This time tomorrow, I’ll be elbow deep in a Turkey’s butt. Or maybe his neck. I’m not really sure which way that goes.
As you can see, I’m clearly under-qualified to take over Thanksgiving dinner preparation…which is exactly what is happening. Don’t worry, my mother is still alive and well (baring no medical issues this year) but as the years go on she needs more and more help in the kitchen. The problem with that is, I’m the next in line and we don’t do well in small spaces together. And by small spaces I mean in the same city for extended periods of time.
This year, it was ever-so-delicately-suggested to my mother that perhaps it might be a good idea for me to take command of Thanksgiving dinner. Although she’s an incredible cook, it’s getting harder every year for her to cook such a large meal in a timely manner. Now, I’m not sure if my mom didn’t understand what me taking command meant or if she figured she’d have the last laugh in the end but for whatever reason she agreed. Fortunately, she’ll still be there to tell me which end of the turkey is up.
The sad reality of it is, she won’t always be around to do that.
So this year, I’m not going to snap at her when she says something mildly insulting or asks me the same question 295 times. I’m not going to drop f-bombs when she frustrates me and I’m not going to throw my hands in the air and leave the kitchen midway through mashing potatoes.
I’m going to learn how to make Thanksgiving dinner and be thankful that my mom is here to teach me.