Happy Thanksgiving weekend! On Thursday, I made my husband’s family’s mac’n’cheese recipe and an apple pie. We joined good friends for a sumptuous feast and fun and games and some good old fashioned competition.
This was my first Thanksgiving as a mama. Unless you count last year because I was pregnant. I’m not really sure. Pregnancy is it’s own special time, but the real fun comes when you can hold and kiss and smell and nuzzle and love your very own sweet, sweet baby.
As a mother, I have good days and bad days and inbetween days. Sleepless nights and restful nights and unbelievably sleepless nights. Some days, I am motivated, and some days I am lethargic. Some times, I am in awe of my life, where I came from, how I got here. My good fortune. Some times, I am full of doubt and fear and longing.
It takes practice to be happy. For anyone. Mothers and fathers and children and the elderly and teenagers and career women and powerful men and poor men. It’s the same for all of us; life can be a really huge bitch sometimes.
But as a mother, all I have to do is look at this face, really look, and I am joyous.
This was my second Thanksgiving as a wife and stepmother. This dapper man rubs my shoulders and his little man plays with my hair. They both give me plenty of kisses. And I require lots of kisses.
at our wedding, July 2009
They are all that matters. My family. Husband, kids, parents, siblings, friends, cousins.
Not the drama. Not the legal problems. Not the credit scores. Not the car or the house or the bottom line. Not the number of words on the page or subscribers to this blog.
The food was delicious around the table. The wine flowed freely and the desserts were rich. But the real feast was the one that involved little toes and chubby cheeks and laughter and hugs.
What did you do and what did you eat on Thanksgiving? For what are you thankful?