Thanksgiving at my house is, well, painful. As in most families, Thanksgiving is very chaoitic. I can remember many fun filled years of Thanksgiving fun with my family. Since I'm a pretty lucky lady, my birthday always falls right around thanksgiving. When I was a kid that seemed like the best thing ever, because the most people always came to my birthday party (because we always celebrate on thanksgiving) and therefore, I got the most presents. My dad always invited some random person who had no where else to go to celebrate, and my family came in from New York and everything.
Wierdly enough, I remember that I was always sick on birthday as a kid. I always came down with some terrible cold, or the flu, and one time, the chicken pocks. I know realize, that even as I was sick again this year, I think it's my body's natural reaction to impending doom. Thanksgiving was never really fun for me, because it's just not a family holiday until someone gets drunk, makes someone else cry, a physical battle almost breaks out, people storm out, and everyone is left unhappy.
Since my family is plagued with alcoholism, we generally try to avoid having drinks available at these events, especially since the year my aunt go really drunk, and started a fight with her brother and sister, and then tried to walk home.
Or the time we all had to go to New York for Thanksgiving, against my will, to eat at my uncle's house, where all the food sucked, and I started crying because I was sick, and my mom finally couldn't handle it and took us home.
Then there was the time, my two cousins got so drunk, they ended up fighting, and then everyone was crying, and everyone was sent home.
Nothing like the fun that comes from family dinners together.
This year was no real exeption. The drinking has come to an abrupt stop, thankfully. Most disfunctional family members are no longer invited to dinner, which rules out an uncle, several cousins, and those who are married/related to them. This year, the fighting was left down to petty fuids between a few people.
I started my day by waking up at my boyfriend's house at about 2.30pm. We decided that since the food at my house is terrible, to go and find some where that would be open, and get some cheesesteaks. We run out, find a 24hr diner, grab our food, and head back to the apartment. No sooner had we finished eating, did I get a phone call from my mom, freaking out that she can't find a knife, and that she could really use my help. I calmly tell her, that I will be there in ten minutes, and not to worry.
I get to my house and see that there are already plenty of people in the kitchen helping her, and that she really doesn't need my help. I make some whip cream, and make the mashed potatoes; which is my favorite food ever, and I can't let my mom ruin it again this year. At this point, my mom can't ask for anything, she demands it in a tone that makes me want to kick puppies. I run around getting my knives and getting stuff for her, and then I do the reasonable thing. Hide.
I enjoy a cigarette on the front porch while the rest of the family arrives and stress ensues in the kitchen. One of the two turkeys we made is raw, while the other is overcooked, as usual. Finally they demand that we come and sit down. Lucky me, the birthday girl, gets stuck sitting at the kiddy table, even though my younger brother gets to sit with the adults.
After getting my boyfriends dinner ready (because he had surgery on his hip and shoulder and needs help doing stuff) I'm told by my sister to sit, I sit, the kids pray, and I get back up to get my food. The turkey is terrible, as expected, so I pretty much just eat stuffing and mashed potatoes. Then when we're done eating, my boyfriend and I get up from the table. Of course at the moment, my sister and her hubby, captain douche-bag, decide to parent us. My sister is not even close to be old enough to be my mother, or anything of the sort. She starts telling us to sit back down because they have a hard time getting the kids to stay at the table. I personally, smile, and retreat to another room. Boyfriend desides to tell my sister, that he's not sitting back down. Captain Douche-bag says that it's not just a "three and half rule" (referring to the age of his kids) and Boyfriend responds, that the three and half years olds didn't have a piece of bone taken out of their hip and their collar bones sawed in half. Then he left the room.
I found the evening overall, tolerable. As soon as cake and everything was over, Bobby and I left. It had it's awkward moments of my Dad bringing his girlfriend, and my aunt's kids being there.
Overall, interesting..
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