The Terror of Thanksgiving

I wrote a sweetly sentimental piece about being thankful but I’m not posting it. I shouldn’t have to tell anyone that every day has something in it that we should be thankful for. Also, I don’t like sappy. I like sarcastic. Tastefully sarcastic. Because I’m always socially and ethically conscious.
Before we get to the festivities, I’m proposing a drinking game. One shot for every time my mother talks about her online dating, herself or anything relating to her proclivities as of late. My husband is going to need a lot of alcohol but sadly for him, we live 2 1/2 hours away and I need a designated driver.
Mom is always late. Today, she will be even later because she has wasted the morning on the phone with her latest interest. I know because I called her three times to ask if she had sage. Three times. She ignored me, pretended that call waiting was not happening and she never knew she had a daughter who needed her. Right now.
It’s like I don’t exist Except for subjects relating to her looks, her life and that kind of thing, mom is a vacant space.
This is my latest favorite text from her. I thought my answer was spot on. I mean, when you wait until the 11th hour …. what can you expect?
Good advice, isn’t it? I think so. So over the river and through the woods, to my brother and his family’s house we went. I spent several hours trapped on a trampoline with my tyrannical twin nephews, aged 6. After the discovery that Aunt Amy could jump was made, the party was on. I had forgotten how weird boys were. Somehow, I felt right at home. We even formed our own club called the “Weird, Annoying and Dangerous Dummies Club .” To join our club, you had to do something that was fittingly dangerous. I don’t know what I did but I guess being barefoot in skinny jeans and a cold shoulder shirt (that my nephews put hot wheels down the sleeves of) was enough to guarantee my acceptance. I felt guilty by hanging with the kids and avoiding the adult conversation but…
Fast forward to the early afternoon. Mom is late. No one is surprised but low blood sugar has caused temporary insanity and a bit of unhappiness so I immediately go back to my happy place – the trampoline.
Everything I missed about childhood and holidays I rediscovered between fart jokes, googling monkey butts and chalk drawings on the driveway ( no one was fooled by our faked crime scene). My nephews are really smart and better company than most adults. They didn’t care how I looked, were never critical except to tell me I was a bad artist, and very informative. I never considered that some Pilgrims might have eaten fish ( if they lived by the ocean and didn’t like turkey ).
And just like that, this became a “Why I am thankful ” post. Because, after all, Thanksgiving – duh.