Bet that you thought that I was dead. But no, I am actually being held hostage here in Beavertuckey with my very strange, very loud in-laws... who do not understand sarcasm, at all. It has been a long week. I am currently running on a battery that is losing power quicker than a South American banana republic, and it is so damn cold here, I have been forced to sit on a floor vent in my underwear wrapped in a flannel blanket... I shit you not. 12 fucking degrees... what the hell is that?
The dinners have been interesting, as always, filled with prayer and off-color, clearly un-P.C. comments and jokes. Yes, this family is a study in contrasts. My son is sleeping in a closet and my FIL has a habit of puttering around the house and walking into rooms currently occupied by others without knocking. Bless his heart... I think that he is still a little embarrassed.
Thanksgiving eve, I had the distinct pleasure of consuming meatloaf (could you give a food dish a more unappetizing name... meat in a loaf form... UGH) baked in a festive pumpkin shell. Go ahead and read that last bit again, but I assure you that you read it correctly the first time... meatloaf baked in a festive pumpkin shell. And yes, it tasted about as bad as you are imagining. But, it was festive.
So far, we have had three meals that have involved thanksgiving food stuff, not including the actual thanksgiving dinner. For those of you paying attention, yes, that means that one of those meals was a BREAKFAST.
My MIL has only made 15 parenting suggestions, which I am told (by my SIL) is actually a family record... on the low side. Go me!
To top it all off, Bean has his first cold AND ear infection.
So, I spent most of my afternoon today in a Children's Urgent Care Clinic holding onto a very pissed off Bean, trying to prevent him from touching anything or anyone that might make him sicker than he already is. And BTW, were it not for the highly contagious nature of baby sick snot... it would make a fantastic adhesive. It sticks to human flesh (and cashmere sweaters) like nothing I have ever seen. Really, transplant surgeons ought to investigate its benefit with respect to re-attaching limbs and digits and such.
So, I guess that most of all, I am thankful that Thanksgiving only comes once a year.
(In fairness to N., I ought to say that I am incredibly thankful that I have a husband who has such an incredible sense of humor about his family that he is not at all offended by my observations and good-natured complaining. I also have a fabulous son, who despite the super-glue snot, is really pretty keen. So, I guess there might be a few other things to be thankful for... but that is not quite as funny.)
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