Thanksgiving with an Ass

[Written yesterday] Well here I am, reheating a plate of my fourth Thanksgiving meal in the last 48 hours.  I now blame my exhaustion on the copious amounts of tryptophan running through my veins.  I’m not sure if that’s really what it does, but I like the way it sounds. But seriously, I love food- especially Thanksgiving food.  What other day do you get to load up a plate complete with every type of comfort food known to man? And free of judgment.  Besides the grub though, I love spending time with family over the holidays. There’s just something about it. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Well here, I’ll just tell you how my Thanksgiving played out. Grab some popcorn and enjoy…if you’re still reading.

“The cars running.”

“Did you get the stuff for my [pinterest] drinks?”

“Yep, got it all. The sprite, ginger ale, cider-”

“What about the cranberry juice?”

“Nope.”

Shuffle, shuffle. Stomp, stomp, stomp. Whoosh. Slam. Kerplunk (car seat).  And we were off.

“Husband, drive faster. It’s 1:03. We’re on time!”

“No, we’re already late.”

“If we get there in two minutes, we’ll basically be on time!”

We scurried into the in-laws warm cozy house as the smells of Turkey, sweet potatoes, and cranberry filled the air. I hurried to the kitchen to mix up my [pinterest] drinks. Goop, goop, goop. The ginger ale flowed freely into the large drink dispenser and right out the spout onto the kitchen floor like a giant sticky waterfall.  As someone shouted at me, I finally realized what was happening. Apparently those few blonde highlights left in my hair still permeate through to my brain. I cupped the dispenser as tightly as I could, the ginger ale seeping out between my fingers. Out came the Windex and the papers towels. (And I thought that was just my husband’s cleaner of choice.) But the good news is the drinks were amazing. Thank you, Pinterest. You make me feel fancier than I actually am once again.

The meal was enjoyed by all, besides my daughter, who thinks throwing food on the floor is more fun that putting it in her mouth these days. She’s wrong. {And that’s a whole other topic.} The clock struck 3:30, and it was time to pack up for our next adventure (my parent’s house).  People slowly started to wobble out of the house, carrying leftovers, looking as if they were entering the first stages of the food coma.  When all of the sudden, we heard a screech. Not a good screech. More like an oh-no-I-just-dropped-leftovers-on-the-carpet-screech.  We looked down. There it was. If there was a side dish that looked like it had been rejected by someone’s body once it hit the floor, this would be it: Grandma’s finely chopped vegetables in vinegar. It didn’t take long for the strong smell of vinegar to waft through the entry way as the shampooer was brought out. As with my [pinterest] drink mishap, people could have panicked, gotten upset, cried over spilled vinegar. But no, this incident only resulted in my overly-admired, spoiled, and loved daughter getting a ride on the large cleaning machine.

Believe it or not, we did eventually end up at my parent’s house. There we had mom, step-dad, step-sister, step-brother with fiancé, and little (big huge) step-brother along with three other Boise State Football beasts- I mean, players.  I have never seen four humans devour so much food in one sitting. I mean, they were on seconds when I was still on firsts.  Yes, I ate two of my four Thanksgiving meals within 3 hours of each other. Don’t worry, I wore leggings. Then after dinner, my horse-loving mother stood by the window with Leighton (my daughter) and practiced saying the word “hooohssse” as they gazed down at the barn full of horses.  Just like each visit to my parents, we had to go pet said horses.  This time though, as we entered the arena, Hope, the donkey, was being a quite a crazy little ass. What started as small twitches and nervous hops turned into legitimate donkey kicks as she circled the arena. My mom attributed this to my brother’s bow shooting that was now taking place on the hill across from us.  Either way, my slight fear of horses came flooding back as I recalled the time I once got bucked from…well ok, our pony. And I wasn’t really bucked; I think she just hopped, but I definitely could have fallen off.

By now, the hubs had grabbed L from my mom. And just the three of us remained- me, my mom, and the crazy ass. I was laughing but actually a little afraid at the same time. After all, donkeys do have hooves, and I’d never fully understood the term “donkey kick” until then.  Hope galloped by, flaring up those legs. What an ass. I lurched onto the fence post like a clown at the rodeo yelling “Mom, get me out of here!”  My mom could hardly contain her laughter as she came to my rescue, “Hop on my back!”  So there we were, Hope still running around us, making quick unpredictable movements like a real live firecracker.  Considering I’m taller than my mom, our attempt at piggy-backing made us both laugh so hard we confessed we were going to pee our pants. Let’s just say the drink dispenser wasn’t the only thing I had to cup that day. Once again, the good news…we did not pee our pants or re-enact the scene from Dumb and Dumber when Harry and Lloyd get off the tiny motor bike.  We returned to the toasty living room for a game of charades, but I do not have the time or energy to tell about that.

Eventually, my sweet little family made it home. My husband fell asleep twenty minutes into our Redbox, and our daughter fell asleep in our bed for the first time.  As I cuddled up next my two favorite people, I thanked God for how truly blessed I am.  And then I snapped and instagram-filtered a picture of them, and my heart nearly exploded into a million trillion little pieces.  I reminisced on how different and crazy and unpredictable family get-togethers are. I wouldn’t have it any other way…

Disclaimer: My mom’s crazy little ass (OK I'll stop with the "ass" jokes) is not actually crazy.  The exaggeration was simply to embellish my story. The creature described happens to be a miniature donkey that is comparable in size to our Labrador. My mom uses it, along with her miniature horses, to spread joy to those facing mental, physical, and emotional obstacles. (See mom, no worries.)