Oh Dear. I’m in Charge?! Who put me in charge!? I didn’t ask for this but sure as I’m sitting here, I’m in charge. Crap!
It’s only been a month or so since MIL’s passing, but it’s pretty obvious who is going to be taking over the family tradition of Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve dinners. Yes, that’d be me. (See me smiling and waving!) Crap!
I don’t want to be in charge. I don’t want to cook Thanksgiving Dinner. MIL never let me help with anything so I have no first hand experience with cooking Thanksgiving dinner for 10 people. I can barely get the timing down right to cook dinner for me and Hubby. I have to plan dinner for 10 people. The first dinner as the new Matriarch of the Family. The one where everyone is going to be saying "it’s not like Mother’s/Grandma’s" . . . Crap!
Hubby and I talked about gathering the kids and grandkids and going out to eat. I’m sure there’s a buffet place that we could go to for a lovely Thanksgiving dinner. But then we wouldn’t have any leftovers. What’s Thanksgiving without a ton of leftovers? And this is Princess’ first Thanksgiving at home in over 15 years. You can’t start a tradition at a buffet place. Crap!
Mom invited Hubby and I and the kids to her house for Thanksgiving Dinner, but they really don’t have the room for 27 people in their little house.
Just when I was starting to have a major panic attack . . . I read the Kr0g3r ad. They have pre-cooked Thanksgiving dinners with all the trimmings all ready. You just order the dinner and they do the rest. Sooooo, I’m cheating. I ordered a pre-cooked Thanksgiving dinner. Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, rolls, pies. All I have to do is the side dishes – easy enough.
Since I know that my cooking will never live up to MIL’s – or to everyone’s memory of MIL’s cooking – it won’t sting so much when they say "It’s not like Mother’s/Grandma’s" I know that no matter how hard we try, things are going to be different. Not bad. Just different. We have to adjust. Just when you think you’re adapting well to the adjustments, you get smacked between the eyes with something new.
So, how many years will it be before I stop dreading holidays?