I haven’t written in a bit mostly because my life has become such wonderful insanity that I’ve focused on living it instead of writing about it.  Which is great, but I’ve really missed the therapy of getting my thoughts out on (virtual) paper.  Even though I know not many people read, it’s good for me to say the things I say on here.
 
So I’m sorry, I’d like to update about all the awesome stuff in my life (and I will, soon) but for now I need to write for therapy’s sake.
 
I am so, so not looking forward to Thanksgiving.
 
I love the holidays.  For me, Christmas music is acceptable all year long, bells should jingle at least a full month and a half out of the year, and ohmygoshredandgreen!  I’ve never been too obsessed with Thanksgiving itself because I’ve always just seen it as the introduction to Christmas season.
 
Last year was the first year I hosted Thanksgiving.  My parents drove up from Magnolia to join us.  I made turkey, it turned out amazing.  I had to call my mom because we couldn’t get the giblets out of the turkey.  I called her and told her that I was calling with one of those stupid questions that I’d be harassing her with over the coming years, and said that the boys were telling me there wasn’t anything inside the bird, but surely there was, there’s always that bag of giblets, right? And she laughed and told me to try from the other end, you know, to get the insides out.  It was hysterical and inappropriate and I’m crying and laughing writing this because we laughed so hard when the boys finally found the giblets.  We didn’t eat until late, because we never eat until late when I’m in the kitchen because I’m terrible at timing food.  And my parents were there and we sat around my new home and we enjoyed the dinner.  It was amazing, and I didn’t take pictures of us because who would have thought it would be my last Thanksgiving with them?
 
This year, I have no desire whatsoever to have Thanksgiving dinner.  I work half a shift that day, and I’m working overtime on Friday and Saturday so a friend of mine can be with her family from out of state.  Justin and I both agreed we wouldn’t bother because of the pain and the hassle.
 
But through a crazy series of events (and me being completely unable to force lack-of-thanksgiving-dinner on other people who can’t get back home for the holidays) we’re doing Thanksgiving dinner.  And I thought I was OK with that.  But this morning I was talking it over with Justin in the car and I was telling him about a side dish I wanted but how I usually just called mom the day I was making it to make sure I had all the ingredients right.  And I just started crying.  And to be honest, I haven’t really stopped.  Tears may not be falling, but my heart is still weeping.

I knew it would be difficult but at the rate I’m going I just hope I can get through Thanksgiving dinner in one piece.   All I want to do is make thumbprint cookies with my mom.  I feel completely heartbroken that I will never get to celebrate this time of year with them again.

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