Imagine a perfect, lovely day. The house is a cornucopia of sensory delights. In the air linger the sounds and smells of tradition. The kitchen is alive with culinary ritual inviting each member of the family to share in the preparations; turkey, sweet potatoes, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, rolls, pies and so on…The dulcet tones of the Macy’s Parade accompany the dance of the giddy children as they skate from room to room giggling and looking for adventure. It is a rare day when a truce is called among the native children and the inter-sibling terrorism threat levels are at an all time low. Later in the day the tones change from dulcet to super charged as a football game is turned on somewhere in the house. Still, the sounds are happy. Someone lights a fire and the scent of burning pine drifts through every room triggering feelings of winter nostalgia. Someone else starts a pot of hot apple cider with cinnamon and nutmeg and it beckons passersby to bathe in it’s soul warming aroma.
A bright, festive cloth is spread on the table and adorned with the tell tale trinkets of an impending feast. The excitement grows as one by one side dishes are unveiled and arranged in a stunning and tempting display. And, suddenly a beam of light, as though cast by God himself, presents itself from above and the crowned jewel of Thanksgiving Day, in all her majesty, makes her final descent to the center of our magnificent spread.
It is time!
A word of prayer. A frantic shuffle. A volley of requests and orders.
The moving of chairs. The clinking of silverware.
Silence.
Contentment.
No, contentment does not describe this sensation. Rather- Bliss.
Complete and nonpareil comfort.
Not a sound or a gesture save smiles and sighs of relief are shared across the table, even amongst the children. On a normal night there are complaints and declarations of refusal. On a normal night we can count on baby Georgia to snub even the most tempting of offerings. But, on this night we are all of like mind and it is this oneness which defines the very existence of Thanksgiving.
Each plate is gradually whittled down to it’s original state of emptiness. The hunger has begun to fade and we are all sinking further and further into our chairs as the welcome effect of tryptophan begins to tighten it’s grip on our brains. We have never felt so safe, so warm and truly grateful for the freedoms and comfort we all…
…um…why is Georgia crying?..
…why is she squirming around like that and trying to climb over the table?…
…why is she turning pale and making that strange wretching…….
“BLECK! GRACK! HOOWUHHH!”
Panic ensues! Wide eyes and gasps of horror! Everyone scrambles for safety as I tear frantically at her soiled clothes while hurtling chairs and people and Boompa…
“BLECK! GRACK! HOOOOOOWUUUUUUUHHH!”
This episode was bigger and louder and considerably more projectile than before and my last hurtle was not successful thereby placing Boompa in the line of fire of this inconceivable Thanksgiving horror! Not only was he riddled with shrapnel of vomit but he is famous for being a slow eater and what remained of his dinner was victimized as well. Poor, poor Boompa! But, no time to stop for the wounded, I must clear the war zone in case the weapon is still active!
The entire scene is still a little fuzzy to me. But, I know at some point I made it into the bathroom where I peeled off the mucky layers, fighting off the urge to vomit myself. I was trapped in that place between maniacal laughter and sobbing. Shrieks of laughter emanated from the dining area. I heard Rex bellow “That was like a rainbow! How did she manage such long range fire?!” Followed by Buddy laughing himself to tears (apparently he has never seen throwup before.) Then, a clearly traumatized Boompa declaring “I think I’ll pass on pie for now.”
Eventually the laughter died down and the washing machine started whirring. The baby floated in her warm bath as I banged my head against the wall wishing for a redo and dreading the inevitable events that would follow, including more soiled clothes and sleepless nights. Ugh! Why me? Why now?
Once the baby was washed and dressed I cautiously approached the battle ground only to find that it had been completely deserted. The table was cleared, the chairs were neatly put away and the leftovers stowed. Nothing remained of the carnage which had taken place here only moments before.
So, I will say this for our major Thanksgiving catastrophe:
At least I got out of clearing the table!
So, um…what say we just pretend this never happened?
On a side note: I did just take her to the doctor today and she was diagnosed with Croup. So her transgressions are pardoned and now we nurse her back to health. After all, SOME things are more important than turkey.
And, furthermore, she just woke up from her croup induced coma
with this hair:
