Turkey day is over, which always comes as a relief. I've had my fair share of crappy holidays, and so I tend to wake up with a lump in my throat on days that are "supposed" to be amazing. I think partially this is because I come from divorced parents and because I'm an only child; it's always seemed that there are too many people's feelings that need tip-toeing around during the holidays. But all went really well this year; no one cried, and I only took one Xanax.
We had my dad over on Wednesday night, and we hung out with my mom on Thursday. My parents have been divorced for almost 25 (!!!) years and neither ever remarried. Though they can hang together for brief periods of time, if necessary, like on Tessa's birthday, it's way more comfortable for everyone if they don't. On the holidays, I'm their air traffic controller--making sure his plane doesn't cross paths with hers and vice versa.
The night before Thanksgiving, my dad brought over a honey baked ham and I threw together some baked beans and cole slaw and (what else, really?!) Sister Schubert's rolls. Tessa totally warmed my dad's heart by eating her entire meal in his lap.
The next morning Nekos and I woke up early and drove to Belle Meade to do the 5-mile Boulevard Bolt. We met my mom there, and all took turns carrying Tessa. We did this last year, too, and had so much fun that we tried to recreate it exactly. A meal always tastes better when you deserve to eat it.
Nekos took a series of pictures of me, my mom and Tessa, with this huge carving knife sticking bolt upright out of the turkey. We didn't realize it until later and got hysterical about it (and the fact that in most of the pictures Tessa is trying to slap me in the face).
After lunch all four of us dropped like flies and took long, languid naps. Then we hauled out all the Christmas decorations, hung our stockings and decorated our tree. I'm actually feeling very merry; it's sort of sickening. We all are, and we all owe it to a little girl named Tessa. Pumpkin pie helps, too.