When I was young, Thanksgiving was always one of my favorite holidays. I can still imagine that plump, golden turkey, lathered in juice, bathing in the roaster all day. There's the crunchy-smooth, green bean casserole and rich pumpkin pie happily taking turns sunning themselves in the oven. Who can forget the yams bobbing with marshmallows and dizzy potatos, spinning and mashing in the mixer? The stuffing is bravely ready to take its place and the mouth watering cranberries decorate various concoctions of wiggly jell-o's and pink fluff salads. Soft, steamy dinner rolls with melty butter remind me of my Grandma's homemade rolls. They don't taste anything like hers, but it makes me think of a time long ago when young cousins would gather together to tirelessly play. I can still hear the clacking of dishes being washed, and the shuffle of cards being dealt for yet another game, all amid the background din of college football. My little brother and I would bandy about the backseat of a little car for hours while Dad drove; sometimes during dangerous snowstorms, just to partake in the festivities at the farm tucked away in the hills.
My, how things have changed. Fast forwarding many years brings us to Thanksgiving at our house, which is probably the envy of no one. My husband and I own a donut shop. Like all retailers, the hopeful thought of Black Friday being black enough to cover all the red is very enticing. Since my husband works all Thanksgiving Night, he's naturally had to sleep all Thanksgiving Day. So for us, this holiday is just another typical day, Daddy resting for the next night's work with myself taking on our kids, Ashli-Meghan and Izaiah. In fact, last year, we didn't even take a Thanksgiving Holiday break from school. We're homeschoolers, so we can do that.
Even though it's just the three of us, I guess I could make a Thanksgiving meal, but this is comical for me to think about. Ashli-Meghan is autistic and will not eat anything unless it is a nugget, a nut, or a rasin. While she has recently added Smarties and Candy Corn to her diet, turning these items into a holiday feast would still be a stretch for me. I'll have to check with Martha and Betty, but seriously, I think I'm stumped.
Thanks to Gerber, baby Izaiah can savor a liquid, yet succulent, turkey meal from a jar and a fabulous pumpkin dessert, which I have personally tested and approved. If I throw in some sweet potato puffs, a football game and a parade, we may be on to something!
No doubt, the way we celebrate Thanksgiving has drastically changed into something most would scoff at unless you're a turkey, but one thing that hasn't changed is this: we are thankful. While we do miss out on this one holiday as a family, we do purposely sit down together for lunch and dinner the other 364 days of the year. One of my favorite blessings is a praying husband who will say, "Thank you God for our many troubles. And thank you for another day to conquer them."