Thanksgiving Prep Countdown

It's the Sunday before Thanksgiving in America. My husband and I will have our family over on Thursday: sons, daughters, daughters-in-law, sons-in-law, grandchildren, nephew, grandniece, and anyone else who cares to join us. 

My husband is in charge of roasting and stuffing the 22 pound turkey (thank God!). I help peel, slice and fry up sweet potatoes and yams that then bathe in an orange juice, brown sugar and butter sauce as the dish bakes just before we eat. Various side dishes and desserts are supplied by the rest of the gang. We've turned Thanksgiving dinner into more of a pot luck than a hosted dinner. Everyone tends to bring whatever their signature dish has become over the years, although people can bring whatever they like. I try to keep track of what people are bringing so we won't end up with all desserts and no side dishes, but it's a pretty loose arrangement.
 
So by now we have the menu figured out and I've grabbed the "company" tablecloths out of storage. The turkey is ordered and will be picked up Wednesday morning. My husband and I also figured out where the furniture should go in the living room to make the most of the space we have and create places for the appetizers to live other than the top of our huge, ridiculously-expensive upholstered ottoman (which was a splurge and by definition, impractical).

On the To Do list:
- Put clean sheets on the twin bed and the trundle since we'll have overnight guests
- Shop for groceries
- Prepare the groceries (Weds. and Thursday morning)
- Make sure the portable tables are clean and ready for prime time
- Clean bathrooms
- Make sure I take time to think about everything I'm thankful for (this exercise tends to get lost in all the busyness at Thanksgiving, but will be easy this year as I have a lot on my list!)

That's for starters.

That Which We Promise: Renewing Wedding Vows in Edinburgh, Scotland

Months ago, my husband and I decided we wanted to renew our wedding vows this year for our fifteenth wedding anniversary. I thought, Sure, why not. (Romantic, aren't I?) Where will we have the ceremony? When? Who will preside? Who will we invite? Will I wear my wedding dress? (It still fit if I didn't move my arms too much.) Will my husband rent a tux? Wear his suit? Photographer? Reception? How far are we going to take this thing?

Overwhelmed by lack of decisiveness, as is our way, we pretty much let the idea go, but every now and then would revisit the topic, only we would ask the questions in a different order just to keep things interesting. But still, only squishy resolution to come to some sort of decision would result.

Time goes by and it's now just a few weeks away from our anniversary. By this time, we had reduced the whole plan to just going out to dinner somewhere in town. We felt like cowards, losers. We had to have some sort of inspiration, didn't we? We weren't that burned out, were we?

Then, on a Friday evening, both of us exhausted from our week, I said something like, You know, we really should go somewhere out of town for our anniversary. Carmel? (We'd spent our honeymoon there.) Washington? (We'd been wanting to make a trip north.) My husband said, Scotland? And I said, why not?

We managed to make arrangements ahead of time for a vow renewal ceremony to take place at St. Giles' Cathedral in Old Town Edinburgh, after Sunday services (which also happened to be my husband's birthday),  with one of the church Ministers presiding. We invited no one (how are you going to bring a crowd all the way to Scotland?), wore "regular" clothes, brought our little point-and-shoot camera and had someone snap a few photos. The reception was high tea with a couple we know that lives in Edinburgh that we hadn't seen since our last trip in 2009.

But the ceremony! The ceremony was 15 minutes of tears and high emotions that we were both unable to contain and, I think, a bit surprised by. Speaking for myself, I hadn't realized how much I needed and wanted to hear my husband recommit himself to me and our marriage. Although we have had a great marriage, I found myself thinking, He really does want to stay with me! It's not just because he feels he has to. (Sorry, Honey....)

We sort of floated out of the cathedral when it was over, feeling lighter somehow. I keep going back to that day in my mind, remembering one of the best days of my life, my new touchstone.

Our 'little' wedding chapel in Edinburgh: St. Giles' Cathedral

Genetically Speaking

My two girls, 28 years apart: my daughter, Emily, on the left, her daughter (my sweet Lily) on the right. Guess things really don't change, do they?

Ah, Amor, Amor! ...sigh...

You know the feeling, or I'm sure you remember it: total infatuation. It's wonderful and wonderfully awful at the same time. You can't stand being apart from The One. You think about them all the time when you're not together. You look at pictures of them and it makes you feel both happy to gaze at their lovely face, and heartsick because they are not with you and all you have is a crummy photo. You wait impatiently for your next meeting. When you're alone, you sigh a lot and gaze off into space.

That describes me to a T ever since my granddaughter was born a little over a year ago. When I see Lily, words like snookums and punkin enter my vocabulary. I call her little one, baby doll, baby girl, sweetheart, snookie-wookums, punkin-roo, cutie pie, Lily Pilly -- they just roll right off my tongue. I'm not an overly demonstrative person and use very few endearments even with my husband who, although I love him dearly, is only once in a while called anything other than his name. In fact I've been accused of never giving anything away, but if Lily is in the room with me my whole world turns into a "precious moment" and the pet names and superlatives begin to fly out of my mouth. What is it about babies anyway that they can get under your skin to the point where you forget yourself and become a love-smitten fool speaking words dripping with honey? Ain't it great?

Lily with Lily's Mom, my daughter, Emily - another person who made my world precious.

We Love Until It Hurts, But...

Today I didn't say the right things
I didn't give enough hugs
I didn't listen to all of their imaginary stories.
Today my prayers were too short and
my lectures too long.
My smiles, I'm sure, didn't hide my fatigue.
Today I didn't heal any wounds;
in fact, I'm sure I caused some.
Their tears fell and I felt too lifeless
to wipe them away.
Today I felt completely defeated and totally inadequate
for this position called "mommy".
But as I kneel in prayer to confess my failures,
I am reminded...
I am not their hope.
I am not their total joy.
I am not their salvation.
He is!
And they are his children even more
than they are mine.
I am reminded...
he always listens,
always guides,
always touches,
and always loves perfectly.
I can rest now, Lord, remembering
that I am not alone.

My daughter was almost grown when I came across this poem (written by Wendy Brewer). How I wish I had had it to read while she was growing up because I so often felt those same feelings of inadequacy and failure described so well in the poem. I worried about the effects my failures would have on my daughter. I knew that some of my shortcomings would leave permanent scars; the question was how deep would they go.

I want to pass this on with the hope that the poem's words of encouragement will help another struggling, tired parent who, each day, tries so hard to be everything to everyone.

And Emily, if you're reading this, remember these words whenever you feel motherhood overwhelming you. And you should know that I have always felt that you are a gift, more than I deserve.