On Thanksgiving Day my True Love gave to me….
Ten bottles of wine.
Stopped nine times.
Eight pounds of stuffing.
Seven things in the oven.
Six trips to Starbucks….
Fiiivvvveee HOUR DRIVE!
Four in our car.
Three bags for Jen.
Two red-headed kids.
All for Thanksgiving at the Healey’s!!!!
Phew!
I’m exhausted just singing my 10 Days of Thanksgiving Tribute to my boyfriend’s family, can you imagine living it? Ha! What a good time had by all. First, I’d just like to thank them… no names of course. But they know who they are! It was so nice to have a place to spend this Thanksgiving while my guys were up in Detroit. It was the first time meeting Number 13’s family, or spending any length of time with his kiddos. So, this was kinda a big deal. Kinda, sorta..really a big deal. And totally against my RULES. I mean, if you have read, One Happy Divorce, you all know the “kid-meet” thing is not supposed to happen until there’s a ring on the finger. #beyonce
Well, I blew it.
We decided, that it’s been eight months and that is long enough to know. Know what, I’m not really sure. But we know. Fuck it, okay? We know enough to spend a Thanksgiving together! Dammit. I didn’t go “by my book” but I did go to Virginia with my man. And I have to be honest, I went forth with much trepidation. I was a little worried. In fact, a number of times I said,”Baby, I think it’s maybe too much for the kids.” Or,”Honey, don’t you think it’s a lot to ask of them to be “on” the entire time I’m there?” And what that really meant was, “Don’t you think it’s a REALLY long time for ME to be on?” ha. Me. Like the girlfriend who’s going to spend 5 nights in Virginia with the boyfriend, the entire family (amazing as they may be) and the kids who don’t even really know me. Me. Thanksgiving is hard enough in my own house, with my own family let alone someone else’s home. Holidays are tough stuff!
Well, I hate to say it.
But here I go. I’m pulling a “Hurvitz” are you ready? I TOLD YOU SO. I told you so, you all. After five days of being FUN JEN I totally lost my fucking shit. I did. And I was sooooo close. So close. I made it all the way til the very last day, at the very last meal…before we got into the car to leave! OMG I’m a fucking LOSER! How the hell did I not make it? Well, when you’re on the rag, exhausted and miss your own kids…it’s pretty easy. I just couldn’t take another second, and I went bat-shitty-cray. Oh, it was over something personal and I’m not sharing. (Yes, I can do that!) But the worst thing? I didn’t realize that during my rant, Number 13’s Dad was standing behind me. Now, why Number 13 didn’t stop me, I’m not really sure. Perhaps he was stunned by my head spinning around and the green-acid shooting from my mouth? I mean, it’s so rare that I actually throw fits such as these! (Stop laughing, Number 13.) Ahhhh yes….that must have been it. But after I finished my baby-meltdown, I turned to go into the house to say my “good-byes” and there was Grandpa.
Well, fuck.
And I’ll say it again…well fuck. And how stupid did I feel? My heart sunk into my stomach, and I’m pretty sure he noticed me praying for something to fall from the sky and kill me. But alas, no such luck. He was gracious as usual, and gave me a farewell hug. Gulp. I wanted to cry. In fact, I did cry. I cried that ugly, gross cry for like fifteen minutes on the way home. But I had to do it silently so the kids didn’t hear me in the backseat. So, just try and imagine what that looked like. Me sucking in my tears with my snot running down the back of my throat, whilst catching my breath internally so I made no noise. Ya, good fucking times.
Well, that’s a happy ending. Not.
And scene.
I swear, I can’t make this shit up. I hate to say I told you so, my friends. I should have listened to my own book. Chapter 4 was it? Jesus. I wrote the damn thing and I can’t even take my own fucking advice? We had the best time, the nicest dinner…the kids were happy. We were happy. Everything was really so great. And I blew it. Figures. And five hours is a really, really long car ride in silence. Good thing Number 13 decided to forgive me like twenty minutes in. Even though we couldn’t talk about what happened in front of the kids, he reached over and grabbed my hand. I looked at him, and mouthed,”I’m so sorry.” And he said,”It’s ok.” Even though it wasn’t really okay, it’s always okay.
We are pretty good at being okay.
He just gets me; and I get him. And he knows that holidays are stressful…and maybe, just maybe…I told him so? But the truth is, I’m really glad he had faith in us. It was good. And fun. I got to meet his amazing family, and learn about him as a kid. See him interact with his boys…have a lovely lunch with his incredible Aunt and kick-ass Sister. I saw Colonial Williamsburg, and rode the ferry. Twice! It was a fabulous week. So what if I fucked it up in the final hour. I do stupid shit like that all the time!! But don’t we all make mistakes?
Now, how do I get his Dad back on Team Jen? Time to do damage control. I’m thinking Cookies by Design? Who doesn’t just love those dang things? 😉
xo j