October 17, 2017
Going Home For The Holidays
Going home for the holidays brings a mixed bag of emotions, usually involving varying degrees of trepidation. That psychological preparation is compounded exponentially when bringing a significant other into the throes of your family’s unique brand of crazy. But, regardless of the embarrassment and inevitable inner eye rolls, there is almost always a healthy serving of laughter and love to go around making the annual gathering an affair well worth the effort.
“Are you nervous about meeting my family?”
“Um, yes. Are you?”
“I always get a little freaked out about going home. I don’t know why.”
“You’re your own worst critic. They’ll be happy just to see you. Plus, you’ll have me there with you and I think you’re the coolest.”
“You’re the best.”
“Yah yah, I know. So what am I getting myself into here?”
“Well, it’s pretty much a variation of the same thing every year. Right now my parents will be running around preparing for the madness.”
The house will be buzzing with manic anticipation as my parents bustle around talking on the phone, unpacking groceries, decorating with all kinds of special touches. The dog will be losing his mind circling their ankles all week wondering what the hell is going on. His tail will nearly fall off from wagging so hard.
We’ll show up fashionably late, of course. All my grandparents, cousins, siblings, aunties and uncles will be there. Some will already be “loosened up” by Mum’s mulled wine. My sister’s kids will be destroying something and hammering on the piano. I’ll introduce you to a bunch of people and my uncle Jo will make some horrible joke and repeat it every hour on the hour. He’s actually pretty funny once you get used to his personal take on humour.
Then we’ll eat. Oh man, my parents can cook. There’ll be all the usual suspects: turkey, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, etc. but we like to mix it up and try something unusual every year — it makes it more exciting. We’ll pass the dishes around like a well-oiled machine of limbs and spend the next hour gorging ourselves. It’s amazing, actually. My dad’s gravy is the best…my mouth just started watering.
Then we’ll retire to the living room and complain about how full we are. Some of my more ambitious family members will go for a walk to “get things moving”. The rest of us will play a game or just sit around talking about how great the pumpkin pie was. My grandad might suck you into perusing old family photos. Then we’ll eat more pie.
It’s actually kind of the best. I get nervous every year, but it’s one of the only times I get to feel like a kid again. We eat whatever we want, laugh at all the bad jokes and are allowed to be the most vulnerable versions of ourselves. And it’s really the only time I get to see my whole family. They’re crazy. But they’re mine. I know they’ll love you.
Anyway, then we’ll leave with five or six Tupperware containers of leftovers so we definitely don’t miss any opportunity to get fat this week. My parents will complain that they never see me and that I have to call more and will probably shake me while they tell me to bring you by again soon. Then they’ll drop something embarrassing about grandkids. And then we’ll go home!
I think I actually just got excited.
Not full yet? More love, leaves, and turkey in this gallery. ❤️ 🍂 🦃