Thanksgiving came and went, again. We eat Thanksgiving dinner at dinnertime so we didn't have anywhere to be until 4 pm. I woke up around 7:30 that morning to make a big breakfast. I scrambled eggs, made sausage, toast and a fruit salad. I laid everything out buffet-style. No one was awake. Unlike my children, I'm not an asshole and just wake others up whenever I feel like it. I let them sleep and I made myself a plate. I ate alone.
The one time I want all the people to get up early and bother me, they don't. I wanted to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The problem was that is that we don't have cable. I checked which sites were streaming the parade and I saw that Youtube was doing a live stream. I clicked on it and watched the elaborate floats, balloons and marching bands go by as I sat under a comforter and sipped a cup of coffee.
Around 9:45 the rest of my family decided to join me. I instructed them to heat up the breakfast I cooked 2 hours ago and come watch the parade with me. They were talking crap about the parade that I didn't appreciate. "Who would stand out in the cold to watch this? This is boring!" "Look at those balloons -they don't even do anything!" What do you want them to do? They are balloons. "Stop raining on my parade, " I told them - pun intended.
After 2 hours the stream ended and the screen flashed, "THANK YOU FOR WATCHING THE 2015 MACYS THANKSGIVING DAY PARADE." That's right - I watched last year's parade for 2 hours. I was a little disappointed. My husband shrugged, "Well, you wanted to watch a parade and you did, so...."
We decided that we were going to take the kids to the movies. We went to go see Arrival, which was really good but heartbreaking. I walked out of the theater feeling broken inside. "Did you like the movie?" my daughter asked. I nodded, "Yes, but I feel like my soul is fractured." Go see it at your own risk. Geez.
Soon it was time to go. We picked up my brother and headed to my mom's house for dinner. It was so good. There was a cheese and cracker spread, my world famous deviled eggs, turkey, cranberry, stuffing, green bean casserole, 8 pies. We stuffed ourselves silly.
Then we went around and told everyone what we are thankful for. I have SO much to be thankful for - my husband, my children, my health, my LIFE.
After dinner, we sat in the living room and played games. We talked about our various Thanksgiving memories. We can't do that without re-telling the diarrhea-from-hell story. My youngest sister told me to tell the story to her boyfriend that had never heard it. I indulged them all.
"It was the day after Thanksgiving when I was 16. The entire family- 30 of us- went to lunch at my grandmother's sister's house. It was a small row home in Philly. I was not feeling well, my stomach was churning and I was sure someone-something- was stabbing me in the abdomen.
Suddenly, it hit me. I made it to the bathroom just in time. Her house had ONE bathroom and the door didn't lock. The toilet had a blue, cushioned seat with a crack on the side. It was like an eruption equivalent to Mount Vesuvius. I was up there for a while as Satan ran through me. It was horrible. So, I'm sitting there on the toilet, pants at my ankles, shaking in a cold sweat and my aunt swings open the door. She walks in, and starts having a conversation with me.
"Are you okay, honey? Do you need me to get a glass of water?" I was mortified. She was looking me in the eyes and trying to have a conversation with me while this vile spew exploded out of me. I wanted to jump out of the window and kill myself. I was so embarrassed. Then she PATTED me on the knee and left. I shuddered. I could never face her ever again. I knew she was going to go downstairs and tell the entire family about what she had just witnessed. That experience changed who I am as a person, it killed my soul."
"After, I laid down on the couch. My stomach churned. I wanted to go to the hospital. My mother came in and demanded that I go outside so they could take a family picture. I refused. If I stood up, I was sure I would poop myself. She yelled at me."
It was horrible. I was traumatized. I still shudder at the thought of that horrible experience. People enjoy the story though, it's funny -so when asked, I tell it. Who am I? I have no shame. I don't care.
That night while we laid in bed, my husband turned to me. "How many times in my life do I need to hear that diarrhea story?"
"What do you mean?"
"I've heard it like, a million times. Get a new story."
"I was ASKED to tell it. I didn't volunteer."
"It's gross."
"You're gross. I'm going to bed now. I need to get up early tomorrow because of the elf."
And that was Thanksgiving.
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