Thanksgiving was great. We went to my brother’s house for lunch and all I was in charge of was the ham. I don’t think I’ve shared how much, how deeply, how intwined my identity is with ham, but oh, it’s a big deal to me. My radio station would play all ham, all the time, but then I’m sure the complications from diabetes and morbid obesity that comes with an all-ham, no exercise lifestyle would get in the way of enjoying ham. Still, I would much rather eat ham over turkey, any day.
My brother asked me if I wanted a drink and I said yes and pointed to his liquor cabinet’s top shelf, where there is a $200 bottle of whiskey that is still packaged. So in case he reads this and is thinking what kind of gift to get his little sister, that would be the one. He said no and gave me a vodka and sprite instead. We ate, watched football, broke up kid fights and the illegal casino they had built in the garage while we were busy eating ham and drinking.
We took some food home and when I had to finally toss out the remaining final bits of this ham gem (ham gems! coming soon to my imaginary etsy shop!), TJ cried. Cried! Over ham! He curled up on the floor, like I had set fire to the Velveteen Rabbit and it took him a very long time to calm down. I was very proud that he inherited this from me. I consider it a milestone: crawling, walking, ham tears.
TJ threw up Sunday night and Monday morning and there isn’t anything that makes me question, “Where did I go wrong in life?” then having to clean up kid gunk and then spending another hour disinfecting all the things this germ boy touched (answer: EVERYTHING). We spent the day together, which left me little time to do anything other than feeding him, changing him, and wearing a blanket over my head and chasing him like I was a ghost.
Before the plague fell upon our house, we decorated the tree. Nathan put up all the ornaments and loved it which was great because I just sat on the couch and cheered him on while watching Real Housewives of Atlanta. We have a fake tree and I love it. I don’t have to worry about a toddler playing with the water or kids throwing pine needles at each other. I also don’t have that great Christmas tree aroma, but I also don’t have to strap a tree onto the hood of my car and stick my hand out to hold it while Mike drives.
TJ thought the lights were a toy and he said, “Thank you Mommy! I love the lights! Thank you!” I held onto the memory of that sweet face as only hours later, it returned to me, sickly and full of need.
This is pretty much what I see all the time. One is upset, one is cheesing. One wants to play with the iPad, the other wants to play with the iPad. There is always showdown and I am constantly running into the dusty street of this western town to yell, “You are brothers! Hug each other now!” Then later, when I am exhausted and lying in bed, trying to get a nap in, these two little men find their way to the big bed and nestle themselves on either side of me. Even if I feel I have nothing left to give, I tell them to come on in, there is room next to Mommy.