The week leading up to Thanksgiving was a complete trainwreck. The stomach bug came knocking, and took each one of us down in turn. Most of us made it to the toilet, and some of us did not. I had three full sleepless nights, tending to each kid as they suffered through the night. I was sick too for eight days total but couldn't really take care of myself while spraying bleach around in a sleepless daze.
One of the benefits is that I didn't really have a lot of time to stress about hosting Thanksgiving. It was just something at the end of the week that I knew was coming. I didn't take up all my china and set the table days prior like I used to. I didn't stress that the grout wasn't clean enough in the bathroom. I didn't obsess over the menu. I honestly just didn't have time.
Now let me preface this little tale by saying that John was going to be away for Thanksgiving. He left Wednesday and wasn't coming home until late Thursday night. I wanted to host Thanksgiving anyway---since I was away in the hospital for Christmas last year, it was important to me that we be home for Thanksgiving even with John's absence. So I asked for help. My family is amazing and offered to pick up so much of the Thanksgiving slack so I could make the magic happen at my place----like bringing ALL the pies and the stuffing and the squash and carrots and I could go on and on. So the load was light, which was a blessing.
Wednesday brought with it an snow storm, with really heavy snows that brought a tree down perilously close to our house. It also caused the power to go out overnight. I woke in the morning to a phone that had about three seconds of power left in it, and a handful of messages from neighbors offering help with the generator. I said yes. I needed help. I put aside my feelings of guilt for taking away neighbors from their own families and I asked for help. My gratitude was overflowing out of my eyeballs...I don't remember ever crying so much.
Now don't get me wrong---I had quite the pity party Thursday morning. No power, a big ass turkey, and no way to get the thing in the oven at 6am as planned (our generator doesn't run our oven). A big huge mound of frozen wet snow at the end of my driveway that I was too weak to shovel (I tried...and cried). No way for the kids to eat their Thanksgiving morning cinnamon buns or watch the parade. My pity party was quite a sight, and in retrospect, really unnecessary. We were still together (sort of). We were healthy (well, sort of). There were people crawling out of the woodwork to help us have a successful day. While one neighbor fired up the generator (not an easy task), another plowed my driveway, and another took my kids to their house to watch the parade. I cried in the shower, and pulled myself together. And right as I was packing up the car with my turkey and all the fixings to move the party to another location...
the power came back on.
And we had the most perfectly imperfect day I could have ever dreamed of. My gratitude was amplified and everything seemed a bit more rosy as usual. My family rallied around me (I think I scared them all with my hysterical crying in the morning---they aren't used to seeing that side of me). The tumultuous week ended in the most perfect of Thanksgivings, and for that I am eternally grateful.
*my apologies for passing on the stomach flu to a couple of beloveds!*
