Welcome to Plague House
For the last three years, I've made Thanksgiving dinner at our house. In years prior, we packed everyone up and traveled to points north: Pennsylvania, New York. It's so much nicer to stay put, even though the food and house prep gets frenetic. And since I'm not the best housekeeper (heh), this involves a lot of last minute Swiffing and stashing stuff in bins.
Who's on the guest list? My husband's ex and her dad are standard. Weird, huh? But she doesn't cook, and I want to avoid the issue of splitting up the family so the boys can spend a holiday with her. So I suck it up, and they come here. This year her new boyfriend came, too. Years past included friends and neighbors, and some of my family. This year, just the eight of us.
And since I spent all freakin' day Wednesday writing a research paper (ugh), late-night Wednesday and Thursday morning were crucial. Of course, Sean gets sick Wednesday night. Massively sick. As in up-all-night-alternately-hugging-and-sitting-upon-toilet sick. Which means I got very little sleep, as I was treated to mad dashes and symphonic bowl sounds all night.
I peeled myself from the plague bed at 7:30 a.m. and came downstairs. I made two pumpkin pies, cranberry sauce and stuffing before the rest of the brood made their eye-rubbing appearances. At which point I realized how overwhelmed I was, and I cried. Nothing like an all-out bawl as a motivator. Kevin was shocked into cleaning the bathroom. Jonah picked up the living room. Zoe gave me a hug.
And it all went fine. Sean recovered enough by 4:00 to eat a micro-portion of dinner. He even had a sliver of pie. Luckily, it's a 24-hour thing.
Fast-forward to Friday night. Sean, Z and I are holiday shopping at Target. Kevin calls my cell. "I threw up."
Fast-forward to this afternoon. Family is at movies while I cook baked shells, beef stew and beef barley soup for the week. I am also working on lesson plans since my week of intensive teaching starts tomorrow. Sean calls. "Jonah threw up."
Yee-haw. And Tuesday is my birthday. And I'm being observed Tuesday by my advisor. Please, God, let the women of the house be spared.
Who's on the guest list? My husband's ex and her dad are standard. Weird, huh? But she doesn't cook, and I want to avoid the issue of splitting up the family so the boys can spend a holiday with her. So I suck it up, and they come here. This year her new boyfriend came, too. Years past included friends and neighbors, and some of my family. This year, just the eight of us.
And since I spent all freakin' day Wednesday writing a research paper (ugh), late-night Wednesday and Thursday morning were crucial. Of course, Sean gets sick Wednesday night. Massively sick. As in up-all-night-alternately-hugging-and-sitting-upon-toilet sick. Which means I got very little sleep, as I was treated to mad dashes and symphonic bowl sounds all night.
I peeled myself from the plague bed at 7:30 a.m. and came downstairs. I made two pumpkin pies, cranberry sauce and stuffing before the rest of the brood made their eye-rubbing appearances. At which point I realized how overwhelmed I was, and I cried. Nothing like an all-out bawl as a motivator. Kevin was shocked into cleaning the bathroom. Jonah picked up the living room. Zoe gave me a hug.
And it all went fine. Sean recovered enough by 4:00 to eat a micro-portion of dinner. He even had a sliver of pie. Luckily, it's a 24-hour thing.
Fast-forward to Friday night. Sean, Z and I are holiday shopping at Target. Kevin calls my cell. "I threw up."
Fast-forward to this afternoon. Family is at movies while I cook baked shells, beef stew and beef barley soup for the week. I am also working on lesson plans since my week of intensive teaching starts tomorrow. Sean calls. "Jonah threw up."
Yee-haw. And Tuesday is my birthday. And I'm being observed Tuesday by my advisor. Please, God, let the women of the house be spared.