Diary of a Mad Housewife
Okay, I’m not really a housewife. I do cook dinner five nights a week and I’m married, but I also have a full-time job with a fair amount of responsibility. Also, I do not clean – at least not up to any decent standards. So not technically a “housewife.”
Faithful readers of this blog and close friends all know the stories about my mom and Thanksgiving. For years and years, my brother and I mocked her when she inherited hosting duties during our early 20s. “She’s crazy.” “Everyone stay away from the kitchen. She might implode!” “It can’t be that hard.” These are clearly the words of two brats who never had the responsibility of cooking the most important meal of the year.
Paybacks are a bitch, and after hosting my first Thanksgiving, I called my mom immediately to apologize for this behavior. Luckily, she is very forgiving.
This brings us to 2013…
August: Pittsburgh – Visiting My In-Laws
Husband: “Cheri and I would like to host Thanksgiving this year.”
Me: (possibly out loud) “We would?”
Husband: “Yes, we talked about this last Christmas.”
Me: “Hmmm, can’t recall. Maybe we did? and maybe we could have discussed it in the past eight months since – you know, before you blurted this out to your whole family.”
Side note: My in-laws are great. They offer to help, they bring a ton of food, they are very laid back, and frankly, they wouldn’t care if I served frozen turkey. They are good like that. It’s just that I’m a planner. I like to discuss and plan and then plan and discuss. My husband doesn’t love this about me…
October: Our House
Husband: “I wouldn’t have agreed to move to the suburbs if I didn’t think we would host events like this.”
Me: “Of course. It’s just that I’m still a bit shell shocked from 2011 when our only toilet exploded at 11 p.m. the night before Thanksgiving and we had eight houseguest for four days. Then I yelled at you in front of your family, stormed outside, and, oh, cooked the damn turkey upside down.”
Husband: “Why do you always have to be so negative? Other wives aren’t like this…”
Side note: He didn’t actually say that last part, but I know he was thinking it.
November: Our House – Two Weeks Before Thanksgiving
Husband: “I wish you were a little more enthusiastic about Thanksgiving.”
Me: (silently screaming into my pillow)
November: Bryn Mawr Farmers Market – Five Days Before Thanksgiving
Me: “I have to figure out what size turkey to get and determine how long it will take to defrost. We need to make sure we have enough for leftovers and Friday dinner too…”
Husband: “Fine, I will make the turkey and the entire meal.”
Me: “Huh? I’m just working through the logistics (i.e. “planning”). Why can’t we agree that Thanksgiving is a lot of responsibility and that every woman in America (not just your awful wife) has angst about this meal. I’m perfectly normal.”
P.S. – You don’t know how to cook @&^%!
P.S.S. – I’m far from normal and of course we both know this.
Side note: If you search “Stress” and “Thanksgiving”, you get 91,000,000 results on Google.
So what’s a girl to do?
- Buy this: Two bottles of Rebel Red (hide them from guests)
- Read this: “10 Things to Do Before Thanksgiving Day“
- Do this (after everyone leaves): Get a Massage. Charge to your husband’s credit card if at all possible.