I wish I could tell you that I have some great and wonderful article of wisdom to bestow upon you today, but I got nothing. In fact, I’ve had nothing all day. My kid’s talking to herself on the floor next to me and I can barely think ahead to what I’m making for dinner tonight and if I put the sheets in the dryer, let alone figuring out how to pull off Thanksgiving dinner in a few, very short days. It’ll come together. It always does. I did it puking and pregnant last year. That’s a comforting thought. I get to actually eat Thanksgiving dinner this year and not throw it up.
In fact, it was Thanksgiving last year when we announced to our family that we were having a little girl! Only my Mom was not surprised. She said she knew it was a girl all along. Only your own kind could make you that sick, she said. She was right.
So, maybe that’s what I had to say to you. I’m so glad my kid is OUTSIDE of my body this year for Thanksgiving. That I get to watch her mush mashed potatoes in her mouth, only to spit them out. I’m so thankful I don’t have to back up three feet from the oven so my huge belly doesn’t hit the oven door trying to get the turkey out. I’m so grateful my feet are back to a normal size seven. That I’m wearing my old jeans. That I can have a glass of wine with dinner. That I am not simmering cranberries and chopping onions, only to have to pause to run up the stairs and throw up before finishing the stuffing. I am so, so blessed to have my daughter and so, so grateful not to be pregnant for the holidays.
So, maybe I won’t get around to buying guest candles for the bathroom. Perhaps I won’t have time to make my own pie crust. Who cares? I’m not throwing up this year. Amen. Hallelujah. Happy Thanksgiving to me.