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Why I stopped boycotting Mother’s Day

It’s not the obvious reason. The one where I’m actually a mother now. At 36 years old, I’m finally a mom, following many, many years of infertility. That would be a good enough reason to bring back Mother’s Day, I guess. But the real reason is more complicated.

Some people find it difficult to understand why the absence of children causes tangible grief for a woman who wants to be a mom, since there isn’t a physical person to miss. But it is a grief. And it will always be a part of me. Maybe I’ll write more about this some time.

Continue reading “Why I stopped boycotting Mother’s Day”

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My turkey story

Apparently, turkeys are like babies and weddings. Everyone has a traumatic story wisdom from a past experience and is just waiting for an excuse to share it. Once people knew I wanted to roast my own turkey, friends were mostly encouraging at first. I heard a chorus of “You can do it!” and started to believe it myself.

But then, the warnings began:

  • “Make sure you get a fresh turkey.” Oh, wait, I already bought a frozen one. Oops. I thought I was doing good just to think about getting my turkey before the stores ran out of them. (Note: It was actually Harry that remembered.)
  • “Don’t forget to brine it. That’s how they have the best flavor. Brining.” Oh, wait, you can’t brine a turkey that’s been frozen. Continue reading “My turkey story”
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Growing up

I bought a turkey today for the first time. The frozen, Butterball kind that you have to thaw in advance. It’s 14 pounds. I may have pulled a muscle dragging it out of Fred Meyer. I’m kind of excited.

Harry and I are both only children, so even a holiday with both of our immediate families is small. Harry remembers a lot of Thanksgivings where the table was covered with Mexican food — did I mention he’s from Texas? Continue reading “Growing up”