Holy calves.
Asher was up till 11:50. He was so tired he was alternately standing and sitting with his eyes closed~ crying. I am wondering if he is just in the habit of crying or if the fluid the Dr saw behind his eardrums is turning into an infection. I wish I had an otoscope.
This morning, Asher was up (doing the same thing) at 4 am. I tried for an hour to get him to sleep, but every time I would walk away, it was the same crying. I finally ended up taking him to my bed where he immediately slept until after 8 am. It was almost worth the stress of having him in the way-high-up bed.
Anyway. I was thinking about Thanksgiving memories.
Most of them take place at Grandma Scotts. My grandparents are divorced, but my grandpa built a cabin across the street, he has coffee and dinner with Grandma every day, he takes care of the house, etc. It is interesting for sure, but it always has been, so it is normal for me.
Grandma is from Italy- born in Sicily, raised in New York City. Her maiden name is Medici. He first husband was Moresco. She is Italian through and through- he talks like an italian, looks like and italian and (lucky for me) cooks like an Italian. I saw her 3 years ago last- when Valerie and I drove from here to Utah and she cooked for us. I watched her make her sauce and I can recapitulate it pretty well, but I still can not (for the life of me) make her salad dressing. I just don't understand why hers tastes awesome and mine... really doesn't.
Anyway. On Thanksgiving, there was nothing but traditional American food. Turkey, potatoes, salads, side dishes and pies. There was always friendly competition over the roasted turkey skin. I always hated it, so I got to pick my favorite relative from year to year.
After the big feast, we would spend the day playing games and the boys would watch football.
It was our family, 3 uncles, an aunt, spouses, children, grandparents (for a while great-grandmother), great uncles, and generally, tenants of my grandmother's houses. She really is a welcoming, loving person.
My mom always hated that I LOVE her so much. The funny thing is that Valerie loves her as much as I did.
Sometimes I wish she had raised me, as planned when she rescued me as a seven year old. I often think about how my life would have been so different, then I realize I was my brothers' protector from 8-12 and they needed me. After that, of course, I was in foster care until 14. Nice, eh? After that, until I was married, it was Thanksgiving with my other grandparent's and those are not the warm, fuzzy type. Tomorrow, I will post about Michael and the pumpkin pie. One day, that story will not tick me off.
Anyway. I love those memories. I think of the large ceramic turkey-imprinted platter we used for the turkey. I was struck, as a visiting adult, how short the counter tops in Grandma's kitchen are. I have grown up.
I miss feeling like I have a family during the holidays. I feel kinda like we are isolated on an island.
I used to go to my Ex's house (where cold turkey made the day before, as well as side dishes I never had the guts (so to speak) to try) for Thanksgiving. That was always a special treat because I had help with Valerie for the weekend and could sleep as much as I wanted. Until Friday, I inevitably had to work (Gymboree) every year.
When I became single, my first Thanksgiving was (blessedly) at the Harris's, then I went to Paul's from my lab, THEN to Tiffany's and that weekend, Tiffany's aunt's house. Talk about stuffed.
The second year, I went to a nursing home and served the residents there with Valerie. That was just so lovely. I loved doing that with Valerie. After that, we went to the Harris's again. I miss them, they moved to Utah. They are the closest thing I had to parents. I still talk to them, but I wish they lived closer.
The third year, I went to Matt's brother's and that was really nice. I felt welcome, and also got the first really big sign something was very, very wrong with my health. It was after that that all the GI tests and blood work indicated lupus was not just something I was flirting with.
This year, my brother is coming and I am so grateful I have a brother who wants to be here and whose wife likes me. I have always sort of wished for a close family relationship and Jennifer has been that person for me. Since this summer, she and I have gotten very close. I tell Michael it does not get better than Jennifer. It really doesn't. I am sure blessed with her in my life.
Anyway. I wish I felt like my children were getting the same sort of Thanksgiving memories of huge family dinners and fun choosing the lucky turkey skin recipient. Maybe one day. Maybe.
It used to be that my dreams were bigger, bolder, more precise, now... especially in the last 2 years, they have become too meek as to want to feel safety and security and have the self-same feeling for our little family here.
I used to have big dreams, now I have the best dreams. Those of family, those of making memories, those of love, life, happiness, giving. Gone are the desires of accumulation, experience just to say, "been there; done that," letters behind my name to prove something that really does not actually matter a whole lot in this new world... Sadly? Maybe not?
I am so grateful for the peace the Gospel brings. To a Heavenly Father who lets me cry in my prayers and offers physical arms of support, to a Savior who has suffered all the pain I have and who can offer love and redemption. To a Spirit who whispers to me such love and inspiration that I might reach out and touch others with an invisible hand to the heart.
I am grateful for my daughter, who is really learning about love, sacrifice, hard-work and worth.
A son who loves his family so much he can barely contain himself when we are all in the same place together. Whose joy is so apparent when we come home, whose ticklishness makes me smile every time he laughs.
To Matt who loves us all. Works like a slave for us all. Has an indelible spirit despite so little encouragement. Loyalty that despite harshness toward him does not dim his faith and love toward those he loves.
To our extended family and my very wonderful friends who let me cry and don't tell me I shouldn't, give me reason to smile and passion to hope.
