It's a Thanksgiving Miracle

Still no word from the doctor -- is that good or bad?  I'm trying not to analyze it to death.

Thanksgiving was a smashing success, which I'm still a little surprised to be saying.  Remember me?  The girl who hates Thanksgiving?  I know, I know.

Our Packers were on at 9:30am, during which we prepped the turkey and got it in the oven.  I'm embarrassed to tell you that this was my first time EVER getting a turkey ready for stuffing.  I cleaned it, pulled out the goodies and salted it.  I should be too ashamed to tell you that, but it's true.  In 36 years, I think it's safe to say this was the first time I was actually a help to my mother in the kitchen.  (On Thanksgiving, that is.)

While the Packers literally kicked the Lions' butts, I got a lot of help from Noelle with the peeling of potatoes and buttering of the cooking turkey.  It's looking good that she'll be a better daughter than me in the years to come.

After the Packers proved themselves to be the greatest team ever, once again, I threw together the green bean casserole with onions that a million people have made before me but I never have.  Remember, I'm a hater.

When the meal was ready we all settled into my dining room -- Noelle with sparkling cider and Charlie with chocolate milk -- and feasted on the most delicious Thanksgiving dinner in the history of the world.

Okay, maybe not, but how about in the history of my 36 years?  Maybe it's because I cooked more of the meal than I ever have.  Maybe it's because I'm appreciating having my mom around more than ever.  Or maybe I just finally grew up and got over myself.  Whatever the reason, I'm happy.  And I'll take happy over grumpy any day of the week.