Thanksgiving (2009) with my Mother

I had to repost this....



I love my mother.

Really - I do.

She birthed me.
She raised me.
She was there to care for me.
She taught me a lot.
She has always been there for me.

I love my mother.

My dad died almost 10 years ago, so she was alone for a while...but I tried to be there for her too.

So - now that it's Thanksgiving, and I have a family of my own... AND I live only about a hundred miles away from mom - I invited her for Thanksgiving dinner. There's no reason to be alone on Thanksgiving - I cook a LOT of food (all from scratch, I must say) AND she's got plenty of family around (with my tribe of kids)...

But mom's going to be 79 in April (I am SO dead for announcing her real age - she LOOKS 60 and ACTS 40), so I pull up turn-by-turn directions on Google Maps and dictate them to her over the phone. It's a rather easy drive, not too many turns... and since mom doesn't have an internet connection OR a GPS (she thinks her having a microwave makes her high-tech), I give her clear, precise directions. Nice & easy...

I did say that I loved my mother, right?

She got lost. Not just once…but THREE TIMES!
HOW can one get lost, with a copy of turn-by-turn directions IN HAND?

FIRST time – “Go out Route 54 East for 19.6 miles.” How did she go half-way and get turned around, taking 54 WEST?

SECOND time – “Take I-75 South for 14.1 miles to I-4 East.” That seems rather self-explanatory, right? No question on that….? Not my mom…

“75 split on me. I saw it went to Naples or Tampa, so I went towards Tampa.”
“Mom – you’re on I-275…not I-75.”
“Well yeah… but I saw that it went towards Tampa, so I went that way.”
“But you were supposed to take I-75 South. Weren’t the directions clear enough?”
“Well – I saw it split, so I decided to head towards Tampa.”
“You’re not going to Tampa – you’re going to Orlando…and that’s not I-75…”
“Well – what’s the difference?”
”That BIG number ‘2’ in front of the ’75’…”

THIRD time – “Take I-4 East for 53½ miles, bearing right onto State Route 417 North (Portions Toll).” People – how hard is this…?

“I see Route 417…but I stayed to the left. Can’t I get over later?”

(I hit my head against the table in utter disbelief at this point)

“No, Mom…there’s a BIG SHINY guard rail between you and the 417… just stay on the phone, and I’ll guide you in.”

She got here 20 minutes later… clutching the copy of the turn-by-turn directions in her hand.

“I’m HERE!”


Had to smile…gotta love my mom…right?


But no - that’s only the START of today’s entertainment.

Mom’s a diabetic. She’s in good health, but she’s on a regular eating & snacking schedule to keep her sugar in balance without insulin. I prepared for this, and had snacks readily available for her to “graze” upon while I cooked.

“No – I’ll be fine…I want to wait for dinner.”

I left the room, and walk back in 3 minutes later to find Mom passed out on my dining room table. I call out her name, but no answer.

Christ on a fucking crutch – I think my mother just died on the dining room table. This is so not cool…and I’m going to be serving dinner! I can’t use her corpse as a centerpiece!

Terrified, I check her pulse, and to great relief, I found one. SO - I shake her like a rag doll til she rouses… Mom’s disoriented and unable to “focus”. I proceed to pour orange juice into her til she comes fully around…and then bitch her out for not taking care of herself…

…because – I love my mother…

(I think I said that before…?)


OK…Mom survived the wait – and dinner is served.


The turkey is PERFECT - moist & tender.
The stuffing is delicious – just enough sage.
Mashed potatoes – a buttery, smooth, perfect mix of Yukon gold & Red skin’s.
String beans with diced country ham - glorious! (Thank you for the idea, Kathryn!)
The gravy is right on the money (Personal opinion – the gravy can make or break a meal).

“Whatcha want, Mom?”
“Ohhh God….I love that black meat!”

(ALL CONVERSATION STOPPED AT THIS POINT)

“Ummm…WHAT?!?’
“Mmm mmm mmm… how I just LOVE the black meat!”

(oh my fucking god… I am seeing my mom in a WHOLE new light…)

Umm… I love my Mom… and everyone is looking at Mom with their eyes like saucers, their mouths agape, and a collective “Say something before I piss myself laughing, Jim” look on their faces. What am I going to do? What am I going to say? Is my mother having a moment of confession? After all these years alone, is she telling me that my dad just didn’t “measure up”?

“Mom…you mean you want dark meat?”
“Of course – what did you think I meant?”

(holy shit…if you had a clue, mom…)

“Ummm… Mom? You know that sounded REAL bad…?”
“Huh? Oh, poo! Nobody thought THAT!”

Oh yes they did… at this point, everyone had their eyes clamped shut, teeth grinding audibly as tears slipped out tightly clenched eyelids – all laughter barely contained…

Yes… I love my mother…

BTW: Can anyone recommend a good therapist for me?