Ahh…..Thanksgiving is almost here. That day that makes you wish you had a job at a hospital that requires holiday work hours. Wait…did I say that out loud? Unfortunately, my judgment regarding Thanksgiving is a little clouded. Before you get the wrong idea, let me clarify that I love the idea of Thanksgiving. It’s something that I’m passionate about and that we try to incorporate in our lives every day. But as far as the actual day? Even before having kids, our Thanksgiving days have always been totally insane. For us, Thanksgiving has been the holiday where our families expect us to be at a minimum of four different dinners between the times of eleven am and five pm all in the same day. The hubby and I would zoom around in our little Camry, taking a bite out of everybody’s turkey until our intestinal systems were gobbling. We always declared that once we had kids that we would stop the rushing around, but we didn’t right away. We were too afraid of hurting everyone’s feelings, I guess. We’ve changed over the years, but not before experiencing a few Thanksgivings that are NickMom #MotherFunny worthy.
Before we had kids, the hubby and I would travel around during our Thanksgiving-that-would-never-end, and I would see all of our cousins who would arrive with their new babies and small children. I remember being excited for the day that we would be those parents. I had this vision in my head that on holidays we would all ride to our grandparents with our little heads bobbing in the car. Our baby would coo the entire day, and she would somehow last the entirety of Thanksgiving without taking a nap yet remain blissfully happy. The hubby and I would arrive at all four of our family dinners in a timely manner, and relatives would greet us at the door to welcome our little bundle of joy to her first Thanksgiving. I even bought her a cute little My First Thanksgiving bib. I dreamed that she would sit on her grandparents’ laps while the hubby and I ate a relaxing meal and chatted with cousins.
Yes, Thanksgiving would change when we had kids.
So how many of you are laughing your socks off right now? Yeah, fastforward a year. Our heads are definitely bobbing in the car, but it’s only because the hubby has screeched to a halt as we show up at our fourth Thanksgiving dinner 45 minutes late.
At this particular stop we were at my husband’s grandmother’s house. Now, my husband was born into a very large family. His grandmother had seven children, who by this time all of them had been married and had children who had children who had children. They all ascended to this one 800 square foot house on the same day at the same time. Needless to say, no one greeted us at the door because they didn’t hear us arrive. We squeezed into the door, and I think I took a small child out with my huge diaper bag.
We made it to the kitchen, and I collapsed in a seat while the hubby placed my daughter, who was still secured in her infant carrier, on the counter. The kitchen was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins already carrying on conversations. One uncle turned and started talking to my husband while I wondered if anyone would noticed if I only pretended to eat.
It was around this time that I started to smell something a little on the smoky, burnt side. Oh, no. Whoever was supposed to be watching the beans was going to get an earful.
I was in a partial daze when I heard….
“Uhhh…hey, man…I think your baby seat’s on fire…”
I glanced at my husband with that awkward little laugh I get when I have no idea what something means. We both look at the infant carrier just in time to see the smoke rising from the head of the carrier.
WHAT the WHAT?
HOLY CRAP-OLAS! OUR BABY SEAT’S ON FIRE!
The hubby jerks the baby seat from the counter while I’m screaming, “Sacrifice the seat- get my baby out!”
Catching our infant carrier on fire was a far cry from our perfect family Thanksgiving. Luckily, the good folks over at Graco know what they are doing, and the infant seat material is flame retardant. Not smoke retardant, obviously, but hey, you can’t have everything. After quite the family spectacle we managed to save our new baby from the blazing….smoke. There had been a candle on the counter that the hubby didn’t notice in his tired stupor. Apparently someone missed the “trim the wick once it’s three inches tall” memo. As dictated in the family holiday rulebook, someone had a camera handy to snap a picture after our scare. There’s something about adrenaline that makes you look all wide-eyed and bushy tailed.
Thankfully, my daughter survived her first Thanksgiving, and she’s none the wiser today. Here’s a picture of her rocking her handmade turkey hat. We’ve managed to keep her alive and ready for Thanksgiving 2013.
I hope you’ve enjoyed my humorous tales of motherhood here lately. Maybe next time I’ll tell you about the time we drove circles around the Pizza Hut parking lot on Thanksgiving. But, for now, if you want more #Motherfunny Thanksgiving giggles, visit the NickMom website.