I have this Norman Rockwell picture in my head about how Thanksgiving week will be spent. The house will be tidy, shopping and baking done. The kids will be quietly watching holiday shows in their bedroom. Husband will be out in the garage working on his honey-do list and I will be all snuggled up with the pooch reading one of the many books that I have been dying to read during my holiday break.

Now here is the real picture: The kids will be running  through the house screaming and fighting with each other because they have already spent too much time together. Husband will be on the couch watching TV with the volume up as high as it will go because he can’t hear over all the kid’s racket. I will be running around like a nut trying to get the house cleaned up and the pies baked even though we are expecting no guests. 

I’ll spend my Thanksgiving Day preparing a huge delectable meal where two out of six will actually sit down to eat. The kids will take two and a half to three bites and be so full they can hardly walk but somehow make it across the room to the refrigerator begging for pie. After all bellies are full of whip cream and the men folk retire for a long November nap, the kids will be watching Hannah Montana, Cody and Zack. I’ll be tackling mounds of dishes, pots and pans, counting all my blessings. The Holiday turned out, just as I planned.

Copyright 2007 by Holly Coop