Thankful It’s Over.

Trust me when I tell you the secret to great leftover turkey sammies.  Cranberry sauce and Havarti cheese. 

We had a great weekend, but I’m ready for some quiet.  It was jam packed fun, mixed in with some epic kid meltdowns just in case that holiday spirit tried to make an early appearance.  We can’t have that, you know.   

A whole packed post filled week awaits you.

I hope you and yours had a great one too!  Who is ready for some quiet time?

Two.

Two years ago, I was seven and a half weeks pregnant with Tate after a whole crazy fertility journey that took more out of Dave and I than I care to admit.  We had told a handful of people.  We were planning on telling our families on Thanksgiving.

I took my Meme to the store to shop for her famous stuffing ingredients.  I was happily making plans to put together the tables.  I couldn’t wait to hit the stores for Black Friday. 

The morning before Thanksgiving, I woke up and things didn’t feel right.  I thought it was pregnancy nausea.  Finn had crawled into bed with me that morning when Dave left for work and had fallen back asleep.  I made it ten steps to the bathroom before figuring out that something was very very wrong. 

I was on the floor seconds after having that thought.

A lot of the details are fuzzy after that and it is just now gotten to the point that Dave and I can talk about it.  Before, when I’d ask, he’d get that uncomfortable tone that meant he’d curtly answer my questions and he didn’t want to re-live any of it.

I screamed for Finn.  He was three at the time, he stayed really calm even though I could tell he was upset.  He brought me the phone and I managed to dial Dave. 

In hindsight, I should have just dialed 9-1-1, but I remember thinking they would have had to breakdown the door because Finn didn’t know how to open the lock and I didn’t know what they would do with Finn.  I don’t remember any of what I said to Dave on the phone, but he said that he knew something was wrong as soon as I started talking.  He left work and sped home, calling my mom and then my RE {fertility doc} on the way.

I either passed out on the phone with him or right after.  Then, I managed to crawl into the shower.  Again, hindsight that was the stupidest thing I could have done, but I thought icy water would prevent me from passing out again.  That wasn’t the case apparently because when Dave got home, that is where he found me.  The doctor’s office told him to get me to the hospital immediately.

Cranberry Sauced, Thanksgiving Drinks.

My sister Lyndsey used to be a bartender.  I asked her to come up with a few fun Thanksgiving drinks, she also gave them fun drunken theme names because that is how we do it around these parts.  Believe me when I say that the testing has been fun.  Drunk in mid-afternoon?  A little bit.

The first is called Cranberry Sauced and I could see after two of these, hanging out with your mother in law might be a little less painful… of course, I mean your mother in law and not my mother in law.  Hi, Sue!

Roasted Brussels Sprouts.

Dave will eat anything.  Anything.  I once saw him order and eat an appetizer of beef carpaccio.  Do you know what that is?  That right there is raw freaking meat, peeps.  Barf.  My point is, there are few things he won’t eat, but that doesn’t mean that he likes everything either. 

Vegetables are a sore subject because anything mushy he hates.  That part is fine, I hate mushy, stewed, overcooked anything too.  The part that is hard, is convincing him to try something he ‘hates’ prepared differently.  It happened with zucchini until we grilled it.  It happened with carrots until we roasted them.  It happened with mushrooms until we sautéed them into a caramelized masterpiece. 

Oh hi, Brussels sprouts, you’re next… I am going to cook you and make you delicious just to convince him that he doesn’t hate you.