Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and for the first time we're hosting. Eight adults, two toddlers, one oven, and a duplex dining room that is technically also our living room, our playroom, and the place where the laundry goes to wait.
Last year the twins were seven months old and we went to Dan's parents in Sacramento. I remember eating mashed potatoes standing up with June asleep on my chest and thinking, next year will be easier. Reader, next year is here, the babies can now run, and they have opinions about napkins.
So this year I'm doing something I'm not naturally good at. I'm lowering my expectations before anything goes wrong instead of after.
Why we said yes to hosting
Honestly, it was the car ride. Sacramento is about an hour and a half without traffic, and there is no such thing as Thanksgiving without traffic. At nineteen months, Theo and June will tolerate the minivan for maybe forty minutes before it turns into a hostage negotiation. My mom is coming up from San Jose, Dan's parents offered to drive down, and suddenly hosting looked easier than traveling. Mostly because the twins' cribs are here.
The menu I cut in half
My first draft of the menu had eleven dishes on it. I was going to brine a turkey. I was going to make rolls from scratch. I had a pie list.
Then I did the math on nap time, which runs roughly 12:30 to 2:30 if the stars align, and realized that was my only real cooking window on the day. Here's what survived:
- Turkey breast, not a whole bird. A bone-in breast roasts in about two hours and doesn't take over the entire fridge. Nobody at our table fights over the drumsticks anyway.
- Mashed potatoes, made tonight. They reheat in a slow cooker with a splash of milk and nobody can tell.
- Green beans, roasted on a sheet pan, because I will always choose the sheet pan.
- Stuffing from a bag, doctored with celery, onion, and sausage. My mother-in-law is bringing her real stuffing too. There will be a stuffing summit.
- Store-bought rolls and one pumpkin pie from the grocery bakery. My mom is bringing an apple pie because she doesn't trust me, which is fair.
Total grocery spend so far is $138, and that includes the wine. I was braced for $200.
What I'm expecting from the twins (almost nothing)
Here's where the lowered expectations really come in. I am not expecting Theo and June to sit at the table. I am not expecting them to eat turkey. I'm expecting them to eat roughly six bites of dinner roll, a handful of plain green beans, and whatever cranberry sauce ends up on their faces.
I'm feeding them a normal toddler dinner at 4:30, before the adults eat at 5:30. They'll join us in their high chairs with a few things to pick at, and when they're done, they're done. My mom has volunteered for "first shift" of chasing them around the living room so Dan and I can each eat a full plate while it's still warm.
I also moved anything breakable off the low shelves this morning. That includes the good gravy boat, which is now on top of the fridge, where it will probably stay until Christmas.
The things I'm letting go
- Matching outfits for a photo. If I get one picture where both kids are in frame and nobody is crying, that's the card.
- A clean house when people arrive. It will be tidy-ish. The toy bins will be visible. Everyone here has seen toys before.
- Bedtime at exactly 7:00. If they go down at 7:45 because Grandpa is doing the airplane thing, fine.
- Doing it all myself. Dan is on turkey and dishes. His dad is on carving. My job is sides and not crying in the pantry.
What I actually want out of the day
When I strip away the stuff I think Thanksgiving is supposed to look like, what I want is pretty small. I want both grandmothers in the same room watching the twins do their weird little chase game around the couch. I want Dan to sit down for more than four minutes. I want one slice of pie, eaten after the kids are asleep, with no one touching me.
If the turkey is dry, there's gravy. If the kids melt down, there's a crib down the hall. If it all goes sideways, we order pizza and call it a new tradition.
I'll report back. Happy Thanksgiving to every parent out there peeling potatoes at 9 p.m. tonight while someone yells "Mama" from the crib. I see you. I am you.
