Thanksgiving(s)

"Are you excited for the wedding," Meg asked me as I sat down on the couch in the living room.
"Which weekend is that?" I asked.
"It's Saturday, Dec. 3rd, silly," she replied.
"I guess so. I have a lot of work to do for school so I might be thinking about that the whole time," I replied.
"That's too bad. I'm going to get so drunk at the reception," she said.
I thought to myself, "Well that won't be different from any other day of the week."
Football is on the TV and I'm sick of it after one play. How can people watch this? It's so boring. Oh look. Another commercial. Surprise, surprise. I'm so hungry. I hope dinner is ready soon. They told me it would be done at 2 so I showed up at 1:30. But knowing my family, we won't eat until 3:30. I should have stayed home longer. This day is going to take forever. Three places to go and this is only the first one.

Thanksgiving is rough when you have divorced parents. Every year, it's always the same. Three Thanksgivings packed into one day. We already had one the Sunday before at my mom's mom, but that isn't enough. First, my younger brother and I go to our dad's for dinner and spend time with him and my step-mom's family. We stay and chat while after dinner and have dessert but then it's on to my step-sister's house, 30 minutes away, to see my mother who insists that we see her on Thanksgiving. I've tried to tell her countless times that it's no different than any other day but she doesn't let up. We have to be there.

I did not feel like spending time with my step-father that day. And of course, just as I suspected, politics came up and there was a heated argument between him and me.
"This Occupy bull-shit needs to stop. Those lazy hippies need to go get jobs," he tells me.
"Come on, Mike. They are there because they can't find jobs don't you get it? Oh, that's right. You're retired and all you do is golf all day at the club. You know there are people out there way less fortunate than you," I tell him.
"Don't tell me you're one of them! Donna, you need to talk some sense into this girl. She has everything all screwed up."
"Can I leave yet, mom?" I ask, "Cale and I have to get to Maria's and it's getting late."
"I suppose. It was so lovely seeing you. Make sure you say goodbye to your sister and the kids, and Mike, too," she tells me.

When we finally got to Maria's, it was time to relax. She isn't family but she feels like it, only there are no fights and it's always fun. I wish I could spend my entire Thanksgiving at the Sandor/McDonnell house but that will never happen.