I try to be thankful every day. Some days this is easier than others. Saturday, the start of Thanksgiving long weekend, was not one of these days. Bal went golfing- a fun, beer, exercising outing while I wangdangled the girls to a grand opening party with bouncy castles and crafts in the rain. Brennyn was a handful, throwing things, demanding things, running away from me. Kaya whined. There were lines. I hate lines. Especially for balloon animals that my girls are going to fight over and then pop.
Six hours later, after a day of this, I get a text. ‘Be home in about 30 minutes. Guy I golfed with is a sponsor and has to be here for a bit.’
Deep breath. Okay good, he’ll be home to do bedtime. Nice.
Almost 1.5 hours later, still no word. I send a snarky text back.
‘Leaving now.” is the response.
Which turns out to be a crock of shit. He is literally 2 minutes from our house. He arrives 27 minutes later. Text messages are great for time-lined evidence.
I am pissed.
And do you know how he enters? He rings the doorbell. At night. When I have already put Brennyn down to bed. Are you kidding me?
I am livid.
It’s not just that he’s late and then he lied, twice, about coming home, it’s that he’s gone for 3 days this week and resentment is building that I don’t get a kid break. Resentment is ugly. And sort of takes over. A part of me may have suggested quietly “Practice mindfulness Kari. Breathe. Live in the Present” But that resentment part has taken over, squashes such ludicrous suggestions and spits them out with a melody of curse words.
Okay friends, I must confess that I steadfastly disagree with the sentiment to not go to bed angry. If that were the case, I would not be going to bed. I need time to decompress. Forcing the matter only results in me getting crankier, more tired and evil.
Bal put in the evil part.
So I go to bed and close the door. A sure sign that nobody had better enter. Until I am ready. I get a wonderful nights sleep.
Bal is up with the girls in the morning. And brings me his specialty Americano. We talk. We decide I am right and he is wrong (okay, okay, I decide and he goes with it to save himself!) We make up.
And have the best damn Thanksgiving day ever! Maybe we needed a little squabble to really appreciate the good. To savour the love and amazing family we are blessed with.
To not only be thankful, but feel it deep and pure.
The river is high and fast-flowing after a day of solid rain so we stick to the trails full of fallen leaves instead. They hum that glorious hum of squishiness and swooshiness mixed with an occasional crunch and crinkle as we walk and sway and shimmy and skip our way through them.
And still other times, we frolic.
Then we head home to decorate our table cloth. Kaya writes our names, draws leaves and turkey’s. We blot and colour and spread leaves about.
We finish up the night the only way you really should on Thanksgiving, Pumpkin Pie. Brennyn’s first. She loves it, and as you can see here, think it’s even more delicious if it’s off your sister’s plate. Kaya does not agree so Brennyn finishes up her own. Then proceeds to visit her daddy, baby bird like, mouth gaping, demanding some more. She gets some more.
A day of family and fun that we feel fully, gratefully, joyous about all day.
With just a dash of ugly now and then.
To spice things up 😉