Bitter sweet Thanksgiving...

The holidays are getting tougher every year as my grandparents are ailing and such is the way life is. We have been prepared for this particular year to be extra rough due to the fact that hospice has been brought into their home and they now have 24 hour care. Most of the time 2 people at a time. Someone to care for my Papa who is pretty much bed ridden and one for my grandma. We usually have Thanksgiving over at my brother and his wife's place since she loves to host this particular holiday. This year mom was planning on being with the grandparents all day to take care of them (along with our male day nurse) and make them a turkey dinner. My brother and his wife still planned on having it at their house. I planned on hopping back and forth. Usually we have a larger crowd, but this year it was just us and my dad and his wife and D's father is in town so a total of 6. Since my mom usually brings over a lot of the food for Thanksgiving, she had still planned to make stuffing and send it over with me. I of course was bringing my usual bottle or two of wine. Mom and I were awoken to a 4am phone call. The paramedics had been called on my grandma. I got up with mom as she dressed to head over and my heart broke when she realized she wasn’t going to be able to now work the extra Black Friday job she had signed up for at the Disney Store to make some extra money. As I returned to bed I lay awake tears running down my face wishing I could do something. Anything to help her out, but I'm doing what I can. She knows it. I know it. But my heart breaks for what she is trying to juggle right now. I take a deep breath and think positive. I will keep my chin up. She pops back over around 8 saying grandma will be ok and released if the x-ray on her tummy comes back ok. She then broke it to me that I had to make the stuffing. Oh lord. Now for the comic part of my blog. So mom started to explain what I needed to do why I whined that something had to be open that I could just go buy some stuffing. She laughed and said it will fine and to use a casserole dish. When I asked what a casserole dish was she just laughed and lowered her head, pausing realizing how sad her daughter really was when it came to cooking. As she left to return to the hospital I puffed up my chest and thought "I can fucking do this." I laid everything out, glanced at the time and decided to get in a morning walk. It was beautiful out. I worked up my heart rate and returned sweaty and amped. "I can make stuffing." After my shower mom called and informed me they were coming home and if I could bring a change of clothes for her when I came by. I turned on my "Happy" playlist and started in. I was singing along and cutting celery when "slice". One of the celery sticks filled with blood. Yup. Cut my pinky. Shit. Tossed that celery piece, washed and bandaged my finger. This will not deter me. I then began cutting the onion. OH MY GOD. How do you people do it!!!! My eyes were pouring with tears. I kept walking into the other room trying to clear the air. I finally text my friend who is a ridiculously talented cook and asked her WTF. She told me to stick my head in the freezer. And no shit - it totally worked. She also said she wears goggles when she cuts onions so I felt a little less of a wussy. I turned to put the giant knife in the sink when Tweaks ran between my legs and I tripped almost impaling myself. Awesome. I learned what a chicken bouillon is and started to make broth. Who knew these ugly little squares can make a broth. As I was stirring them and trying to mix it up I started to smoosh them with a spoon since they werent dissolving as quickly as I hoped. Sploosh!! Bouillon broth in the eye. FYI - this does NOT feel good. Ok done. Melted the butter. Burnt it. Fuck. Melted another bowl of butter. Success. I mixed everything together with a mix, sprayed the casserole dish and read the directions to put it in covered. This is the one time I had to call my mother. "Can you put foil in an oven?" I asked. "Of course you can, why on earth would you think not?" mom asks. "Well you can’t put foil in a microwave!". I hear her sigh and I stick the stuffing in the oven covered in foil. Who knew? As I finished getting ready the house began to smell like stuffing. Real stuffing! Not burnt food! The buzzer rang and I took off the foil for it to cook a little longer. When it was supposed to be done I kept taking it out and putting it back in. I did this about 5 times. One time actually turning the oven off and back on again. Did it look right?! Was it cooked right?! How do you people tell these things. It tasted ok. Dammit. I crossed myself even though I'm not Catholic and packed it up. Off to grammas I go. I brought in the stuffing for mom to taste and she said it was just fine! Yay!!! That prompted this photo:

I can’t believe I actually made something. And no, this does not mean I like it or want to do it again. It took way too long and was way too much work. I'm just not a cook. I really need to marry someone who does :) I sat and tried to visit with Papa. He was pretty out of his mind today. But we had moments of clarity. He was proud I made stuffing. Gramma was sleeping so I headed out. Shane and D's Thanksgiving was lovely. We of course ate 2 hours later than we planned. This has become quite a tradition. D said every year they say "Maybe we should put the turkey in earlier this year". Every year. But the food was fantastic, Shane loved my stuffing - he was the main test - and we drank and ate like gluttons. It was nice but we missed mom. I only snapped one photo this year, I know I'll regret that one but I did get the usual shot of Shane and dad battling cutting the turkey:

My mind was elsewhere this year though. MRI's and doctor visits for me have my thoughts, I worry about my mom, I'm sad about my grandparents, so much going on it seems. I deal with things much differently now, but I still have moments of drifting. I said my goodbyes and headed back over to gramma's. It's a good thing I did. Mom was feeding Papa and I tended to gramma. Our man had left early and our other gal wasn’t coming until 6. Mom ate her dinner in between running around and we switched grandparents throughout the night. When I was visiting with Papa he looked at me. Really looked at me and said your mother is amazing you know. I said I know she is. We had a wonderful conversation that was real. I told him about moving out and he knew Shane was working on the place. We talked a bit about Chapman. And he asked about my dating life and told me that he really wanted me to find a man who would treat me right. Then he looked away and when he turned back I knew he was gone again. Back came the talks of people trying to steal trees and things being torn up and a park being built. I swear one of the hardest things I have ever had to deal with in my entire life is watching someone you love lose the mind. My Papa looks so meak in his hospital bed and I know he hates it and when he's with us he wants to be. I know it's life. I know the man is 97 years old and I savor every single second he's with me. But it's hard. As he drifted off again I thought to myself how grateful I am for so many things in my life. Yes, we have struggles and yes my family is going through a hell of a time right now with many things, but we have each other. Shane showed up a while later (I think my dad guilted him into coming) and Papa's eyes lit up. I am thankful for my life. I am thankful that the staff at St. Joseph’s Hospital helped save my dumb ass. I am thankful for my grandparents love and especially my Papa who has taught me how to love. I am thankful for my mother who is a survivor and a fighter. I am thankful for my dad and his wife who help when then can. I am thankful for my brother and his wife and that they have and love each other. I am a lucky girl. I have a brilliant family, wonderful friends, a roof over my head, health insurance, 2 precious kitties, a fantastic job and my creative and humor. I am thankful. I am grateful. So very much so. I wish nothing but peace and love to all of my readers and remember to always be grateful for moments. Hold on to them. Remember them. Write about them. Share them. Thank you .