Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.
Ummm….does anyone else have PETA?? You know…Post-Election-Thanksgving-Anxiety…? I’m pretty sure it’s a thing. I am praying that politics doesn’t come up tomorrow. My family AND my husband’s family did the (beautiful) thing where they taught their kids that is was okay to think for themselves. And, that’s great, right? Independent thinking and all? Uh…no. Not at the holidays my friend. Because we ALL have very different views..sometimes living right within the very same house. So I’m hoping against hope that it doesn’t come up. And, if it does, I’m hoping that I’m not the one who (ACCIDENTALLY) opens that can of worms.
So…here it is…my solemn vow:
I will not speak of politics. As it turns out, all votes have been cast and no one has been lying awake wondering what I think about ANY of the issues. (I questioned this. NO ONE?? But I’ve been assured that it’s true.)
I will not eat, bring or refer to: Cheetos, Cheddar, Chester the Cheeto…or anything orange.
I will not speak of walls. Should I need to refer to something adjacent to a wall, I will refer to it as a “vertical structure”. As in kids…you left your shoes in the middle of Nana’s kitchen. I placed them next to the vertical structure in the hallway.
I will not wear a pantsuit. Or any political buttons. Or a toupee.
If the conversation starts to head toward politics, I will do my best to insert one of the following far less controversial topics: The “right way” to raise kids. Religion. Kanye’s breakdown. Who has dibs on what family heirlooms. Starbucks vs. Dunkin’.
If a political discussion breaks out, I will recuse myself and focus on my children. Maybe this will be the year I crack the code on who steals all the marshmallows off the top of the sweet potato casserole. Maybe I’ll watch the (hunger) games thing they have going on in the backyard. That way, when they all come in complaining about cheaters and cheating and all of the unfair things…I’ll actually know who cheated! Or, at least I’ll have some idea of what they do out there and why it all ends with them covered in bruises…
Whatever happens, I’ll do my best to remember that it is called THANKSgiving. Not AllTheThingsIWishWereDifferent-giving. Because I am thankful. Truly. I bet we all are. We have much to be thankful for.