Turkey Lives Matter. Just the everyday kind of text from my husband. Because he’s the entertainment in this family.
We are aiming to host his family for Thanksgiving, since our intent was abolished last year after our home was stricken with the plague. {For those who followed last year, we never did get through that 20lb bag of potatoes}. But since we’re not big turkey people, we’re trying to establish an alternate kind of feast. And because we have fairly different culinary tastes, it could make for an interesting meal. Turkey is traditional, I know. And traditions are meaningful. It’s not that I’m against traditions. But I also like to stray from the mainstream every now and then and walk my own path. And that includes the annual Thanksgiving feast. So we’re on a mission to create a new tradition as a family. And establish our own rhythm and seasonality.
Traditions tell a story. Sometimes it’s exceptional! And sometimes it’s undesirable. My story as a child comes from a little bit of both. And while I recognize that I cannot control my children’s feelings, I can control the environment they grow up in. I can nurture their sense of security, their desire for comfort and their confidence in our relationship. And I can build specific purpose that becomes essential in strengthening a family’s bond. My little family is so important to me. And my children must always know that. So I am absolutely set out to create the best kind of story [for my kids].
We already have a couple annual traditions that mean a lot to us. But I know that the ones associated with a holiday tend to shine a brighter light of remembrance. So this should be meaningful. And with as little stress as possible. Cooking a ginormous turkey to perfection is too much stress for me. Preparing all the typical sides that everyone undoubtedly has a particular preference on is too much stress for me. And don’t even get me started on the pumpkin pie. So, I am game for any suggestions. My husband has booed my ideas and I’ve scoffed at his. At this rate, we might be celebrating the blessing of the harvest with a pizza.
There is no right or wrong. And I realize that it’s not really the ritual or the meal that my children necessarily appreciate. But rather how it made them feel. My childhood made me feel very lonely, a lot. And it’s not one I look back on with great fondness. So new traditions – Trauger traditions – will be the chapters of our story. And one that I hope my children will look back on with great fondness. Or at the very least, become part of the turkey lives matter movement. 🙂
Weakness for Words 