Of Thanksgiving
It has taken me almost two days to get back to normal routine after a wonderful week-long holiday for Thanksgiving. While initially we thought about escaping the home and all the household chores associated, due to lack of timely planning (as always), we stayed put. It also helped that the boy in his threes had school for three full days!
The first half of the week gave us enough time with the older one. Time to organize his stuff, to bullying him to read a few pages everyday, to taking him out for eventful lunches and (boring for him) shopping trips. I was expecting a lot of complaints, especially when it came to tugging him to all the buzzing stores, however, the older one behaved quite well.
They say- good times fly really fast and that is exactly what happened the first three days. Before we knew it, it was time for the younger one’s holidays. Even though no one admitted it- the rest (three) of us knew that the remaining four days would not be same again once the little one was at home.
Motherhood is sometimes bracing for things unseen and unexpected and I woke up exactly with that thought on Thursday morning. However, as the day passed, nothing happened- no tears, no unusual mess and no temper tantrums. In fact the day went by really well and while prepping for our customary elaborate meal- I thought to myself that maybe tomorrow would be the day for all the chaos.
Sitting in our home on Thanksgiving evening by the fireplace, all those fears and the brace was forgotten. While I sipped my Riesling along with the "rarely home on a weekday husband", the two kids found a new toy to play with on the rug. There was a lot of curious exploration until each of the boys found their own way to play with the toy. And here we were again- sitting peacefully, by the warmth of the fireplace, listening to the sounds of these two little humans, while checking on the oven and cooktop for our meal.
I don’t think I have ever noticed this before, but within the next hour we were all seated on our main dining table. Each in their own spot. No jumping, screaming, whining and throwing things- just a small family of four- sitting with each other.
Of course- we do spend a lot of time together, but after a long time, it felt like quality time. When I spoke with the three year old- he made good eye contact and replied with his standard “ya”.
Before beginning our meal- we casually asked the seven-year old what Thanksgiving meant to him. Without sparing a second- he replied that it was a day to spend with each other, and to express Thanks. That he was very thankful and grateful for all that he had- all the clothes, all the food, his friends, the warmth of a home- but he was most thankful for this family. And also thankful for the time he was able to spend with his little brother!
Sometimes, children say the smallest things that mean the most. While I had been worried about keeping my own toddler at home, the older sibling was thankful that he was home. While we worried about all the chaos and the mess in the home- the seven year old was thankful and grateful for his company.
It has not been a super-hard lesson for me that parenthood sometimes is one big guilt trip. Sitting on that dining table, it felt the same. Nothing stays forever, and today that same ‘wild toddler’ was sitting and eating beautifully at the same “grown-ups” table as us. While we ate our feast- he ate his usual chicken nuggets- in the same beautiful plate as us. There were a lot of unspoken words that hour. That feeling of belonging. No matter how we are, this was exactly where each of us belonged. Yes, I am thankful for a lot of things, I truly believe that we should be very, very grateful for all that we have. But in that moment, and for the next four days, I am truly thankful to have had all four of us at the same place, at our home!
