1) Eat all meals with eighteen-month-old on your lap. Succumb to her demand that you give her all the good bits. Martyr yourself by refusing to let anyone else sit with misbehaving child in the car.
2) Visit someone who, if that person saw the way you usually eat while pregnant, might say things like “oh, of course you can eat that way, but I have to be careful.” Which almost sounds like a complement–but isn’t. It’s one of those things best left unsaid.
3) Bring children to a gathering of childless adults or parents of adult children, all of whom are variously more interesting, more accomplished and better traveled than you are feeling, as, in order to maintain the peace, you read “Peek-a-Whoo?” for the eleventh time.
3) Have the main meal at the children’s table. Listen to the distant conversation of the grown-ups. Realize you have nothing to contribute in any case.
4) No gravy.
I’m struggling here with the ever-present anonymity question. If my blog were anonymous, I might say more–but suffice it to say that I did not, for various reasons including the fact that Lily spent one night vomiting all over the place, particularly enjoy my Thanksgiving. I found it difficult to be thankful. Generally speaking, I just about managed resentful. For the most part, this was no one’s fault but my own, and probably added to no one’s enjoyment of the party, either. I was a surly, sleep-deprived presence, capable of only momentary bursts of intelligence or graciousness. And don’t anyone tell me I wasn’t, because I dont want to hear it.