In years past, I have waxed poetic about Thanksgiving. We usually celebrate with family, in multiple households. We go a couple of places on Thursday and eat like Americans, and then on the weekend we eat something non-patriotic with Viking Granny, since she's not from here.
This year, we got a baby and stayed in Missouri for Thanksgiving. I got homesick and cried on Wednesday, but Thursday, I was busy eating. I cooked like a grownup for us and a few friends, and we even ate on real plates. The MOG and I made an executive decision and banned turkey, green beans and cranberry sauce, because we don't like them.
It was one of those beautiful, sleepy days, and I had the realization that we are a family. That we're making traditions and memories that these kids will treasure and maybe even carry on. Who knows, maybe someday turkey will be eradicated from the Clark family lines forever? It's a crazy dream, I know.
Also yesterday, the furnace died. It's being replaced now, but it was 21 degrees last night, so we bundled everybody up and camped out in our room with 3 space heaters. It was sweet going to sleep with all of us in the same space. It was less romantic when they all started waking up and only had the one room to use while getting out their wiggles. The house outside our room is FRIGID. I'm trying to hunker in place, but a trip to the outside world is likely. YIKES.