austin-mom-blog-thanksgiving-traditionsThanksgiving Traditions

Thanksgiving already gets overlooked; the retailers leap frog from Halloween to Christmas. I can say without apology that I resent it. I love Thanksgiving. It’s one of my favorite days of the year. How could it not be? When you’re surrounded by all the food you want, the family you love, and the football game you wait all year to watch, it’s hard to find something

Family.

Is there anything better than spending a 4-day weekend with your family? For me, the answer is no. For many, the answer to that question is yes. On the list of things they’d rather do than spend a 4-day weekend with their family are shampooing the carpet, cleaning out the garage, or pulling hair out of the shower drain. The phrase “making memories” is heard throughout the holiday weekend, and that’s especially true if there’s a trace of family drama. The two youngest kids go to blows over an Xbox game disagreement? Or your mother and grandmother argue over the amount of sage in the dressing? Someone in family responds with “making memories” and a sarcastic eye roll. It’s what makes the family time we’ve looked forward to enjoyable, or at least bearable. For the record, sage is a strong spice. Use in moderation.

The Feast.

I have a lifetime of memories of Mom getting up at 6 a.m. (or earlier) to put the turkey in the oven while everyone else slept, then waking up hours later to the smell of Thanksgiving throughout the house. I also remember the Thanksgiving of 2010, when the man of the house was sick, but insisted on taking care of the turkey because it’s a “tradition” and then infecting every other person in the house. Within 24 hours, we had all been sick in bathrooms, back yards, and on the side of the road. “Making memories!”

The Leftovers.

It doesn’t matter if I’m cooking for four or cooking for twenty, there are always leftovers that I refuse to throw away. I’ve made some pretty ingenious and “interesting” meals from leftovers. These days, the leftovers turn into turkey potpies that can be frozen and eaten later. There’s nothing quite like eating a turkey potpie with some stuffing, green bean casserole, and corn soufflé mixed in on a busy weeknight in April.

Parades.

My mother insisted on watching hours and hours of parades on Thanksgiving Day. I watched them with her, but I secretly hated them and swore I’d never watch another one. It just seemed so juvenile and I couldn’t understand why she loved them so much. I still don’t love parades, but I watch them (at least for a little while) and I make my kids watch them with me. Because that’s what we do at Thanksgiving.

Football.

In the “good old days”, the University of Texas and Texas A&M played on Thanksgiving Day. As the daughter of a Longhorn alumnus, there was only one team worth cheering for and, on that day, during that game, we were frighteningly bloodthirsty. Now that my son and nephew are at A&M, we try to keep our Aggie smack-talk to ourselves, but everyone knows truth as evidenced by the UT-A&M final stats.

Black Friday.

So, here’s the deal with Black Friday. It’s a retail-created “holiday” of its own; it’s the official dividing line between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and to be honest, I hate it. Adding a reason for people to immediately morph into maniacal Christmas shoppers turns Thanksgiving into a “pit stop” on the way to the real reason we love Christmas: shopping. I have never shopped on Black Friday, but I know many people that do. For some, it’s become a tradition. For me, it’s insanity. I can get the same prices online and stay in pajamas and drink coffee. No lines, no maniacs scrambling for the last $39 television.

The Prayer.

My family wasn’t the praying type. Regardless, someone would offer to pray and stumble through an ineloquent but genuine prayer of thanks. Everyone has something to be thankful for. Everyone. I believe gratitude begets good fortune, not monetarily, but spiritually. If don’t think you have something to be thankful for, take a walk down any metropolitan downtown area at night, or volunteer at a soup kitchen, even if it’s just for a day. You don’t have to look for to find someone who is hurting more than you. Find the nuggets of goodness in your life and celebrate them with thanks.

The Table.

God rest her soul, my mother loved china, crystal, and a full 14-piece place setting. The table was beautiful. If we’d had smart phones in those days, my mother would have surely taken a selfie with the perfectly laid out table behind her. And then we’d destroy it by dripping gravy on the table cloth, tip over a fine crystal wine glass, chipping its rim, and calling the dogs in for scraps. One of my favorite memories of Thanksgiving, though, is my 1,000-pound horse, Champagne, standing on the front porch and blowing hot steam patches from his nose on the perfectly clean glass that looks into the dining room. The snorting was followed by some foot-stomping, which continued until Mom finally let me make a plate of scraps for her. She was mortified, but I thought it was hysterical. “Making memories!”

The Wishbone.

The history of this tradition – breaking the wishbone – is a long one. The short story is that people once believed chickens could predict the future. When the chicken(s) died, they would dry out the wishbone and people would pet it (yes, pet it) and say a wish. But people became greedy and decided they wanted to keep the wishbones, so they would fight over it by snapping it. The one with the biggest portion of the wishbone will have his/her own wishes granted. The wishbone was the source of contention in my large family, all of which wanted their turn at the wishbone. It’s a fun, if not a tad gross, tradition, and the only thing that can get hurt is someone’s feelings. Feels like Thanksgiving to me!

Napping.

Turkey and tryptophan equals sleepiness. Everyone knows that, right? The truth is that turkey actually has less tryptophan than chicken. Sorry, Austin Moms. It’s true. But does it really matter? Napping after a big meal is a tradition. Thanksgiving is the mother of all meals, so it makes sense that we’d nap on that particular day. Who cares if you’re napping because you don’t want to do the dishes? Chances are, Mom will let you sleep.

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