Thanksgiving 2013

So I've been asked to blog again....okay, so it was by two people, but it was enough to get me to thinking about it.  But more about all that in my next post.

Thanksgiving is one of my two favorite holidays with Easter being the other one.  Because I am not a big fan of Christmas, Thanksgiving is my day.  Thanksgiving is all about being thankful and it isn't lost, at least by my family, on material things or insane shopping sprees because the mighty dollar can no longer wait for Black Friday to go out and get all those deals. 

The problem this year is that out of the blue, my younger brother John and his wife, Cathy, sent us an invitation to have the holiday at their home.  You may be thinking "What is the issue?" Well, generally, there would not be an issue....but you have not met Cathy's family.  Her mother, we'll call her Carol, has Alzheimer's.  Her father, we'll call him Dick, has lost his hearing more or less so he yells everything and is convinced the banks are out to rob him.  Cathy's brother, Rory, is schizophrenic.  Seriously. 

A few years ago, Rory was refusing to take his meds (he is probably mid-fifties) and he broke his mother's wrist, threw hot coffee on her and beat up his dad.  Carol takes up for him constantly and obviously, Cathy has issues with the things her brother had done. 

Then there is my 85 year old mother joining us,(who recently had cancer removed from the end of her nose and some plastic surgery to reconstruct it, so she has a huge dark scab on the end of her nose) as well as my husband, The Brit and my youngest son, The Lawyer. This is our cast of characters for Thanksgiving 2013.  I had dessert duty and plenty of wine.  I figured I'd need it.  Before leaving for their house, I texted Cathy to ask her if she had shots ready.  When she told me she did I knew she was not kidding.

It started out easily enough.  My family arrived first and we all sat around in the kitchen and talked.  We poured wine and even my mother, Betty, was drinking and let me preface by saying she does not drink much.  Then Cathy's family arrives.  Things are smooth at first and Carol seems to remember everyone.  A few of us moved to the family room downstairs where one of the football games were on and Betty and Carol began conversing.

Carol is doing a lot of talking about Rory, who no longer lives at home thankfully but is in a program, on meds, and will soon be moving into assisted living.  Carol keeps proclaiming that "Rory is my first born and I love my husband; I make love to my husband (TMI??) but if he will not allow Rory to come over to meals, well he can just kiss my ass." 

Then she starts talking about how Dick was a concert pianist to which Cathy states, "He is not!"

"Oh yes he was.  Almost famous.  He is related to Beethoven or one of those people."

The Brit and I are exchanging looks at this time and trying not to laugh.  Cathy then says, "I always wanted piano lessons but we could never afford it."

To which I reply, "Little did you know that your dad could have taught you."

Then Carol starts talking about her cat, which used to be Rory's cat, whose name is Squeaks and he doesn't meow, he squeaks, "Betty, do you have cats?"

"Yes.  Two of them."

"Oh, I love this cat.  He was Rory's cat and he squeaks.  We call him Squeaks. Betty, do you have cats?"

"Yes, two of them."

Somehow the conversation turns to gay people via Carol, "I just hope God doesn't judge them and that he finds a way to fix them."

Betty chimes in with what I have taught her over the years, "Carol, they are born that way."

"Yes" I add, "Did you choose to like men?"

"Oh, they always chose me," Carol replied, "Now, growing up, my sister and I were always close and we would lay in bed and hug, and people said to us 'you aren't right.  You must be gay.'.  And my sister, she is sleeping with Rory." (the sister is 85 years old mind you).

"Why do you think that?" Betty asks.

"Because she is lonely.  I am going to have to call her and find out what she is doing with my son!"

Eventually, we progress to dinner, which is uneventful other than Rory looking at my mother and saying, "Betty, you have something on your nose."

After dinner, we proceed to clean up.  Before dinner, Betty had three glasses of wine, which is a lot for her but she must have been trying to be progressive and trying to keep up with her daughter which is not an easy task.  As we clean up, Betty keeps saying, "Oh my god, I'm full."

"Betty, do you have cats?"

"Yes, two of them."

At some point during the clean up, Betty vanishes into the bathroom and Cathy, The Lawyer, John and I continue clearing dishes and loading the dishwasher.  The Brit, after several minutes, goes to the bathroom door and knocks to ask if Betty is okay but she says she is, so he goes back downstairs to watch the game. 

Several minutes later, Betty pops her head out of the bathroom, "John?  Can you come here at minute?"

A moment later, John returns with a waste basket of vomit.  At that moment, it paid off not to be mom's favorite child.  This stresses poor Cathy out more, so we pour her more wine and set about getting dessert ready.  Betty comes out of the bathroom for a few moments, talking about how she had it coming out of both ends before she retreats again and soon John is again heading outside with the waste basket. 

"I can't have dairy," Rory states, "Goes right through me. Do you have almond milk for the coffee?"

"Can we please stop talking about this during dessert.  The almond milk is in the fridge," Cathy sounds frazzled and I don't blame her.  Her family is fifty shades of insanity.

Rory makes no attempt to get up, so Carol gets up to get it for him.  As she sits back down, Rory states he needs a fork and she again gets up to retrieve that for him.

"Rory, you could get up and get it yourself," Cathy states firmly, but now Rory has his fork and the almond milk.

Betty is finally finished her bathroom theatrics, the kitchen is clean and I wander into the living room, feeling the effects of a bottle of wine and wanting a comfy chair.  For a few moments, it is peaceful and I actually videotape on my phone a conversation with Carol and Rory about how his friend, Jimmy is not really a bank robber like they thought. 

But the peace is soon disrupted as Cathy, her parents, and Rory join me in the living room, while my family is all downstairs in the family room.  I am barely paying attention to the conversation until Rory says he needs a Kleenex.

Carol looks at him, "You need a Kleenex?"

"Yes, but they are in the bathroom."

Carol is immediately up and trotting off to find her beloved firstborn a tissue and Cathy erupts at her brother, "She is your mother not your slave."

"I offered!" Carol snaps, returning with a tissue for Rory.

"You may wait on him hand and foot at your house, but this is my house and it isn't happening here." Cathy is now on her feet, the stress of the afternoon peaking.

Carol bursts into tears, "Dick, take me home!  Take me home right or I'll walk (as if she could find her way).

Deaf Dick, who heard nothing about what caused this sudden outburst, just looks confused.

"Oh, here we go!" Cathy is up and walking across the room.

"You are always putting him down and you never come to see him!" Carol weeps as I try to find a way to vanish into the chair which is no longer so comfy, "Take me home, Dick!  Right now!"

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Cathy yells as she walks over to the stairs and calls down, asking John to come up where she hastily explains what happened and then she disappears down the hall into her bedroom.

"She's always putting him down!  I am the mother, not the child!  She never visits him!"

"Carol, that's not true," John attempts to diffuse the situation.

"Kim heard everything!  Ask her!"

Kim, at this point is out of the comfy chair and high tailing it downstairs.

Minutes later, they are gone, Cathy and I share a glass of wine and laugh over the insanity of it all.

I left being very thankful for my life.