Because there is almost nothing my mother likes better than feeding the masses, I invited a couple of holiday orphans to join us for Thanksgiving dinner this year. Now, since Sara and her fiance Jaime are new-to-me friends, I worried just a little beforehand that there might be a few awkward moments during the evening. I mean, what would they find to talk about with my mom and StepBob? Oh, what wouldn’t they find talk about! My worry was totally in vain. By the time we left that evening, I was pretty certain that my mom was looking into the legal processes involved in trading me in for Jaime. And he’s got her on speed dial in case he encounters a cheesecake emergency. For when it comes to crises of that nature, my mom is ON IT. Likewise, Sara and StepBob found common ground and suddenly there was high-fiving across the table over the shared love of… dumpster diving. I just sat back and watched the formation of two new Mutual Admiration Societies, while stealing bits of graham cracker crust from the serving plate. Which was about all the energy I could muster anyway, cracked out as I was on cold medicine and red wine. I know you’re not really supposed to mix the two (the verbiage on the box of medicine was very adamant on that point, in fact), but I figured, eh, why not? It was a holiday and the Universe seemed to be in a damn fine mood.

Yesterday at our team Thanksgiving lunch, my coworkers went around the table naming the things they are grateful for. Having been forewarned by the boss that kissing up would not be tolerated, we kept to mostly non job-related items – health, friendship and family (as an aside, there was something overwhelmingly tender in hearing a young father say,”First of all, I am grateful for my children”). But there wasn’t a single one of us who couldn’t easily have put our work situation near the top of the list. Times are hard. I know that had I been hired even a single day later than I was (and this is no exaggeration; there are spreadsheets documenting it), I would not have had enough money to continue to live on my own for another month. Me, I am thankful that things work out. And yet, this is so much more than a paycheck. I have a job where my boss cares about my success – not simply as it relates to the company we work for, but as it relates to my personal development. My coworkers are kind, complex, good people. And the view from my desk is pretty stellar. I am thankful that when things work out, they really work out.

I am thankful for my family. They are weird and frustrating and funny and some of them cook really, really well. I am thankful for my friends. For a (mostly) healthy body, a sound mind, and really good hair. Oh, come on. I kid. A little. I’m thankful for my obnoxious cat. My new nephew, who, although falls under the category of family, is still new and squishy enough to merit his own line item. I’m thankful for molten chocolate cake. And… well, the list is pretty endless and I have some deviled eggs to make for our feast. But you get the idea.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

My three-week-old nephew is a grunter. In fact, he sounds just like Mama Fratelli when she’s in hot pursuit of the Goonies and One Eyed Willie’s treasure. Unh. Unh. Unh. Unh. As soon my sister pointed out the symphonic similarities, I realized that yes, it was true and also that it had been a real long time since I’d seen that fine film. So that’s what we did with our Saturday night. Watched The Goonies and ate Oreo cookies. It was pretty magic.

Spending time with my family is always great, but throwing a new baby into the mix has made it exponentially more wonderful. He’s just so… well, there really aren’t words for the bizarre gravitational pull he possesses. From the moment he arrived, we were all in constant orbit around his Tic Tac sized toes and flailing baby fists. At least one of my sisters looked ready to smuggle him away in her purse at any given time. But while I patently adore that little guy, I was not in any way tempted to take him home. Mostly because of the crying. And I don’t mean because it’s loud or irritating like airplane babies or grocery store babies. Because it’s not. It’s so tiny and pathetic, and when it’s not totally hilarious (i.e. bath time, or the time he peed everywhere like a rotary sprinkler and we were all laughing way too hard to do a dang thing about it) it’s absolutely heartbreaking. Never have I ever heard a call to action more persuasive than my nephew’s cry. He wails, his wee little lip quivers, his chin wobbles, and something inside me is suddenly fully prepared to do whatever it takes to fix it. What? You want a pony with a diamond-encrusted saddle ridden by Buzz Aldrin? It’s yours! I’m not kidding; I’d go back to junior high if that’s what the baby wanted. Which is why I was glad to hand him back to his mom in the end. All of that unconditional love is freaking exhausting. 

If all goes as it should, in twenty-four hours I will be making the delightful acquaintance of my nephew’s nibbly parts. My sister has been hard at work fattening up his cheeks and thighs and other scrumptious edibles because I made it clear I was not flying halfway across the country for a skinny baby. She’s gone all mother of the year, too, because even his toes are getting plump. As it should be.

This week has been kind of an ass-kicking as far as hectic schedules go, so I haven’t exactly packed for my trip. Did I mention my plane leaves at 9 tonight? I’ve decided that if today goes anything like yesterday, and worse comes to worse (i.e. I run out of the house with my suitcase as it is now, containing one BlackBerry charger, a pair of baby socks with monkey faces on them, two sets of decorative baby hangers, a pair of black tights, and a digital camera), I’ll just borrow some clothes from one of my sisters. Or my brother. I’ll be in no position to be selective. In high school, borrowing clothes between the sisters used to come with a one dollar lending fee (totally not kidding). I’m hoping to get that waived due to extenuating circumstances. Like having baby on the brain. Kind of makes it hard to think about anything else. With few notable exceptions, which we will discuss at length soon. Yeah, it’s as good as you think it is.