As the pies baked, I swept and mopped so the place would be ready for my mother's visit, and Mike watched me from where he stood bobbing the baby to the music.
"I know I screwed up this week," he finally said, "But I'm really happy." He indicated the music, the house, the baking, our family. I walked over and hugged him. The sun suddenly beamed down through the skylight onto us, and he kissed my forehead with our baby pressed between us. Sookie stood on her hind legs on the table behind us and scratched at my back, so we stuck her between us, too.
Feeling like we had made up, we went about my birthday. Mike worked through the baby-napping hour while I went to pick up Gavin from school, we spent 2 hours in the car with Leif squawking, I got to see Twilight by myself and screamed a little when I saw myself in the restroom mirror afterward (120 minutes of airbrushed immortal teens + 29 year old with baby weight and spitup shirt = 1/3 life crisis) , we ran through the grocery store and paid too much for cranberry sauce, picked up my mom and Po at the airport, ate Thai food, and drove home with a crying baby and yowling cat. My mom gave me presents (a statue of La Danaide, nice), and we crashed into bed at 10:30. A day thoroughly spent.
Thanksgiving
I baked, I mashed, I whisked, I grated. The family watched the parade, Gavin colored with grannie, Po went outside and got lost for 8 hours, Mike drank lots of eggnog, and Leif nailed himself in the face with a spoon.
All in all, nice day.
Pictures
I finished Leif's stocking (just have seaming left):
Fatty Fat Fat (tomato and cheese pie) was had:
Feasting was had, with more enthusiasm than we are showing here:
Sookie tried to eat my mother's face:
I am starting to forgive the past couple of years. I'm trying, anyway.
Onward, to X-mess.
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