Thanksgiving Prep. Now with fresh lemon scent.

For the first time, I am hosting Thanksgiving for my family.  We aren't a large group, eleven in all, but this is quite an undertaking for me.  I tend to... overdo sometimes.  There were a lot of reasons that this came about which I won't bore you with, but it seemed like a good idea when it first came up.  But that was YEARS ago.  Ok, maybe MONTHS ago.  Really, just a few WEEKS ago.  But anyway, like a lot of things, it seemed like a good idea at the time.  So here it is, the day before Thanksgiving, and at 4pm, I have baked some cookies, asked my facebook friends for advice on how to cook a turkey, and cleaned my toilets.  Oh, and I made a cake, which zj ate a big hunk out of when I wasn't looking.  True story.  See?

Anyway, I have this ideal life in my head, and it's something out of a fifties sitcom.  I greet my family at the door with drinks, take their coats, whisk them to the hors d'oeuvres.  Holiday music is playing softly in the background.  I am impeccably dressed, no runs in my hose, high heels in place, not a hair astray.  The turkey is piping hot and golden brown on the platter that I present to everyone with a flourish, all the time murmuring "Oh, it was nothing."

That's the dream.

The reality will most likely involve a crying kid or two, a couple of spills, no one eating at exactly the same time, some things too hot, too cold, just right.  It will also probably involve some previously unnoticed dust and some cobwebs in the corner.  If my hair is combed and I'm dressed in something besides my pjs I'll consider it a blessing.

And I'll tell you why.

My children can sense when Mama is weak.  This is an inherited trait, and they get it from their father.  Today, with too many things to do and not enough time, I was weak, and they could smell it like a wolf can smell blood on a lamb.

Cj, who is the most laid back baby on the planet, wanted to be held ALL day.  He was perfectly content as long as Mama had him physically in hand.  But lay that sucker down, and the screaming would start.  Zj, never one to be outdone, did the following:

1. Clogged the toilet by putting an entire roll of toilet paper down it.
2. Made a "train" with his chocolate milk.
3. "Helped" me bake cookies.
4. "Helped" me vacuum.
5. "Helped" me fold and put away laundry.
6. Had a complete three-year-old meltdown over what to drink with his lunch.
7. Refused to nap.
8. Ate my cake (see above).

All pretty typical stuff, mind you, but good grief.  Mama's got a turkey to cook...

By this time tomorrow, everyone, myself included, will be in a food coma, and perfect or not, it will be over.