Mmm, Barry Manilow

7 11 2008

Every year since we got married, my mom and sister have made the trip down to wherever we’ve lived to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with my family and I. We have a couple of traditions we mark each year: since he was born, I’ve traced Ethan’s not-so-tiny-anymore hand on paper to make turkey place cards. My mom breaks out the ceramic turkey salt & pepper shakers for their annual use, whom we’ve named Turkey and Lurkey, respectively. We have at least two, sometimes three, different pies and one cheesecake, even though there’s usually only us 4 adults eating, because everybody likes a different kind and would just DIE if they had to have anything but their favorite. There is always a dish of Berry Mallow Yam Bake (just your typical yams/marshmallow/cranberry dish, only WAY AWESOMER because over the years we’ve shortened the name to Berry Manilow, and have an absurd amount of fun talking about it: “Oh, no, did you forget to take Barry Manilow out of the oven?” and “Oh, Barry Manilow, you taste so good in my mouth!” etc.) (we are super mature ’round here).

At this time last year, both my sister and I were pregnant- I was 8 months, she was 4. If I remember correctly, the night before the big day, we sat around eating the various unhealthy foods we’d been craving until like midnight. Never mind the fact that tomorrow we’d be celebrating a holiday designed entirely around feasting. I guess we just wanted to be ready for it. Practice makes perfect, right?

Unfortunately for my sister, the next day brought with it a lot of pain, enough for her to ask me to take her to the hospital. Since my mom was out with my son, my BIG GIANT BELLY and I drove my sister to the hospital, leaving my husband at home in charge of the food. And by that I mean he was instructed to just watch things and make sure nothing blew up or burned, by all means not to touch anything. We spent the entire day sitting in the waiting room and an exam room of the hospital with a slightly creepy doctor. But! We totally got out of having to prepare anything at all for the feast, which we just so happened to arrive home for just in the nick of time.

This year, we’ll celebrate in a home that we’ll have lived in for less than two weeks. I am hoping we’ll be unpacked enough that we won’t be eating off of paper plates balanced on top of cardboard boxes. My goal is to be settled in enough that I’ll have no problems whipping up the Stove Top and the mashed potatoes and the green bean casserole. And the Barry Manilow, of course- no Thanksgiving is complete without Barry.

The only problem? I have to cook the turkey this year. First time ever. And not my first time cooking a Thanksgiving turkey, mind you. My first time cooking any turkey, ever. Is it wrong that I’m hoping we still haven’t unpacked any boxes by the time Thanksgiving hits and thus are forced to dine at Red Robin?

It’s a good thing 1-800-Butterball is so easy to remember. I have a feeling I’ll be hounding these poor people all day long.

This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by Butterball.



5 responses

7 11 2008

You can buy turkey breasts. You won’t have the ickiness of the innards and it doesn’t take that long to cook. My mom made some last weekend and it took about 2 hours or so.

7 11 2008

I’m just so damn excited I can finally drink this year after seemingly being pregnant for three years.

I may start drinking now.

7 11 2008
7 11 2008
Ethan's Oma

Wow !! I didn’t know you were cooking the turkey this year !!! How did I manage to get out of doing it ?

18 11 2008

Don’t be afraid – it’s seriously hard to mess up a turkey these days. They all have timers, and if yours doesn’t, you can buy one. All you have to do is make a little foil tent to put over the top of it for the first couple of hours so the top doesn’t overcook (remove it for the last hour or so), and before you put it in, rub it with a mixture of melted butter, salt, and whatever herbs you like. It will be wonderful. 🙂

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