The First Thanksgiving

Last minute preparations are in full swing for the big day. Tomorrow Oscar will be 10! I need a break from the cooking and wrapping and thought this may be a good time to share my favorite Thanksgiving. I do not have a great history with Thanksgiving. It's not really my favorite, we always had great dinners and enjoyed being with family when I was young, but that was not rare. We spent a lot of time with extended family, almost daily, and we always ate well. Thanksgiving brought out a frenzy of activity in my Mom, understandably, it was a lot to take on and my sisters and I tended to get in the way. I remember I tried to talk her down a few times but truthfully she loved the rush and the stress. Now that I have my own kids I can relate to that feeling. You want good memories for your children and you feel entirely responsible for their experience and it HAS to be perfect. I remember we spent one year at Patricks brothers when Siobhan was just tiny. I spent the entire day laying in their bed with a serious stomach bug. Pat did not yet have a drivers license and for some reason we were driving my dads van that had an awesome back door. When we tried to slide it open it came off the hinges and we could not get it back on, Pat's brother ended driving us home and I was sick the whole way.
With that bit of background, you may not be surprised that when Pete's parents invited me to Thanksgiving after I had met them twice, I told Pete I could not go. I did stay up late the night before baking. I wanted to make a pecan pie for his Dad, as he had asked me if I could bake and when I told him I could, he requested a pecan. At that point in our life Pete and I enjoyed beer a lot. I think we went through a few 12 packs that night. In addition we both smoked quite a bit. So, by the next morning he talked me into going. It was not surprising that he didn't feel great. He was also nervous, I was new to his family and he didn't often bring girls over. By the time we got there he was having serious chest pains and not breathing very well. He laid down in his Moms room and I was so grateful that Aaron and I were already friends because I was probably as nervous as Pete. We sat down to eat and Pete decided he needed to go to the hospital. It was a blur from there, Aaron told me I should stay and eat, Kim grabbed her jacket to take us, his parents also had a couple of missionaries over for dinner and they proceeded to give Pete a blessing, the first I had ever witnessed. It was so surreal to be there, on Thanksgiving, with new people and Pete was having a heart attack. His parents followed us and we spent plenty of time there in the waiting room. Good thing I brought pictures from our recent trip to Seattle. Here was Pete with my nephew and a 40 ounce, here's us at the bar, here we are in Chinatown with mini Sapporo's.
In the end it didn't take much to deduce that he really just had a hangover/panic attack of sorts. I was so happy that he was okay. Mostly though, it was that day that made me realize how great his family was. Kim and his parents were obviously worried about him but as guilty as I felt they never made me feel bad. They were so nice. Nice enough to invite me back over. I also think that was a big day for Pete and I, it was only a few weeks later that he proposed. By the next Thanksgiving I would be pregnant with Hans. I have spent every Thanksgiving since that first with Pete's family, on the off years usually at our house. I will miss them so much this year. I am sad that I'm not there to make a pecan pie for John or do a Thanksgiving art project with Sharron. So, tomorrow night I may have to commemorate my initiation into Pete's family and crack open a Red Dog. But just one.