My parents showed up for Thanksgiving.  It was a great day.  The girls got totally overwhelmed having two extra people in our house…but mostly they behaved.  My mom was with me in the kitchen, the boys were in the living room watching football. 

The turkey didn’t cook well…well, not completely.  It apparently didn’t defrost all the way – but the breast meat was done and that’s the best part.  We all gathered in the ktichen to eat, a table full of good food.  I had made a new cranberry dish my parents raved over, and our plates were full, and soon were our bellies.  The girls ate good, and the choking by Angel was kept to a minimum.  I surprised my dad with a Lemon Meringue pie (his favorite). 

After dinner the boys went into the living room again to sleep watch football.  Mom and I did the dishes, getting them all knocked out (as I’d been washing as I cooked, which made it easier).  Then we sat and talked and my parents left after a while.  For the most part…it was a very good day…

Except the part where I broke my own heart…

I asked my Dad to carve the turkey.  I could’ve done it, I should’ve done it, but I stupidly asked my Dad.

My Dad has parkinson’s.  Over the past year it has become worse.  He doesn’t walk now, he shuffles.  Everything he does is very slow, very deliberate.  I should’ve known better.  But apparently I didn’t.  He struggled and cut for several minutes – at one point exclaiming, “I’m butchering your bird.”  And then he finally had to give up and say that he couldn’t.  He was too tired.  He couldn’t cut…he didn’t have the strength. 

But other than breaking my own heart…it was good.