Gobble, Gobble, Ralph

I told Avery on Wednesday that tomorrow would be Thanksgiving.

"At last! At last! It's Thanksgiving tomorrow!" she replied.

"Do you even know what Thanksgiving is?"

"Um. No. Mom, what is Thanksgiving?"

Feeling sorry that the kids wouldn't have a real Thanksgiving because I had to work, I planned some morning Thanksgiving related activities. I'm sure they wouldn't know the diff if I didn't plan anything but the mommy guilt in me is too strong.

We started off the morning with color-by-number coloring pages of Timmy the Turkey. We then played Thanksgiving BINGO with candy corn. Each kid won a game. Imagine that. I handed out coloring pages of the pilgrims and Indians and read them the story of Thanksgiving. A quarter of the way through the story, I realized they weren't listening to a word I was saying. I tried.

Chet's dad came over for a visit and I was able to finish my crocheted newborn nest for Junior's newborn pictures while they caught up on the latest and greatest. I can never get a word in edgewise when they visit so I don't even try. As he was leaving, he told the kids to ask their dad if they could come over to his hotel to swim in the evening. Chet wasn't interested in watching three kids in a pool without my help, all while trying to visit so he told them the standard, "We'll see." That didn't sit well with Avery. She packed her bag anyway and assumed she would be going swimming that evening. There was no other option.

I made venison steak and potatoes for Chet for lunch while I polished off the last of the cheesy chicken spaghetti. I served the kids gourmet PBJ's and got ready for work. About an hour before I was supposed to leave, a coworker called and said she would work for me if I wanted the day off. Absolutely!

She got to go swimming after all.

Piper only enjoyed the water when Daddy brought her in. Go figure.

Tucker enjoyed the water initially, but later on, preferred to stay on the sidelines, eating crackers and drinking the only available drink, Mountain Dew. My kids don't drink pop, except for maybe something watered down at a birthday party or other gathering. I don't know how much he was served but by the end of the evening, he was starting to look a little green. He didn't want to swim. He didn't want to sit with me. He didn't want to play. He just sat and stared.

I started having some pretty heavy duty contractions so we left for the evening. We had just gotten settled into bed when we heard some wailing from upstairs. The Mountain Dew hadn't sat well with Tucker and he required a bed change, a bath and some major TLC. As I tucked him onto the towel-covered couch, he started talking and he kept talking and talking some more.

"Mom. I sick."

"I know, buddy. You threw up."

"The pop made me sick."

"Did you drink too much?"

"Yeah. And the crackers. I like trains."

"I know you do."
"Thomas and Percy and the freight cars and Dad likes Gordon. Look, it's dark outside. Is it bedtime?"

"Yup. You were sleeping and then got sick."

"The pop made me sick."

"I know. No more pop for you."

"Does Avery like the freight cars? Oh, look, Mom, your belly. Is there a baby in there?"

"Tucker. Quit growing up so fast."

"No. I too busy."

"Well, quit being so busy and growing up so fast."

We talked for almost twenty minutes about trains and pop and vomit and swimming. I don't think he's ever talked that much in his life.

I got back into bed and my contractions continued, about every 15 minutes. This is not good timing, I thought. Tucker's sick, Mom and Dad are out of town, there is leftover steak still in the crockpot, a wet pile of towels is still in the swimming bag and Chet has to be up at 4am to work a Black Friday event. This is not good. At 2am, they stopped.

Avery came down this morning and saw Tucker on the couch.

"Oh! What a sick little buddy we have!"

"No, Awey. My couch."

"Mom! Tucker won't let me kiss him!"

"Well, don't kiss him! You'll get sick!"