Our stay in Indiana kicked off with Thanksgiving at my parents' house.
My mom greeted me with a hug and told us to make sure that we stayed outside with Silver, our dog whenever we let him out because it was deer season and hunters were out.
I raised an eyebrow. How could a hunter mistake my dog for a deer? A polar bear, definitely. A deer? No. We wouldn't allow the dog to be out for very long, and usually we were with him, but he wouldn't wander. The dog didn't really like being at my parents' house since he wanted to be with us and he wasn't allowed in the main portion of the house.
I filled my mom in on my doctors' appointments and soon, my dad arrived with my grandpa and my grandpa's ex-wife. My sister and her family joined us and the ranch house went from small to crowded in no time at all. But it was great to see everyone.
It was especially nice to see my grandpa. He's an octogenarian and he hadn't been in good health recently. His diabetes was out of control, he'd had two wrecks in less than two weeks, and he'd been put in a nursing home (from assisted living) against his will. Cuts and bruises still marked his face from the latest wreck, just two weeks ago. He looked bad, but better than I'd expected.
"Grandpa, I'm pregnant," I told him while we were alone in the living room.
"A little birdie told me that, but I was told not to say anything."
I knew who the little birdie was. Definitely my dad, and if Grandpa knew, his ex-wife knew and everyone and their freakin' brother, cousin, and worst enemy knew. I didn't have any huge issues with his ex-wife, (the beauty of living so far away during their short marriage,) but I knew she was a gossip.
I quickly changed the subject to Tom's promotion. Grandpa beamed as he heard about the general and Lyn slugging her dad. Grandpa always beams when it comes to Tom. I swear the man loves my husband more than he loves me. Tom's only flaw in Grandpa's eyes is that he is Catholic. He eventually got over that issue, which is probably a good thing since I ended up converting shortly after our marriage. But I'm a bad Catholic. We'll get to that on another day....
When dinner was ready and served, I looked at my plate. Typically I stuff myself on Thanksgiving. This time, my plate wasn't even half-full. It mostly consisted of turkey, dressing, and green bean casserole. For some reason, I'd been craving green bean casserole often in the pregnancy. At one point, I made Tom go out and buy French Fried Onions and nearly flipped out when he wasn't back within twenty minutes. Okay, I did flip out. But he hadn't been there to witness it. He was just lucky that he didn't forget those damned onions, otherwise I'd probably be writing this story from jail.
The food was great, but the aftertaste from the medicine made me grimace with each bite.
As the evening waned, I rode with my dad to take Grandpa back to the nursing home. The ex-wife dominated the conversation, as usual, but it was nice to be quiet. I was tired, but because I knew I wasn't going to be able to see my dad, I didn't pass up the opportunity.
"You should go in my spot to Dad's Thanksgiving dinner on Tuesday," my dad suggested. Grandpa and the ex-wife agreed with him.
Here's the thing. I love spending time with my Grandpa, and make a point to spend as much time as I can whenever I'm back visiting. I know that my time with him is very limited. I might have five more visits with him. If I'm lucky.
I also know that when family is concerned, people can get bent out of shape quickly and easily. It is guaranteed that one of my cousins is going to be pissed off, even though he or she had no intention to go and wouldn't go if invited. In fact, same cousin (pick any number of them) can't be bothered to visit the man. Because driving a mile out of the way is too much to ask. But if I show up to that Thanksgiving Dinner, I might as well ask to be stung by a thousand hornets. I'll get it from this cousin, that cousin, and my aunts and uncles, too.
