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Lesson In Hedging My Bets

I love holidays.  I think it’s because when I was younger it meant spending time with family and having a fantastic reason for chaos.  For every holiday we would pack two weeks in advance, get in the car at 6am and drive the 6 (8 when my mother drove it) hours from NNY to Staten Island to celebrate with our grandparents, aunts, uncles, & cousins.  Mom would inevidably stress the entire drive, yelling at us to stop making noise and refusing to listen to my sisters’ (accurate) directions (even as an 8 yr. old Julia had a fantastic sense of direction).  I was typically in the backseat daydreaming about playing in my grandmother’s closet and laughing when mom went the wrong way as Julia lectured (with map in hand) ” I told you so”.  Good times.

I have to admit, it’s a little sad for me to not be home on the east coast with my family to celebrate Thanksgiving this year.  I am the first to tell you how much I enjoy missing the Turkey Trot (the local annual mini-thon Thanksgiving morning) because I’d had a tad too much wine, shoveling my way from the house to the car, or forgetting to make the pies until dessert is being served.  Holidays are the best.

A typical family holiday photo. I'm the chubby one.

With my sadness packed away, I was SO excited to celebrate the holidays this year with the other half of my family on the west coast (Alex’s family) that I may have left a little kink in the chain.  I am refusing to admit to seeing it.

I decided that since the baby’s due date was one day after Thanksgiving that there was no way we could plan to be on the east coast to celebrate (I gave it some serious thought though).  I decided a GREAT idea would be to plan Thanksgiving dinner at our new house (that I would make) for Alex’s entire family! How perfect, I thought.

Over the past week, I have heard (more then I’d care to hear) that my idea possibly wasn’t thought through all the way.  Everyone seems to think I should come up with a plan B for Thanksgiving on the off chance that the baby comes a few days early.  I think, the baby should come a week early but will probably be really late, with my luck.

This morning as I reserved the Turkey (uncooked, I don’t cheat)  from Whole Foods and chose my pick-up day as Wednesday, I started to consider that it was possible that everyone else was right about me possibly committing to too much this season.  If the baby comes just a little early, I’m in a bunch of trouble.  If the baby comes this weekend (this is my vote) or late, I’m totally in the clear.  I have decided to stand firm on my theory that there’s very little chance that any child of mine will be early.

I think a good alternative could be that everyone come visit the baby in the hospital on the off chance the stork drops him off ahead of schedule.

Here’s to good timing and possibly a plan B.


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