The “Dani-est” of Thanksgivings

Happy belated Thanksgiving to everyone!

I am just now recovering from my first ever, officially “big girl” Thanksgiving — one that I planned, cooked, and hosted all on my own. And yes, I overdid it.

We had originally planned on going back to Texas this year, but with two back-to-back trips early in the fall and my parents deciding to stay home and let my dad (and his heart) avoid any of the usual family chaos, we figured staying in Arizona would be fine.

It was supposed to be small—me, Bubs, the three kids, and my brother. The only person who might join us was Evie, my brother’s fiancée, but she decided to visit her family in New Mexico instead.

Then the “mission creep” (as my aviator husband calls it) kicked in.

First Brian called on Sunday:

“Uh, hey sis… my PhD advisor isn’t going to be able to make it home. Can he join us?”

Sure, Brian, no problem.

Two minutes later:

“Uhhh hey sis… sorry but I guess it’s both he and his wife who want to come. Cool, right?”

I’m doing the mental math on whether the Whole Foods turkey I ordered was going to be enough.

Sure, Brian, we’d love to meet them.

On Monday, Bubs approached me sheepishly.

“Heeeeeyyy Dani… so here’s the deal. We have two visiting engineers from our fab in Taiwan. They didn’t realize we were shut down for two days this week and have nowhere to go. Since food will be scarce in town, can they come?”

I agreed and immediately called Whole Foods, where a very kind teenager who knew far more about turkey than I do talked me into upgrading to a bigger bird. Thank God they did.

Since I was hosting, there was no way we were doing buffet style. I wanted a full-on traditional family spread — candles, matching plates, matching silverware. And while it was stressful, Evie and I had an absolute blast thrifting a mixed-and-matched holiday table setup that somehow looked intentionally curated. Norman Rockwell would have been proud when I had everything laid out on Wednesday.

Thursday morning, I was up earlier than even my runner husband, with a baby on one hip and my hand up the ass of a recently frozen bird, doing things humanity probably should’ve stopped doing once indoor plumbing was invented.

My mom called:

“Hey honey, just wanted to make sure you’re up. Call me if you need anything today. Your dad and I are taking it easy, so I’ll have the phone close by.”

I love my mom so much — it was a huge emotional boost — and then she added:

“Oh and honey… your cousin Eli lives in Sierra Vista, and your aunt just called wondering if you might be able to have them up?”

I froze.

“Wait—what? Mom… Eli lives in Sierra Vista? That’s like sixty miles from here! Since when? I would’ve gladly met up with her before this! When did she move here?”

“Well, you know your aunt and I don’t always get along, so best I can tell, they moved for his Army job a little before you guys did.”

After some wrangling to figure out if Eli still had the same number, I decided to wait for a sane hour before calling her.

Now, “don’t always get along” is an understatement. Aunt Connie is the one person in the world who can rile my mom. She’s the older sister and runs her household like the Stepford Wives. They didn’t speak for two years when we were kids because Aunt Connie once told my mom, “Janet, we’re leaving immediately! This house is like a women’s prison!”

To be fair… Eli and her sister Annie had just witnessed the Great Cellphone War of 2008.

My parents thought it would be a great idea for Jessica and me to share a phone. Jess ignored and didn’t tell me about twenty calls from Bubs. I told her I’d shove the phone up her c*nt if she did it again. She retaliated by locking herself in my room and throwing all my clothes out the window.

Our relationship with Eli and Annie was always a bit fraught. We had some good times, but they kind of thought we were feral and would sit there with pursed lips while we did entirely normal sibling things. So while seeing Eli again would be fun, I was definitely nervous about being judged — especially on my big Thanksgiving.

When Bubs got back from his run, I told him I wanted to invite Eli since she lived so close. I tried to frame it as, “Apparently her husband’s in the Army — you’ll have a lot to talk about!”

The absolute wrong thing to say to my introverted husband.

He blinked and went, “Eli? Your cousin Eli? The one with a stick jammed so tight up her ass she tastes leaves?”

As if my life wasn’t already a bad sitcom, my seven-year-old popped around the corner:

“Who’s Eli and why would she put a stick in her ass?”

I stared at Bubs.

“You handle this. And if he slips up in front of Eli… so help me God.”

Eli was extremely grateful for the invitation — but true to our family dynamic, she hinted that she had been waiting for one. I tried not to choke on my exhaustion and instead be grateful I’d get to see her for the first time in six or seven years. I’d never met her husband and had only seen their now-five-year-old in pictures.

Of course Eli and her family were the first to arrive — early.

Since I was running around like a feral turkey myself, Bubs had to sit and entertain them. I could actually see the flop sweat forming on his introvert forehead as he ran out of things to talk about. He kept giving not-so-subtle hints that maybe I needed help, or maybe I’d like to visit with Eli, and it made me laugh even harder that neither she nor her husband picked up on them.

Thankfully, Brian, his advisor, and the advisor’s wife arrived from Yuma. The wife jumped straight in to help me — an absolute godsend — while the advisor easily carried the conversation, letting Bubs off the hook. The two engineers from Taiwan arrived well after dinner but were so appreciative as they snacked on leftovers. I only caught my cousin giving her little purse-lipped assessment of “this isn’t how my family would do it” a couple of times, and even with that, it was genuinely nice to see her.

I wish I could say it was a perfect first “big girl” Thanksgiving. I will say I did a great job with the food — especially since my guest list more than doubled in less than four days — but the chaos of my cousin’s last-minute invitation, complete with all the old family baggage, definitely added some stress I wasn’t anticipating. 

At one point, while I was elbow-deep in the turkey and trying to stop Ashley from sucking on the baster, I had this sudden realization: “Oh. This is my first Thanksgiving without my mom or sisters. I’m the grown-up now.” And it wasn’t sad exactly — just… different. A little lonely in the corners. Especially because last year, Jenn, Jess, and I fought so much during the prep that our mom literally separated us like we were in grade school again. And as ridiculous as that was, I found myself missing it — the arguing, the teasing, the chaos, the comfort of knowing they were right there beside me making a mess out of the kitchen and each other. Without them, the quiet felt unfamiliar. But also kind of empowering. Like I finally understood why my mom would collapse on the couch after holiday dinners looking triumphant and feral at the same time. However, she made it look perfect.

So no, my first thanksgiving was not perfect. But as Bubs put it, it was the “Dani-est” Thanksgiving of all time.