Home for the Holidays

I was at my parent's over Easter weekend spending quality time with my family and celebrating the resurrection of our Lord. I like Easter and all but I was thinking that people go on and on about how Christmas has become sooo commercial and everybody's forgotten the real meaning but as far as I can tell Easter's the religious holiday that's totally gone off the rails. I was killing time on Easter Sunday while the rest of my family was at church and as I sat there in my easter bunny costume eating copious amounts of chocolate I became completely outraged at where things have headed.

However, my main problem with Easter is figuring out how to properly navigate the rocky waters of my mother's preparations for Easter dinner. You see, my mother runs her kitchen a lot like a communist work camp except with less fun and interaction. There are only two rules in my mother's kitchen: Rule #1: My mother is always right. Rule #2: When in doubt, refer to Rule #1. These rules have become increasingly problematic for me over the years since I like to cook and every once in a while I actually have an idea that might be slightly different then my mom's and, well, this ain't no democracy. So as my mother was leaving for church on Easter Sunday she gave me strict (the only kind she knows) orders as to what I was supposed to do while she was gone. I was to make the sweet potato casserole, put the stuffing in the oven at 12:00 and turn the potatoes on at 12:30. Timing was critical as any slight variation from the timeline would put the entire Easter dinner and potentially the resurrection in jeopardy. As she was giving me these instructions I noticed that there was also a pot of turkey bones and innerds that were simmering in water on the stove and so I asked what I was supposed to do with that and she told me to do nothing. Great that's my specialty. Definitely can't screw that up...or so I thought.

So like the dutiful daughter that I am (at all major holidays) I went about my business of toasting pecans, mashing sweet potatoes, putting stuffing in the oven and was pretty much on schedule when "go time" arrived. I always get about a two minute warning of when my parents will be coming in the door because they an electric garage door opener which they will activate from their car just before they pull in the driveway. It's a pretty noticeable sound and since its installation back in the mid to late eighties it has served a purpose similar to the air raid warning sirens used during the world wars. Over the year's, my siblings and I have relied heavily on this warning system to provide us with a couple of minutes to either hide or end whatever completely unproductive activities or inactivities we had been heavily engaged in since my parent's departure. It is so ingrained in me that to this day when I'm at my parent's house and I hear that noise, no matter what I'm doing at that moment, I am overcome with the undeniable urge to stop it immediately and begin vacuuming the floor or washing dishes because those are pretty much the only acceptable activities for my mom to "discover" us doing.

My parents arrived home at the expected time and I felt like I had thing pretty much under control. When my mom arrives home I can usually get a read on her mood within 10-20 seconds just based on body language. The initial assessment as she walked in the door did not look good. My mom made her way to the kitchen to survey the carnage (ie. my handiwork) and the barrage of questions began. "Is the stuffing in the oven? Did you finish making the sweet potatoes? Why didn't you add more water to this pot? It's almost dry!" I thought to myself, "Do you mean the pot with two inches of liquid in it that you specifically told me to do nothing with? Sorry, my bad."

As is the trend with these big family dinners everything came together in the end despite my best efforts to help/totally screw things up. I know that they say that nothing worth having come without a struggle but I just didn't think that meant dinner on Easter Sunday. Ah well, it's nothing that can't be solved with some more chocolate and quality time in my easter bunny costume.