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Awkward Thanksgivings--I got that beat

 I keep seeing all these ads or memes about awkward Thanksgiving meals. These messages either try to give advice on how to navigate red state-blue state-woke-nonwoke differences at the table or use them for comedy. 

I submit I had a particularly awkward, or unusual Thanksgiving meal. 

I hosted my daughter-in-law's family, she and my son and granddaughter (10 months old), and my husband. That may not sound so bad, but my in-laws do not speak much English, at least the wife. So we had a lot of Spanish and a lot of translating, with one end of the table all English (except for my occasional input), the middle of the the table Spanglish, and the other end all Spanish. We had an age range of 72 years to 10 months (she liked my mash potatoes and I have an adorable photo of her propped on pillows at the table with some food in front of her, trying to figure this all out). The awkwardness continued with the fact that I do not live with my husband, he and our son have a tenuous relationship, and he has mental health issues which translates into you never know what might come out of his mouth. He also voted for Donald Trump but only to counteract the "evil of the Democrats." I am pretty sure the rest of the table, at least those who could, did not. 

Yet it went quite well. I had lots of food, and my counterpart brought a savory dish of braised chick and one of pork, and my son, a far better cook than I, brought his dishes: mac and cheese, brussel sprouts and bacon, and asparagus. My concerns about the cornbread dressing and the turkey were unfounded; everything was perfect, which meant my husband, had no reason to criticize. 

Of course, the nieta, the granddaughter, held court. Literally. She was the center of attention. The only grandchild on both sides, very cute, and with grandparents much older than the norm and three 30-something tios (one tia, two tios), she is loved and loved and loved.  And she knows it. Every sound (word?), every expression, every bye-bye wave or clap, every laugh gets oohed and ahed. Mexicans are less puritanical about their children; they don't worry that they are loved too much. I am glad she will not have to be wholly influenced by my northern European Reformed neurosis.

Of course, there were lots of photos; my son's in-laws love to take photos, and they were dressed up to go out in the backyard and takes lots of them. So I have a strong record of the special event when the whole family, ten of us, people who didn't know of each other's existence four and a half years ago, gathered for a bi-cultural, bilingual, and nonpolitical celebration of God's goodness.  

The awkwardness probably only existed in my mind as I hoped that it would be a blessed day, and it was. 

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