Thanksgiving, or why I don't go home anymore.

Ugh, the holidays. Family. Food. Lots of things that start with the letter F that I have little to no interest in.

Every year there is great debate over where to have Thanksgiving. There area pretty much only two options: at my parent's or at my brother's in Vermont. The first (and only) year we had Thanksgiving at my brother's I was very much against the idea. This was because I was still in college and would only be home for a few days on break. I wanted to spend this time seeing my friends, not in a car for 14 hours. Of course, no one cared and we went to Vermont. Every year since I've been very much pro Thanksgiving in Vermont. This is because I was now living at home and seeing my friends all the freakin' time. Also, because having my brother in charge of Thanksgiving means my mom is not and thus it will inevitably be a much less stressful event. Of course, once again, no one has cared and we've spent every Thanksgiving since at my parent's. This year, it seemed almost definite - Vermont. There, of course, was drama - who would drive with who? Who would go up when? Who would sleep where? I stayed out of it. Mostly because I knew I would not be heard so why bother putting my two cents in. At the very last minute, for reasons beyond absurd, it was decided - we were to stay in NJ. I resolved that next year I would spend the holiday alone in my apartment with a hot pocket. I hate holidays!

I went home. This is why that was a bad idea.

Let's begin with the fact that I've been sick. I know what you're thinking. I'm always sick. But this is like really sick. This is can't eat anything sick. So this is no fun sick. Especially on Thanksgiving. I don't care about turkey. I don't think much of it. But, man oh man, do I love me some stuffing. And some sweet potatoes. And cranberry sauce! Oh and dessert. How I love dessert! But, alas, there was no dessert for me this Thanksgiving. There was half a cookie and then a stomachache.

What do I love about holidays? The clothes. Holidays are opportunities to get dressed up. Well, I suppose it is for people that are not my family. My family believes in a casual holiday atmosphere. I could get away with wearing my pj's to dinner type of atmosphere. I get dressed up anyway. I put together this cute little outfit that I purchased the night before. My mom takes one look at me and says: interesting. Not 'you look nice' or 'cute outfit', no, 'interesting.' That is not a compliment. Especially not with the look that correlates.

Holidays require two tables. I feel like even if you don't have a big family that requires a big table you probably still have two tables for holidays. Even if it's like only 3 people at one table and two at the other, there's got to be the two. Why? Cuz you need to have the kiddie table. There's the big people table and then the kiddie table. Guess who sat at my family's kiddie table? Yup, that would be me. Guess who sat at the big people table? Yeah, that would be my 9 and 3-year-old nephews.

Oh and the best part about Thanksgiving? It's just the beginning. It's just the beginning of the holiday season. Cuz then comes Christmas. Unlike the drama that came with where we're having Thanksgiving, Christmas is easy. It's always the same place. Christmas Eve at my Aunt's (two houses up from my parent's) and Christmas Day at my parent's. Every year. No surprises.

I ask my brother that lives in Vermont if he'll be home for Christmas this year. He tells me that he probably won't. That my parent's will be coming up to Vermont the weekend before Christmas to see him and his wife but that he'll probably miss out on Christmas at Joe's (my other brother). I inquire, 'what do you mean Christmas at Joe's?' He says, 'you didn't know? Joe's having Christmas at his place this year. Weren't you invited?'

I was not invited to Christmas.

This is why I don't go home anymore.