Thanksgiving came early at our house

I watched Lil E drive off with his dad this morning, the dirty "Lil Turkey" shirt my mom made for him folded up in his overnight bag and the river stone with "I love you, XOXOs, Mommy" written in silver marker in his pocket and with the giant Bozo the Clown punching bag poking up from the back seat, and I felt the familiar tug of sending him off to his other life with his other parent in the suburbs.

It is always hard, especially over long weekends and vacations. I talked in code about this with one of Lil E's teachers the other day. She has a son who spends similar amounts of time with his dad and she told me that, years later, that deep and difficult missing has subsided over those days. I didn't really want to hear that, as real as it was for her to say it aloud. But then, it is the holidays, and even when families are happy and in tact, they are still hard to negotiate. I thought of that as the little tangle of sadness pulled through my insides while I waved and smiled from the porch at Lil E, strapped inside the car.

And now, slowly, it is unraveling. I am lucky. We had a wonderful Thanksgiving. We baked pies in my mother's kitchen, just as she and I and my Grandma Alice used to do together. We showed Lil E how we roll out the crusts and crimp the edges. We made a few dishes that failed miserably and my mother cooked a turkey that was incredibly delicious. We went around and around the table, sharing all that has unfolded over the year that has made us feel humbled, happy and grateful.

Lil E took his turn first. He shared with my parents and I the same thing I heard his say to the television that morning when some cartoon character on PBS sang a high-pitched song about being thankful.

"I'm grateful for my mommy," he said, holding his antique cranberry glass full of whole milk in the air. "I'm grateful for Mommy...and babies and Ninja Turtles!"

I laughed and I breathed in all the lovely, pure sentiment of that little sentence. If I would have said it, raised my own cranberry goblet full of chardonnay to the center of the table and my family, it would have been far more wordy and far less articulate, "I'm grateful for the people beside me...for the possibilities of the years ahead and for all we have right now."

I like to think we meant the same thing. There were many more rounds and much more to give thanks for: a new home, a new school, new jobs, new friends. And of course, the same old silly things that make us laugh, the same friends who've seen us through so much, the old recipes we still love to cook up and the little things we rely on to get us through all that's always changing.

The food was so good. We got, as my Grandma Alice would say, "a good scald on" the pies and our day was as full as it could be. Just one day earlier, that's all.

Now Lil E is off to a restaurant to share a Thanksgiving celebration of another kind, just as important, just as tender and just as full, I am sure. I am off to rescue the camera that holds most of my Thanksgiving photos, being held hostage until I eat up some turkey leftovers at my parents' house. As the day goes on, I know more and more of what is hard will unravel, so that when I call Lil E tonight to hear about his day and say our nightly prayer into the cell phone, we will be connected still. Through the missing and the negotiations of time and distance and ways of toasting each other, we will still be connected.

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How we're working this holiday thing out

This Thanksgiving is so different than last year's dinner, when we tried very hard to put on smiles and reassurances that we were just fine when we really were not, when we at my aunt's house and snuggled on the couch while everyone around us talked and laughed and rushed back to the hotel after Lil E was bitten by a crabby, old dog. It was all too much because it was a big metaphor for how our lives were then -- moving through days as best as we could, mustering as much celebration as we could and then letting the tears come when they did. Thankfully, that part is over. Or over enough.

I did cry when I realized that the holiday schedule I wrote as a part of our parenting agreement designated this Thanksgiving weekend entirely to Lil E's dad. But then, I put that all together in the middle of all the holiday ups and downs last year, so my reasoning is not completely clear to me today. This year, though, I cried and then I breathed. And then I made a list of all the things I could do while Lil E was spending four days with his dad in the suburbs. I could visit a friend in Portland, I could rearrange my living room, I could hibernate in a little coffee shop until the writing I've been putting off is finally done. I could sleep in, meet up with friends for a burlesque show and cocktails. I could, I could, I could... And it helped to have all those possibilities listed in front of me. If this is the way it would be -- and it is -- then I would choose to not just take the break from my regular, chaotic life, but to really use the time I have.

So I have plans. Not too many plans, but enough here and there to make me feel part of the world and not too many that I can't hide out from the world this weekend, too. I'm not getting on a plane to go anywhere and I'm not performing any major overhauls, just getting done some things around here that will ease the nagging in the back of my thoughts and will help me feel rejuvenated once the boy does come home.

Part of re-framing what I was upset would be another unraveled Thanksgiving is choosing to celebrate big, just a day early. And so, after some surprisingly cordial negotiations with the Almost Ex, LIl E will be with me on Wednesday and we will have our own Thanksgiving dinner then. He doesn't have school and I've taken the day off and we will spend the day fully immersed in pie baking and turkey cooking and hanging out with my parents. We will do it up before he heads out, just as much as we would have done if it was all happening Thursday.

Of course, I remember last year and many years before when the three of us were together. I remember years before that when the Almost Ex and I outlined our own choices for the holidays and chose carefully what we'd do and how we'd get through. Somehow, this year, in all of our changes and celebrations and even some crying, feels so much more peaceful. It feels like there's so much more to be grateful for, if that is even possible. This year, I'm not worried or trying too hard or feeling removed from the happiness I want to cling to like my child on my lap.

No, this year, we're at the center of the happiness. And we will be sitting at the table with the people who get it most and who we most want to toast for making it with us from last Thanksgiving to this one. It's more than OK and re-framed and worked out. It's really good. I don't know how it happened, but it did. That, thank God, is enough for now.

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This is not a shoe blog: We interrupt all this gratitude to SQUEEE!

Oh my, oh my. These shoes. These shoes. I am pretty sure I am going to win these shoes, if not in this contest then in my divorce. That shouldn't be a problem, right? It shouldn't be any problem at all adding them into the pile of unpaid bills, 401K division and daycare expenses...right?

Noooo. I am sure the Almost Ex will be delighted to fund a pair of fanfuckingphenomenal red velvet ankle strap shoes. OK, half. I am sure he will be fine going halfsies. They are worn by Lady Sarah Ashley, which pretty much makes it fate. Yes, I feel sure that I am supposed to go into my single life without a wedding ring and with these shoes.

Blahblahblah blessings. For the moment, I am grateful just to imagine how I might rule the world in these shoes. Not that ruling the world is contingent upon limited edition vintage-inspired velvet heels. But damn, will my powers of good get a little kick up in these numbers.

And back to reality: How long do you you think it will take Isaac Mizrahi to make knock-offs of these babies?

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