As the first snowflakes graced the window panes,

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 As the first snowflakes graced the window panes, I was busy conducting a trial run of Thanksgiving recipes in the kitchen, excitement and festive joy bubbling inside me.


My husband, Eric, was helping me do the dishes and assemble ingredients, but not without his silly taunts and laughs over how I burnt the apple pie last Thanksgiving.


Petty kitchen accidents happen, especially for a homemaker like me who had just resigned from her precious teaching job and nosedived into taking care of her family full-time! But for some husbands like Eric, our occasional kitchen mishaps are like firewood that fuel their amusement.


The feast was in two weeks, and just as I opened the oven to take out my Grandma's traditional pumpkin pie and see if it had come out well, I fought Eric back with a confident smile, saying, "Oh, don't you worry, silly! You'll never forget this Thanksgiving!"


To my horror, Eric burst out laughing when I took a burnt pie out of the oven. My smile faded, and my heart cracked. I was so upset because this was my Grandma's favorite recipe for Thanksgiving. Despite trying it the fourth time in a row that week, I got it all wrong.


Nobody could make pumpkin pie better than my Grandma. I possessed her precious cookbook, where she'd penned down all her signature recipes to die for. But, despite my best efforts, I still couldn't match up to her standards of cooking, which was frustrating.


"Ugh, I'm never gonna get this right. Sorry, Nana! Grandma would kill me if she's watching this mess from Heaven!" I sighed with a chuckle, disappointment etched all over my face.


Eric burst into a giddy laugh. "Andrea, why don't we order all the dishes from a classy restaurant this Thanksgiving? Wouldn't it be much easier instead of...you know? Besides, traditions have changed, Andy. People have started ordering food outside instead of making a mess in the kitchen!"


I sighed. How could Eric not understand the sentiments attached to Thanksgiving dinner?


"I know, Eric. But it's Thanksgiving! It's a joyous occasion for all of us, and I was trying to make the dishes using my late Grandma's recipes to keep up the tradition," I said.


Eric frowned, although he didn't argue with me in front of our kids, Shaun and Miranda, sitting across from us, playing with their baby brother, Dave.


So I quietly grabbed Grandma's recipe book and said, "I want to make this Thanksgiving memorable. Only my Mom can help me figure this out so I get the dishes right. I'm calling her over!"


Eric immediately turned to me and shot a piercing glare. "Andrea, what do you mean? It's my turn this Thanksgiving, remember? Last year was your family. This year, it's mine!" he snapped.


I could not believe Eric wanted to invite the person I dreaded in the whole world—my mother-in-law, the formidable Vivian—for Thanksgiving this year.


I thought he would understand how difficult it had been for me the past year after losing my Grandma to cancer. I didn't want my widowed Mom to spend Thanksgiving all alone in her cottage.


"Eric, I can't leave Mom alone. I thought you'd understand she's been all alone since Grandma passed. She hasn't moved in with us due to health issues, but that doesn't mean she can't join us for the feast," I argued.


"Well, who's asking her to be alone? Tell her to go spend time with your brother. At least she has someone else. But my Mom has nowhere else to go. I'm her only family, Andy…I can't disinvite her for the holidays," Eric shot back.


I was furious and disappointed. This happens every year. You see, Eric loved his Mom so much that she would be there for my kids' graduation, birthdays, Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year. Name an occasion, and Vivian would be there!


Now, don't get me wrong. Not that I despise my mother-in-law or hate having her around. But you'll know why I dreaded her and never wanted her around for this particular Thanksgiving.


"What's wrong? Why aren't you saying anything?" Eric snapped at me, waiting to know my decision.


"Brian is celebrating in Hawaii this year, Eric. Mom is undergoing her treatment, and she can't afford to travel so far. She would have to get a plane ticket...book a hotel room...pay for food. After dealing with so much this past year, I don't want Mom to spend so much when she can drive barely 100 miles to our place and celebrate with us!" I said.


I thought Eric would understand, at least now. But no, I was wrong!


"Okay, so you're telling me you get to spend time with your mother on Thanksgiving while I don't? Wow!" he hissed.


"No, darling, I didn't mean that. You know how nosey and judgmental your Mom is whenever she comes here. She finds fault with everything I do or say. It's not that I don't want your Mom coming around. Don't get me wrong. But I was really looking forward to a nice celebration this year—"


"Oh, so you mean my Mom's annoying and overbearing, huh, Andrea? As if your Mom is all holy!" Eric frowned without understanding the depth of my words.


How do I make him understand that I am not his mother's enemy? I pondered.


You see, my mother-in-law is judgmental in ways you can never imagine. Her discerning eye and unyielding expectations have turned many harmonious occasions into nightmares.


She's like this strict, old-school teacher we all dreaded—the one who used to shame us, comparing us with all the best performers in class and expecting us to shine with the best grades all the time, forgetting that we weren't bots but humans with tendencies to make mistakes.


Not that Vivian was perfect all the time! She has made her share of mistakes in the past. My mother-in-law is a piece of work, and getting her to accept her mistakes, let alone churn out an apology from her, is like a failed rocket mission to Mars!


Age and experience do not always make perfectionists out of everyone, right? But my mother-in-law is...quite different! Her eye for perfection in everything, even how I should serve her a glass of water, and her judgmental attitude were my fear factors.


But Eric would never understand any of that. For him, his mother was always right, and she should be home for Thanksgiving. That's it. My kids got fed up with our heated debate in the kitchen and came up with an idea.


"Mom, Dad, why don't we have Grandma Vivian and Granny Paula over for Thanksgiving? That way, we'd spend more time with both our grannies!"


I looked Eric in the eye. He knew what I was thinking. "No, bad idea!" I immediately blurted out before Eric could say anything.


The thing is, my Mom and his Mom are poles apart. Think Tom and Jerry under the same roof! At least the fictional cat and mouse extend an olive branch at some point. But my Mom and mother-in-law would keep fighting all the time for the silliest and craziest of things.


So, I knew I had to convince my kids that it was a bad idea. "No, babies. You see, Granny Paula and Grandma Vivian are..."


"Nightmares!" Eric finished the sentence for me.


"Why would you say so?" Shaun looked up at Eric.


Eric was visibly upset. I could see that. "Well, Shaun, it's like you and Evan at school. You boys are in the same class, but you don't talk to each other and keep fighting all the time."


"Yeah, that's because we hate each other!"


"Bingo!!" Eric snapped his fingers and laughed while staring unkindly at me.


I understood he was mad at me. But was there a chance he'd change his mind? Would he still consider inviting only my Mom for this Thanksgiving? The answer to my question arrived that very night when Eric grabbed his phone and invited his mother over for the feast.


My husband's decision pushed me to the edge of the cliff. The very thought of having my Mom and his Mom over for the feast gave me goosebumps.


I had already promised Mom she wouldn't have to spend Thanksgiving alone this year. I knew she would be anticipating my call. How could I let her down? How could I pluck myself together to tell her Vivian would be home with us around the same time?


With the warmth of the morning sun embracing our home, I stood by the window and called my mother the following day. After a hearty conversation, I invited her. Mom was thrilled, and I could feel her excitement.


... (continue reading in the 1st comment)

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