Tis the season for turkey, sweet potatoes, buttermilk cornbread dressing, pie, apple crisps, cheese cake, handmade candy and 43 hours in the kitchen. In the Little Bird household we go all out for our festive feasts. I can't help myself, it's ingrained.
Starting around the age of eight, I can clearly remember the all day cookie bake-a-thons. There were also the day before Thanksgiving piefests, the turkey roast-a-thon. For hours we'd hover over open cook books, measuring, mixing, laughing and sharing.
At the ripe old age of 29, it's a rare to remember what gifts I got but I can clearly remember who sat at our table, broke bread with us and in many cases had their hands in the dough too, kneading away the stress and jabbering on with my mother and I, like a bunch of hens.
Last year, we couldn't make it home for the holidays and though I baked, sauted, and roasted just like every year, it just wasn't the same. I missed talking turkey with my mom, my sister and our hodgepodge of friends.
“This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as part of a sweepstakes sponsored by Butterball.”
