A Little Holiday Levity

Let’s be honest — the whole sit-down-at-the-table-with-family part of Thanksgiving? Brutal.

If your family isn’t fun, it’s boring. Period. There’s no middle ground, unfortunately. It's either black or white - forget all about grey! Our relatives don’t magically morph into the Waltons just because the turkey’s in the oven. If y’all act like strangers the other 364 days of the year, don't expect a Hallmark dinner scene on Thursday. Quite frankly, you'd be lucky if you get a real conversation out of it all.

But somehow, every November, we’re expected to act civilized. Like we didn’t just spend the rest of the year avoiding that one cousin who still owes us money, or smiling politely while an in-law “accidentally” oversteps boundaries for the fifth time in a row.

And don’t get me started on that sibling rivalry that’s been simmering since 1997; y'all need to square up & trade 'em or stfu already. Again: Sit down, fight, or don't show up because that shit is annoying.
Now, as one can see, yes — it’s normal, actually very normal, to view the annual family feast as an excruciatingly painful, soul-sucking endurance test smothered in gravy.

Now, I made a little pact with myself a few years back. After realizing my presence in my husband’s family life is basically that of an “optional background character” at best — no matter how hard I’ve tried to fit in, lol/fml/it is what it is — I came up with a strategy.

A secret weapon. A survival method, if you will. . .

👉 I roast them all in my head. MERCILESSLY.

Like, full-on comedy special mode. Everyone gets flamed. I mentally run a whole roast session worthy of Netflix, and the only one laughing is me.

Sure, I get weird looks. “What’s so funny?” they ask. Wouldn’t you like to know.

So there I sit — smiling, sipping my wine, cackling (after a certain point, giggles can no longer be contained) at my private stand-up routine while the cordial chaos unfolds. It’s my therapy, man. It's worked for me many times over. It’s my way of surviving the holidays without flipping the table. So if you see me on Thanksgiving with a menacing grin — know that it is not because I’m happy to be there. I’m mentally roasting everyone in the room and it's abso-freaking-lutely hilarious.