So yesterday I had a bit of a meltdown. Basically, I threw a tantrum and locked myself out on the balcony to cry.
Sometimes being up in San Francisco can feel just incredibly lonely. Max is gone A LOT. I don’t have the friends up here that I have in LA and every member of both Max and my family is down there, too! In any event, my breakdown put Max through quite a tough morning, which is the last thing he needs, and as he rightly pointed out, my pouting was not helping me either.
I guess we all have those tunnel vision moments where the grass is looking mighty green on the other side and all you are able to see about where you’re standing is how it lacks in comparison. I was missing my family and the connections I have with the people and places in LA that I simply do not have here; probably never will. I think the feeling was especially poignant for me because I’d spent the entire week prior in LA with my family and lifelong, once-in-a-lifetime friends.
I flew down about 5 days before Thanksgiving because I wanted to spend some holiday time with my mom, brother and guncles before I spent the tail-end of the little break and the holiday with my Coane family. This is the first year I won’t be with my family to celebrate my birthday, decorate the Christmas tree, or go to Candy Cane Lane. I can’t say I’m handling it super well. A lot of spirits need lifting these days, and while I’m so so happy I can be there to lift them, the pressure does sometimes weigh on me.
We all know adulting is just stupid fucking hard. “It is hard to be a human”, as Max would say. This week in LA was wonderful in that I was allowed to pretend I’m not a real adult and be taken care of by my mommy. haha! My family’s itinerary is always jam-packed, and this week was no exception. We saw great theater, shopped at malls with Christmas lights already up and Christmas music playing, watched old musicals with Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra, talked a lot, ate a ton, and I spent every night sleeping next to my mom and her dog, which is just so comforting for this 30 year old. I guess you never grow out of wanting to cuddle with Mom. I didn’t have to pay bills, or do (too much) work, or tidy up or even make the plans for the day. It was a vacation from real, adult life.
We even cleaned out my dad’s closet, which I REALLY did not want to do. But we all came together and did it as a group. We ended up telling a lot of great old stories about my dad and doing a lot of laughing. Just a small demonstration of how we have managed to get through all of this mess-do it together, enjoy the memories, share laughter and lots of love. Seriously, it really helps.
I was able to arrange to spend alone time with my brother and to enjoy a sushi dinner with my mom and Susan. They are so similar sometimes in the way they endeavor to take care of those around them that I knew they would hit it off. I also really wanted sushi since we can’t get it affordably up here in San Francisco. Killed all the birds with that stone. Mom and Susan loved each other with Mom adding “Susan is hilarious!” And she is.
On Thanksgiving morning, Max flew in to LA and I met him at his parents’ house in Santa Monica. Along with my MIL, Amy, I prepared two of Max’s favorite traditional Thanksgiving dishes-leek bread pudding & Thomas Keller’s green bean casserole. Ok, I thought I had linked to these recipes in previous posts, but I can’t find them, so here ya go:
And I’ll just add-be careful not to use any other version of the green bean casserole recipe because they do tend to differ apparently, and if you have a picky loved one (Max, wink-wink), they will know the difference.
The leek bread pudding has become such a hit with my family that my brother just assumed someone would be making it this year, and when they didn’t, he was quite bummed.
Max’s Aunt Lisa and her family hosted a beautiful, bountiful Thanksgiving. I’m so lucky to be a part of two great families and to get to spend such lovely quality time with all of them.
For that, and many other things, I sure am grateful. I just have to remind myself of that next time I’m pounding my fists on the floor like a two year old.