How I Royally Messed Up Thanksgiving Dinner

Thanksgiving is one part being extremely greatful and one part eating a massive delicious meal, right? Well none of the above happened today in my home. 

Saying that, "everything went wrong" would sound too overly dramatic and unbelievable so instead, I'm going to take you through everything I did that really messed up our Thanksgiving dinner. 

We'll start off with the night before when I had to make a last minute run to a grocery store because I went through my recipes and relized I forgot to pick up unflavored gelatin. Now I wasn't informed that stores are now open the day of Thanksgiving. Maybe it was a lack of 21st century common sense or maybe it was the fact that typically I've never stepped foot out of my home during the holidays epically as a child, and I've always assumed the rest of the world was doing the same. Wrong. So I'm making this late night trip and I can't find what I need at one store and end up having to go to another. By the time I get home it's a quarter past midnight. Not so great for my game plan of, "get a bunch of sleep so you can wake up early and cook all day!" 

I finally shut my eyes and my alarm clock is sounding five minutes later. Well it was actually seven hours later but it felt like an instant. The thing is, holiday or not, I am not very good at being very good in the mornings. I've been known to be excessively mean and snappy. In fact, my husband nicknamed me the dragon. And you don't wake the dragon. But here I am, dragging myself up and out, scales and all towards the kitchen. 

That's when I noticed that the pretty sparkling clean kitchen I had the night before in preparation for the day was gone. My cutting board was layered in something black as night and juicy. I would have believed it was poison if I was told so. And then there was the nice dirty pile of dishes I needed to use in the sink to my right. 

That's when the first fight with my husband began as he cleaned his mess. From there on, it was all down hill. Maybe there really is a wrong side of the bed to wake up on. 

I started cooking my pumpkin pie first when I realized I needed more brown sugar than we had. I had a mini meltdown about the stores being closed and that's when Nick decided to tell me our neighborhood store was open today. Why he couldn't tell me this last night, I'm not sure. I sent him out and he returned with what I needed. Everything went smoothly until I got around to the whipped topping. I should point out that I, in fact, thought I could play Martha Stewart this year and cook every single thing from scratch. I even used all Martha recipes with no exceptions. So I intended to make the whipped topping myself. 

At one point my brain said, "Duh Jessica, you don't have a mixer of any kind so how are you going to whip this up?" But my heart faithfully responded, "I'll do it by hand really fast!" 

When I failed to make puffy peaks of heavy cream and sugar I asked my husband if he could do it any faster than I could. When he couldn't, I said, "I know! Get out the blender!" 

Nick poured our failure into the blender and started it up. Five seconds later there was smoke and cream turned into charcoal-like chunks flying everywhere. Apparently nick didn't screw the bottom of the blender together. Cue second argument of the day. By that point, I pulled out the cool whip that was bought in case of an emergency and slapped that on my pie instead. 

I was going through my next recipe, for stuffing, and pulling ingredients out when I saw that our celery had spoiled so I had to send Nick to the grocery store yet again which was asking for another fight and demand to check all recipes for missing or insufficient items. Fast forward to the part where I take my stuffing out of the oven and realize that 50% of it stuck to the bottom of the pan and the rest of it is soggy. I accepted my defeat of the stuffing and was optimistic that everything else would turn out smoothly. 

Smoothly is an antonym you could use to describe both my mashed potatoes and sweet potatoe casserole. You see, I thought it would be a smart idea when I bought my potatoes to put them in the freezer so they might keep longer and I set them out to thaw the night before. This was wrong. They thawd out into a soggy but not questionable enough mess of spuds. I kept working on them and went about making regular dishes. As I said before I don't own any kind of mixer and I also don't yet own a potatoe masher. I used my husbands strong arms and a fork to mash the potatoes. Or to fail at mashing the potatoes. When I thought the lumps would be little enough to grin and bear I let him stop and set the potatoes aside along with my finished sweet potatoe casserole that I wrapped aluminum foil over to keep warm. 

I also made green been casserole which seemed to go normally enough. 

Everything was coverd with foil and set aside. 

The turkey went last, which is apparently, the wrong order to work in, and was probably my biggest disaster of all. I managed to dry out the meat but leave the skin soggy and in the end it was the worst turkey I had ever tasted, not just from myself, but ever in my life. 

After the turkey came out Nick wanted me to quickly reheat everything in the oven. So we put everything in, at the same time, while covered in foil. This is really where Thanksgiving burried itself alive at our house. 

My marshmellows melted into the lumpy sweet potatoes. My stuffing turned black. My green beans went soggy. Yet we still dressed the table and piled our plates high like we were going to enjoy every last bite. After one bite of each item, I actually began to cry. I have never in all my loved years of cooking screwed up everything in a meal at the same time. Especially not on a holiday meal that consisted of so much planning and thought. 

Not to mention the stress the day had brought and the petty fights my hubby and I got into. After everything, I was  a exhausted broken down and broken hearted sobbing mess. 

My husband held me for a while after my fit and we said our sorries and promised to have more patience with each other next time. Then we agreed that some day, maybe not tonight or a month from now, but maybe five Thanksgivings from now, (while we eat all of our boxed and canned Thanksgiving foods) we will laugh about this.

And that's what brings me to what I'm thankful for. 

And this year, I'm thankful that my pumpkin pie didn't taste like shit. 

Getting to Know Me

I thought I'd share more about myself tonight to give any readers more of an opertunity to get to know me and my current life. 

This is me, Jess. Something that's not commonly known about me is that I secretly struggle with accepting my own body image though my numerous shameless selfies would convince you otherwise. The truth is, no matter what size I've ever been at in my life I have always had a melt down in a dressing room during bikini season. Even when I was a petite middle schooler, I can recal crying in my moms lap for how much I felt like I loathed my own body. 

It's not common for me to share this with anyone though because I feel like this is a "weakness," if you will, that other girls like to target most often. And I've always felt that if I kept how I felt about it to myself than no one could ever hurt me with it. 

In the right clothing I will literally be dressed in strength and radiate confidence but when it comes to things like bikini season I shatter and become incredibly nitpicky.  

"My boobs are non exsistant." 

"My feet are too wide." 

"My butt has too much cellulite." 

"My back arches too much so my stomach isn't flat enough." 

And those were all pre-baby complaints. 

I have those kind of hips that expand and get wider when you carry a child and that's typically not something that ever changes back after having a baby no mater how many pounds you shed. 

And I haven't even begun to explain the severity of the stretch marks I gathered. By the end of my pregnancy even the nurses at the hospital I delivered at were wincing and saying, "oh you got it really bad hun," and, "you poor thing." 

A year and a half later and time has done its thing and I've cried out all the tears I had in me about what my body became, the scars are fading and I have learned how to ignore whatever I don't like and take pride in whatever I do. 

My body did something incredible and life changing and though I can't muster up the courage to even humor the very thought of buying a swimsuit each summer I still would never blatantly call myself ugly. I still fell like I am a strong and beautiful human being and I will never believe that my body image makes me unworthy of being loved. Still, don't invite me to the beach any time soon. 

I'll show up in a parka. 

This is my home. I live on a pretty secure military base so I'm not too afraid to post this. This is the first place Nick and I have together been able to call our own. We don't own it, the military does and we rent it from them while they want Nick here at this location. And honestly we could have to leave at any time of the year. That's what I love about the military, it's so adventurous. This photo was taken when we first moved in at the beginning of March this year. It's a three bedroom, two bathroom, open floor plan house. I originally said I wanted to garden but after dealing with a traumatic amount of spiders INSIDE our home I decided that I didn't want to have fun outside of it in fear of how much worse it could be. Plus Texas is sweat underneath your boobs kind of hot. Yeah don't put me down for that. 

So therefore, most of my attention has been focused on the inside of our home rather than the outside. 

That poor dead grass will never be revived. 

I'll do a post about what the inside of my home looks like after it's nice and tidy and not a hair is out of place for photographs. 

None the less, I'm proud to call this home. San Antonio is a really cool place to be. I've done a fair amount of scavenging the city. Depending on where we go next, I might actually be a little sad to leave this place. 

This is my hubby and this photo does incase his personality. He is in fact, a cannibal. 

I'm just kidding. He's just really goofy occasionally. I accept that because I'm even goofier and he accepts that so I kind of have to too. 

Depending on what day it is (what time of the month) we like each other. Or not. 

This day, we did. 

Oh, you might notice that he's mixed. And we are in fact an interracial couple and believe me when I say I'll have blog posts in the future about that as well. I however, hardly ever notice he's a different color than me. I'm positive he feels the same. 

 This is our adored child Liv. Elivia for long. She's my utmost favorite. It's safe to say both Nick and I like her a lot. 

She looks a lot like me and like my mom. And sometimes I'll catch her making a weird face and she will look like Nicks little brother too. 

She prefers to take her baths with me because it makes her feel safer. I'm down with that. What ever makes my child feel secure. Plus it's extra sweet bonding time and she gets super cuddly and happy during bath time. 

These are the things that I'd say are most relevant in my life. Myself, my home, my marriage, and my child. It might not sound like a whole lot but the more you get to know me, you'll learn that that's more than enough for me to handle for the time being. I can't wait to tell you guys more about each and everything.

I'll Tell You How I Really Feel. About Target.

I try very hard to not get consumed by how much I want a possession but every time I walk into Target, that feeling runs out the door I walked into. Every time I scan the isles with my hubby I look back every forty or so seconds to say, "Baby can we please just win the lottery?!" 

Honestly I buy everything from my groceries, my clothes, hubby's clothes, and baby's clothes, toys, electronics, makeup, furniture, diapers, just everything comes from Target. It's hard to walk through my home a spot something that wasn't bought at Target. 

This time of the year though, this carol singing, family gathering, flurries falling, time of the year is the absolute worst for me. I'm just being real when I say that I don't have the funds for what I'd really like to do every time I walk into a Target, our military family of three stays on a strict budget and there's only a tiny bit of wiggle room allowed where I have to decide what's really important to splurge on. Maybe taking the little one to the Children's Museum or surprising hubby with that game he has been talking about all year or a bit of extra savings for a vacation. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, we are very happy and fortunate to have what we do. But when I go to Target, the humble and reasonable Jessica is sucked out of my soul, I swear it. 

The Christmas trees all lit up begging to be standing seven and a half foot tall in my living room. The Disney baby dolls want me to wrap them up in the woodland style wrapping paper I saw back on isle D23. How will the baby ever get through the winter with out that tiny tweed coat with the over sized buttons?! That throw is begging for me to wrap it around my shoulders while sipping that Archer Farms brand hot chocolate out of those Threshold teacups and it would look darling on my couch. On second thought, I should just buy a new couch too! Oh, it's so easy to get carried away. 

Now outside of a Target when I regain my composure, I know that the holiday season isn't about wanting things, it's about giving things, so I try to avoid stepping in as much as I can. 

I guess all it really comes down to is that if Santa was real, I'd be a good girl all year long to get some Threshold goodies under my *Target bought* Christmas tree. 

Does anyone else feel this passionately about any place or places they shop? I'd love to hear from some readers if there's any! 

My Thoughts on Bullying

Quite honestly this is a topic I may speak about frequently. It is like a small rubber ball that bounces around inside of my brain and it can change direction at any given moment. The change in direction represents my shift in feelings about bullying. But one thing never does change and that is that I do not tolerate bullying. Not just to myself, to anyone at all really. But what does constantly change is my approach at how to deal with the issue. Sometimes I feel like I need to speak directly to the source. Sometimes I feel like its best to do nothing. Today I was caught in between.

The thing is, I was bullied myself as a child and teen and occasionally I still am today. However I take bullying a lot different today than I used to. I know better now. And most of the time now if I'm being bullied I can recall all of my past as a whole and it doesn't seem so bad in the present. But not a lot of people work the way I do. What works for me might not for the next person. 

Today I was faced with another person I know being mercilessly bullied over social networking. It was disgusting and my heart felt for this person. But no matter how much I desired to help them I still felt powerless. Why? Because this bullys mother was instigating her child. As a new mom myself, I will blatantly say, I find that repulsive. 

I would move mountains if my child was ever being bullied, yes, but what about if my child was the one doing the bullying to another. Would it ever be justifiable? The answer is no. And by me saying that, society takes a very small and possibly unnoticeable win. It is never okay to let your child bully someone or to be on their side while they do so. 

We as human beings should know this, it should feel morally wrong. But we all too often ignore our morals today. How many super hero movies have we watched and how many more do we need to watch to know that good will always overcome bad? How many times do we need to be taught that lesson? We may not be super heros staring in a feature film; we are real people, and we are effecting society through a ripple effect. So in a way, it's almost as if we are each a small part of a super hero. An arm or a knee cap. And when many of us do the right thing at the same time we are taking a big swing at an evil villain together. 

The problem with society today is that too many people are doing bad things together. There's more villains than there is heros. Sometimes mean girls grow up to be mean women and they have children and they teach them that it's okay to be mean as well. Maybe not intentionally sometimes and typically not as toddlers or small children, though some do. And we can't change that because when it comes to changing others, we are powerless. But when it comes to changing ourselves, we hold all of the power. 

We can be super hero moms who are proactive about our kids behavior. We can influence them to be kind and we can encourage them to be productive. Sure, some are harder to get through to than others but it should never be from lack of trying. We have the power to make the generation that our own bodies are creating a better one in the tomorrows. 

I will be a super hero mother. When I am caught in between what is right I will take that as an opertunity to show my children the power of goodness. I will never justify my child bullying another person. Just as much as I would never justify my child bullying your child; if you have any as you read this. And if we each did the same for each other, this problem that is ripping through our children's hearts will significantly decrease. I'm asking anyone at all to feel the same as I do. Do what you can, what is in your power, to make our world a better place. If not for us, then for our children. 

If my daughter ever eloped

I can't lie and say I wouldn't be heartbroken to miss the chance to see my daughter wed. But after all, I was wed under an oak tree surrounded by people I had just met on an Easter Sunday while I was a full eight months pregnant. My mother only received a phone call while I took a moment in the bathroom of an unfamiliar house. And she wished me good luck. If my daughter, Liv, ever decided to elope I can only hope that it would incase the beauty of a simple love. I hope she's always humble and minimalistic and I hope she can find something pretty inside of everything. My mom never talked to me about love. I only gathered what I knew from my parents marriage which later fell apart and from sappy romance movies. Since I always wanted to have a baby and start a family, I always wanted to be in love too. I had unrealistic expectations. When I teach my daughter about love, and I fully intend to, I won't be afraid to tell her I endured many heart breaks before I found her father. I won't leave out the rough patches during my teenage years and how I learned that loving someone and being in love with someone were two different things. I'll teach her that there is all kinds of love, including infatuation and lust. Maybe by learning all I have to teach she will have a better understanding of what a marriage should realistically look like. I want her to have puppy love so she takes her time having a crush. I want her to have a few let downs and rejections so her heart grows strong and she appreciates the people that do reciprocate even more. I want her to have a long lasting first love so she begins to understand what devotion feels like. She will, like the rest of us, get her heart broken at least once, I want this to teach her about loss and show her how to cope in a healthy proper manor. I want her to feel like she has a mother she can cry to when she goes through a breakup. I also want her to spend time alone and feel content with it. I want her to love herself before she loves another. I hope she learns from love and I hope she grows from her experiences. And I hope she will know when the time is right for her to settle down. I hope she has a marriage more beautiful than her wedding. If Liv ever eloped, I wouldn't really feel left out if I was the one who taught her about love and life, I would have the knowledge that I was there for her, in her heart.

Newborns and First Time Parents

New babies get the highest praise from any new parent. The second a newborn comes out of the womb of a mother who has never before birthed a child, every hit Whitney Houston song begins to loop on the parents brain. The baby could litterally have the genes of a fish and the parents would think the sun shines out of its brand new soft baby bottom. Every parent thinks their child is the best looking thing since David Hasselhoff. And everything they do is interpreted as the greatest character trait known to man kind. If the baby cried while you ate a hot dog, it must be because that baby is going to grow up to rescue tortured animals and probably save humanity. And that first cry... That is the actual sound of angels singing Hallelujah. Every first time parent goes a little nuts with their baby on social media. That Spring Break Trip album may have 1,006 photos in it but that's nothing compared to the baby named album that documents every second of your newborn doing absolutely nothing naked 3,056 times. Meanwhile people that don't yet have babies are sitting around going