That's what you are eating for Thanksgiving dinner?

When I was a kid, I grew up eating that traditional Thanksgiving meal of turkey, stuffing and every root vegetable boiled or mashed to the point of having no nutritional value.  If I didn't like the taste after I tried it, I either used a dollop of butter or a stream of gravy to disguise the taste.  But I ate it as did every kid back then...you ate what was put in front of you or you didn't eat.

Today my Thanksgiving is different.  My mother is the constant host and (as one of my many thanks) has graduated from boiling and mashing every root vegetable to death.  Along with the turkey and fancy stuffing, there are brussels (much to Ching's chagrin) and salad, lightly dressed.  Potatoes are still there along with the boiled onions and squash.  So as I say yay at the spread, I look over at  the mini Wangs at the kids table and this is what I see:

Laurel has a minuscule amount of turkey with a big mound of ketchup, a mountain of cranberry sauce (I am waiting for her to slip and call it Jello) and a buttered roll (which will be the first of three.)

Rachel has a minuscule amount of turkey, her cranberry "jello" and a buttered roll.

That's what you are eating for Thanksgiving dinner?

Selfishly, I am not worried about their nutritional intake.  I am actually self conscious of my elders watching my parental ability.  These are the same elders that kept me at the dinner table eating a mound of baked beans until I was done. (Probably only four bites but as a young kid, it was a mound.)  The same ones that served me a frozen apple juice pop as the only sweet that was allowed.  Elders eating organic before it was trendy.  And now here I am letting my girls fill up on cheese and crackers prior to dinner and now at dinner, they are eating ketchup, cranberry jello and rolls.  (Another thanks--Laurel is still really tall and Rachel has powerful thighs--these girls look like they eat just fine on most days.)

I hope they realize my limitations.  I look over at Ching Wang as he is rolling his brussels around his plate like they are going to disappear.

Ma'am, your seat is in the back...

I have become a second class citizen in my own home.  When the hell
did that happen?  On any given workday, I get up first to make the
girls' lunches, shower, then dress in the dark so no one is disturbed.
(Actually, most days I wear trouser socks and I am glad no one can see
me socks, sans pants.  Trouser socks have got to be one of the most
unsexy items of clothing.  They would make a runway model look like a
hag..anyway..)  I,then, skulk around the house like a God damned burgler 
trying to be as quiet as possible until the rest of the family is up. 
Once Laurel and Rachel are up, I do the majority of getting them ready.

In the evening, I eat last regardless if the meal is takeout that Ching
has picked up, or a meal that I have prepared.  This happens because
Rachel who is 16 months tends to get fussy at dinnertime.  One
of us will take her and the other will eat.  After Ching has eaten, I
will eat.  While my diatribe sounds like I am becoming a martyr, it
was never my intention.  It just happened.

Growing up I would watch my mother eat last, take the chipped plate or
give up the last "anything" because we were one short and that is what
she did.  She will still take this role when there is a large family dinner.
The phrase "my fork is in" is commonly used.  In my family, you wait
until your hostess is seated with their fork in their meal prior to
starting your own meal.  (After 12 years, Ching still needs to be
reminded of this...)  But my mom says "my fork is in"
just to get people started regardless is she is actually seated
(never) or grabbing something out of the kitchen (always).

Visions of Alice from the Brady Bunch come to mind.  Those road trip 
episodes when the whole gang was in the station wagon and poor Alice
was stuck in the back..well, at least I can say I am not sitting in the back...
I absolutely draw the line at that..