My husband and I are competitive people.   Thanksgiving is no time to slack off on our principles.  (And by principles, I mean, proving that my mom’s Thanksgiving is way better than his mom’s.)

While most families will be sitting around a table, holding hands, saying grace and the things that they are grateful for, my husband will be noticing the rolls at my mom’s house are overcooked and I will be thinking snarky comments in my head about his mom’s untouched green liberal translation of an Ambrosia Salad.

Both of our families have Thanksgiving.  Now, it would make far too much sense to alternate years/holidays spent with each family so, instead, each holiday, my husband and I play control-freak-my-family-is-better-than-yours-tug-of-war.

We go to his family’s house and we go to mine.  Equal time for both.  While at his mom’s – I’m the clock watcher… making sure to allow for drive time for an equilateral balanced stay at my mom’s.  When we arrive at my mom’s house- his eyes fixate on the stop watch.

After 15 years, I’m confident that this is how it will go…

10:30- leave for his mom’s.  It’s about a half  an hour drive and he INSISTS on getting there early in his aim for fairness sake.

11:00- Mother in law’s head will start bubbling because we are there too early and food is not ready yet.   My husband will say how great the house looks and how good the food smells- to break the tension.  We will explain that we are there early to visit and ask if we can help (I will actually mean it- my husband will not.)  Help will be refused.  I will scour through Black Friday Ads.  My husband will complain that we have no money to shop.  Yet, on Christmas morning, he will expect a large deposit of junk from Santa under our tree!

11:30- My kids and husband will graze around the chips and dips and desserts.

12:00- My kids will have eaten 2 Supersized bags of Doritos and a pre-packaged box of sugar cookies with decorative icing of a turkey.  They will have no room for food with any nutritional content.  They will not be allowed to breathe near me because of their Dorito breath.  They will be rushed to the sink to try and scrub off the orange stain from their fingertips.  It will not come off.

12:30- We eat.

1:30- We will eat some more.

2:30- We will eat dessert.

3:00- My husband will start getting the ‘warning looks” from me. My eyes will scream, “start wrapping it up, big boy.”

3:30-I put on coats as my subtle last minute hint and say thank you as I head toward the door.  In a last stitch effort to extend his time, my husband will make a Chinet plate “to go” and loosely cover it with aluminum foil and it will stay in our car for the next 4 hours.  (Sidenote:  that night when he gets an upset stomach, something my mom cooked will be the culprit- not the bacteria breeding ground that was his leftover plate that sat in the car cultivating for 4 hours.)

4:00- we arrive at my mom’s for Round 2. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Unbutton the pants.

7:50- my husband:  “You about ready?”  That’s code for time’s up.

8:00-When we get home, while in our tryptophan and diabetic comas,  the next stage of the game begins… the competition segment…

Whose turkey was better? I say- they’re both good, but his mom does not make gravy.  (I know, right?) The first year I was at his parent’s house, I was like wha?  No starch thickened lard to pour over my entire plate?? Who are these people? So, I give the edge to my mom because, duh, she puts bacon grease in the gravy.  And he gives the points to his mom, he’s a purist.  My mom-1    His mom -1

Stuffing-  His mom does ‘real’ dressing… stuffing the turkey cavity with bread crumbs- they have a good flavor, but she uses too many onions (I fake an onion allergy in restaurants because I hate them that much.)  My mom gets my vote with a box of Stove Top Stuffing. And, surprise, his mom gets his vote.

My mom-2   His mom- 2

Mashed potatoes -  My mom has lumpy goodness and gets both votes on the scorecard  (not to mention-hello… GRAVY! )  My mom- 4  His mom – 2

Green bean casserole- This is a recent addition to the line-up for my mom, at my request.  My mom doesn’t like them and thus makes them like crap- not adding enough pepper!  His mom knocks it out of the park in this category.

My mom- 4    His mom – 4

Due to the tie, I will make an executive decision that the winner of the night will be… my step dad…who will greet me at the door with a bottomless glass of wine.