Cheatsgiving: How To Survive Thanksgiving When Your Parents Treat You Like A Baby

 I am in my mid-30’s””a college-educated, responsible job-having, bill-paying, full-fledged adult. But you wouldn’t know it by the way my parents treat me. My parents (ie, my father and stepmother, who raised me) are in their early 60’s, so comparatively young. They still live in the house I grew up in, they both still work full time, travel a lot, go to the gym, have big dogs, etc. They’re pretty much George and Lorraine McFly at the end of Back to The Future. They also have another daughter, my sister””who is college-aged. Add all of that to the fact that I am a one-bedroom-apartment-renting single mother of a three year old””their only grandchild””and it equals them basically treating me like I am also still in college. Every Sunday I go to their house for dinner, and every other Sunday, my dad asks me if I need gas money, and then slips me $40. Up until I had my son three years ago, they were still giving me an Easter Basket every year. So in my estimation, it will be at least another 15 years before they are ready to pass the holiday meal hosting torch to me.

Believe me, I am not complaining””my parents are nothing short of awesome, and I know I am very lucky to have supportive family nearby. But I love to cook and I’m pretty damn good at it, too (I’m a culinary school drop-out) and every year, I actually beg to be allowed to bring or make something for Thanksgiving . For most of my 20’s, I was instructed to buy rolls. (”Just go the A&P! Don’t get all fancy!”) Eventually, I graduated to salad duty. And lo and behold, this year, I was asked to bring a green vegetable! So, Cheatsgiving, shmeatsgiving. I am making a fancy-ass squash casserole for Thanksgiving, and I am SO EXCITED.

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