Thanksgiving Chaos (The Good Kind)

There’s something about walking into my parents’ house on Thanksgiving morning and immediately getting handed an apron. Mom doesn’t ask if I want to help - she just assumes I will, and honestly, I love her for it.

Thanksgiving Chaos (The Good Kind)

This year she finally let me make tamales without hovering over my shoulder ready to take over the second I messed up the masa. Progress, people.

Roberto spent most of dinner telling the table about the time I snuck out in high school and came home with my dress on backward. IN FRONT OF MARCUS. Who, bless him, just laughed and said ‘that explains so much.’ Carmen spent equal time critiquing my wine selection (‘Really, Elena? Box wine?’) and Diego’s new girlfriend, who held her own beautifully. I like her already.

The controlled chaos I grew up with and never want my kids to live without

This table. These people. The noise. The chaos. The love. Abuela Rosa holding court at the head of the table, telling us all how we’re doing everything wrong but with enough warmth that we know she’s proud. Sophie trying to look grown up while Theo explains dinosaur migration patterns to anyone who will listen. I missed this. I’m never missing it again.

Also, my tamales were perfect and Mom only corrected me three times. Personal record.