I Married Into a Family With Psychotic (in a good way) Thanksgiving Traditions

When it comes to Thanksgiving, my wife’s family is pretty much psychotic.

While I now have many years of experience and I know how it goes, it’s still kind of a beating.

It starts on Wednesday, with the opening party at my in-laws.

In the past this used to be a rather rowdy affair, but now we’re older and have our own kids. It’s tamer, but still a strong opening statement.

Then early on cold Ohio Thanksgiving mornings, we get up and run the Turkey Trot.

Let me provide some additional context on the Turkey Trot.

It’s a five-mile race. Early. In the dark. In the cold. And you run around a waste processing plant that smells like decaying skunk.

I am not even kidding about that.

Oh yeah, my wife would also make us dress up. Like elves, turkeys, gingerbread cookies, pumpkin pies, and everything else holiday-themed in between.

Of all the holiday traditions, I had to marry into this one?

After the run, we get to enjoy a glorious dinner with family.

The next day the men and women split up.

The women go shopping and champagne drinking and not necessarily in that order.

The men would go shoot guns and drink whiskey necessarily in that order.

On Saturday, the state of Ohio takes a knee for the Ohio State-Michigan game. I didn’t go to either of these schools, but my wife is a Buckeye…so there’s that.

Either way, her cousin hosts a shindig to cheer on the Bucks and depending on the game it can get a bit raucous.

A beating. But with family, so it’s the best kind.

Last year my wife went into labor as we finished Thanksgiving dinner and a new tradition was born.

My second son, our Thanksgiving baby. The best reason to be thankful of all.

Happy Turkey Day.

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