A young bride would lovingly roast a turkey for her family during the holidays. After basting every twenty minutes for the better part of a day, it would then be carefully carved and arranged on a platter with fresh herbs.
Not I.
#1: I am not a young bride anymore. I think a decade of marriage disqualifies me.
#2: This is Minnesota in winter. What are fresh herbs again?
#3: I have a freakish attraction to crispy turkey skin. I have to hold myself back from picking all the crispy, buttery skin off the turkey before it makes it to the table.
#4: I'm terrible at carving meat. Probably because I'm too busy inhaling the skin.
Traditionally, a young bride would spend hours peeling, dicing, boiling, and mashing potatoes by hand.
Not I.
While there's no way around the peeling and boiling, I come to my own aid with a hand held mixer.
And then I must -- I must -- take a dollop (just one) with my finger, as if the mashed potatoes were cookie dough.
Then I smooth them back over with a spoon so no one will know.
Traditionally, children sat at a small table during a holiday meal and minded the manners their mother so carefully instilled in them.
Not I. The children's table here is covered with markers, pipe cleaner, ribbon, and socks to make sock puppets.
*NOTE*: Socks were not handknit.
You can resume normal breathing now.
Traditionally, children would be nestled all snug in their beds at the end of the day.
In my family, little ones fall asleep on their mama's shoulders.
Then they're carefully coccooned in their snowsuits and carried to the car that has been warming for ten minutes, courtesy of a remote starter.
I like my traditions, even though they ain't fancy.
Do you have any traditions that others might find strange, but that you love nonetheless?
Don't leave me hanging here. It would violate tradition. 