Bayou Kids | Relish Every Day, Every Holiday with Those You Love

article by Cindy G. Foust

November, November, where art thou? Just kidding…it’s right in front of us as we live and breathe. It’s also the month that’s home to all the things I love: wonderful family gatherings, delicious food and all things pumpkin. Yes, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday (although Christmas does run a close second.)  I know last year was the first for my family without Daddy and just like me, Big Daddy loved having all the chicks in the nest for the best of times and the best of food. Oh,  and a good game of dominoes or card game. Wonder where I get it from? 

I love when my family walks in my house and the smells they are greeted with make them feel warm and loved. Hallmark, right? I don’t mind, readers, if you make fun of me…won’t be the last time I’m sure, but it’s just a gift to be able to host family and friends in my home and prepare a meal that is memorable. Okay, if you ask some of those closest to me, most of our meals (me and Scott are a pretty good team…and then we have raised Bobby Flay aka Robert Scott) are memorable. I might be sounding a little braggadocio (thank you, Bitsy) but I don’t care, because as I have written for years, cooking is my hobby. I study it constantly and I always want to do something a little more extraordinary than I did the last time. 

Barefoot Contessa? I think I have a new name… and I’m going to talk to Cassie about this because I just thought of it, but, I should be the Bayou Contessa. Now what exactly I will do with that I’m not sure, but you can bet it will revolve around cooking, or food, or both. Maybe I will do surprise visits to area restaurants and see if they will let me cook with them. I’m in a rabbit hole. SOS. Someone please throw me a rope. I don’t even know where I was or if I had even started. 

You know, if you read my column with any consistency, the last few months have been rather…well…sentimental. Writing about my dad, losing my dad and then my breast cancer journey, it’s left me in a melancholy state of mind. To which, I don’t want to be in my feels this month’s column, rather, I would just like to write about my favorite holiday and talk about the best sweet potato casserole in the world (and that’s a big place) that I make every year. Except, I feel like I have done that in the nearly 12 years that I have been writing this column. Is anyone out there aware that I have been writing that long? I never mention it so I’m thinking that might have slipped past most of you. At any rate, writing about my sweet potato casserole, when compared to the Chrysler Building columns (my dad, he was in fact, my Chrysler Building) might be considered lackluster. I sort of wanted to write about the mink-coat-gate that my family experienced one Thanksgiving, but that’s really just part of my family’s folklore so I’ll just leave it there. It would, however, be a comical read for my friends. No, I think what I will do, as I sit in my big comfy chair on this crisp, fall afternoon, is head right back into my feelings and share a vulnerable Thanksgiving memory. Because for me, the consummate holiday gal, the one who chokes everyone in her family with traditions and writes a monthly column imploring families to do the same, just finally gets it. Yes, at 58-years old, I finally get that what truly makes a holiday special, what gives it the grade of an A+++, what carves it into the memory portfolio of all that attend, is just that…it’s about sharing it with the people you love. 

Some of us spend a lot of time looking in the rear-view mirror, so to speak. Anyone out there guilty of such? I know I am, and it just takes a holiday to stop me in my tracks and the next thing you know I am looking through old pictures, photo albums and wishing I could order out of the Sears Wish Book. Who’s with me? 

The common denominator in all that “reflect-hood” is the family that I spent those holidays with,  that were rich with tradition. I wish I could time warp back to about 1982 and have some of the people who I have loved the most, sitting around my grandmother’s table. The rest of us would be scattered throughout her house or on the swing out back. It would likely be 89 degrees and the ceiling fans would be going, but those moments in time are embedded deep in my memory window, the rearview one. If it’s Halloween, I’m dressed as Dolly Parton with my sisters and little brother, riding in the back of Daddy’s truck full of hay, headed to family and friends for treats…and love. If it’s Thanksgiving, I am gathered with my family at my grandparent’s house and there’s enough food (including dumplings) to choke a mule. And the pecan pie? Homemade of course…with love.  If it’s Christmas, Uncle Bobby has us all in his truck headed to the firework stand to spend, well, I don’t know how much he spends because it would be easier to penetrate the White House then get him to fess up. It’s his Christmas gift to us, after all. Oh, and because? Yes, because he loves us. Alternatively, if I could time warp back to 2001, my Samuel would be running through the house chasing his brother while I cooked. My heart aches for that. 

There’s lots of common denominators in my trip down holiday memory lane, but the richest, the most valuable and the one I will spend the rest of my life being grateful for, is the love I felt, from the family I have the privilege of being part of. In this season of Thanksgiving, let us be reminded of how precious our memories are and be intentional in making them. Our children, just like we did, enjoy and crave the holiday traditions we create. Some of the traditions in my family are years old (we have been popping fireworks on Christmas Eve since I was two years old) and some have been created in more recent years. Don’t diminish the weight of them in the hearts of your children and pull your family in tight each and every holiday season. I know as Daddy got older, the times we spent together, whether is was a holiday or not, was what he looked forward to the most. Pull them in and love hard and happy. It’s cliché to say we aren’t guaranteed tomorrow, but readers it’s true, so make the most of every opportunity you have to enjoy and relish every day, every holiday, with the ones you love.

Cindy G. Foust is a wife, mom, author and blogger. You can find her blog at the alphabetmom.com for weekly columns about home life,  parenting, small business stories and insight with a smidgen of literacy. Give her a like or follow on Facebook and Instagram.