…even when you’re the blind leading the blind.

Here’s what I’ve learned about Thanksgiving: you don’t need to be a seasoned host to somehow end up giving holiday advice you’re not exactly qualified to give.
My hosting experience is… limited. But my sister and I? We have truly perfected the blind leading the blind approach.

This year she called and asked, “When am I supposed to start defrosting the turkey?”
And without thinking, my immediate first response was:

“Did you call Mom?”

But of course — of course — this was the one day our mom wasn’t answering her phone.
So now we’re both sitting there, no clue between us, trying to figure out the one thing you absolutely cannot mess up.

And all I could say was:

“Okay, who actually knows the right answer so we don’t make the ultimate Thanksgiving mistake?”

Because we may not know turkey timelines — but we do know salmonella is not happening on our watch.

And honestly, that whole conversation made me realize something:
there are a few parts of hosting Thanksgiving no one really talks about… until you’re in the middle of them.

So here we go.

It doesn’t matter who’s hosting — the kitchen becomes the unofficial therapy room of Thanksgiving.
And I swear, the second you start cooking, the floodgates open.

You’ve got sweat literally dripping down your face, you’re trying to keep the timer straight, and suddenly people are tip-toeing in one by one like it’s their scheduled appointment:

You can tell yourself, “It’s fine, it’s casual, we’re keeping it simple this year,” but the second that oven turns on?
Game over.

Suddenly you’re questioning everything:

• Is the house clean enough?
• Should the napkins match the plates?
• Why does the turkey look… like that?
• Is the timing going to work, or are we about to serve sides at 1pm and turkey at 6pm?

And then, just to add a little extra flair, you’ve got my mom —
the queen of “we don’t need that many appetizers” —
standing there giving the sweet little side-eye and silently thinking about how she would’ve done it.
Not in a mean way… just in that classic, mom way where you know she’s mentally reorganizing your entire menu.

And the truth?
Half the pressure isn’t even from anyone else — it’s from you.
You want people to feel comfortable.
You want things to taste good.
You want everyone to walk in and think, “Wow, they really have their life together.”

Meanwhile you’re quietly spiraling over mashed potatoes like it’s the finale of Top Chef.

In some families, people quietly step away for a peaceful reset.
Not mine.

In my family, the Thanksgiving “step away moment” is a full dramatic storm-out, followed by everyone suddenly remembering how to behave.

It’s usually triggered by questions like:

There is always a hiccup on Thanksgiving — always — and my family is no exception.

Sometimes it’s the food:

• Someone forgets to take out the dish they brought, so it’s still sitting in the fridge like a sad surprise.
• The rolls go from “almost ready” to “charcoal” in six minutes.
• The turkey looks fine on the outside but we’re all whispering, “Is it actually cooked?”

Sometimes it’s the timing:

• One thing’s hot, the other is stone cold.
• Everything’s ready except the one dish everyone cares about.
• Someone swears they preheated the oven… they did not.

And then there are the other moments —
you know the ones —
where a comment is made, a look is exchanged, or someone gasps dramatically because it didn’t go “according to the plan.”

But honestly?
No one’s ever shocked when something goes wrong.
It’s expected at this point.
And somehow we always adjust and keep going.

Because if there’s one thing about Thanksgiving with family, it’s this:
the little mess-ups always become the stories everyone remembers.

For all the chaos, the questions, the noise, and the turkey stress… there’s always a moment where the whole thing suddenly feels worth it.

And in my family, it’s usually something simple and unintentionally hilarious, like:

• my dad awkwardly volunteering my husband to say the prayer
• someone asking for the fifth time why my kids won’t eat anything on the table
• or everyone going around saying what they’re grateful for (half sincere, half chaotic)

Those are the tiny moments where Thanksgiving becomes my favorite holiday all over again.

Thanksgiving is allowed to be pure chaos.
It’s supposed to be loud and messy and a little unhinged.
It’s about gathering with the people who drive you bananas but who you wouldn’t trade for anything.

No presents.
No fluff.
Just food and family.

And in my opinion?
It truly can’t be beat.

At the end of the day, Thanksgiving isn’t about getting every detail right — it’s about showing up for each other in all our perfectly imperfect ways. It’s loud, unpredictable, emotional, and half the time someone is hiding in a back bedroom with a glass of wine… but that’s what makes it ours. And somehow, every year, the chaos settles just long enough for us to look around the table and feel grateful for the people who make life what it is — messy, funny, dramatic, and good.

Stay tuned — I’m sure this year’s holiday will bring its own brand of chaos, and I’ll be right here to recap it.