We’ve all been there. You’re the only sane one at the table, there are no accessible exits, and you are trapped until your plate is cleaned. Stress, anxiety, and of course a horrifying story about you that required years of therapy that is now told as an anecdote for all table members to enjoy.
So why do I insist on hosting family dinner?
Because sometimes they work. Sometimes, I finish dinner and am no longer convinced that my adoption papers are hidden somewhere in my parents room. I'm convinced that these people are my family, and in some crazy way, they love and understand me more than anyone else.
My husband, Michael, grew up with family dinners at Red Lobster. I think he lucked out since public places don’t make for great scenes. To celebrate the first of 52 parties this year, I have decided to revamp the family dinner. Attending will be the second parents Michael and I adopted last year, Michael's brother from another mother and his wife, and finally the little brother I never had, (who happens to be more than a decade older than me). We will meet over the weekend for my version of the Red Lobster meal. I promise it will satisfy the seafood lover in all of us!