Encompassing the IBS front, were there any major incidents over the Thanksgiving holiday? When the goal is to purposely overindulge, there is bound to be a problem or two. We have one more festive overindulgent holiday for the year, and then it is time to get it together and map out some resolutions that generally get discarded around month two. But for now, a recap on Italian Thanksgiving.
A simple gathering is ideal for me: few people, good food, and no turkey. I could go for the rest of forever without turkey and be one happy woman. It is the best feeling when you show up to Thanksgiving and there is a ham option. Heck, I don’t need it to be an option. Just make it the main course.
Italian Thanksgiving for the win!
My mother-in-law is Italian, so there is always an Italian dish to go alongside the main meat. This year, with the ham, we had manicotti. Oh, that woman speaks my love language. She had the traditional cranberry sauce and vegetables, brussel sprouts, to be exact. But I love that she doesn’t feel the need to make it a traditional Thanksgiving meal.
The mother-in-law takes the holiday and makes it her own. I feel like that is what it should be. Your own spin on the meal. The main objective is to gather and give thanks. We do just that with an even better meal.
One cookie too many
Speaking of the mother-in-law, she makes all the desserts. Little apple pies, pumpkin pies, biscotti, and the best ever – I don’t know exactly what they were – molasses ginger cookies with sugar sprinkles on top. I might have overdone it on the consumption of those cookies.
The saying around here is, it was good until it went bad. That was me and the cookies. I ate my fair share of them. Well, I don’t want to play favorites. I ate my fair share of all of it. The meal and the desserts, those cookies included.
We sat and chatted and the gas brewed in my guts. Turning and churning. We were outside sitting on the patio as the weather was perfect so I was able to let some of the gas escape without notice.
Once we got in the truck to head home, freedom. I let the gas flow. So did Ryan. That truck is probably ruined.
I wasn’t in any real pain. Not from gas or bloating. Basically, one could say it was going pretty well.
Until the morning. Always. My dues are paid in the morning. The explosion. Too many sweets. The blame always lies with the sweets. I don’t know if that is fair or not, it is just what I do. It has to be the root of the problem as I do not always eat a lot of sweets, and if I do it is not generally in that large of an amount, hence the blame on the sweets. Someone has to take the blame.
Sweets and IBS don’t play well together
It is one of those instances where you know better but just keep on keeping on. One cookie after another. I am just thankful that I did not have an “emergency situation” like that walk around the in-law’s neighborhood a few months back.
So overall, a quiet Thanksgiving, an Italian Thanksgiving. A blowout in the comforts of my own home, one could say that is the usual morning routine. Not bad, I will take it.
Did it go well for you all?
Any “emergency situations”?
