Method
- Preheat oven to realistic expectations. Something between 350F and "God please just let this day go smoothly"
- Mix together: Emotional resilience, unmedicated ADHD, and that belief that "This year will be easier". Stir until the universe laughs.
- Add Pumpkin purée. Because nostalgia tastes like every Thanksgiving you thought you’d have before reality showed up in sweatpants.
- Pour batter into pie shell. Just like you poured your heart into raising children who treat you like a 24-hour Uber.
- Bake for 50 minutes or until an ex-husband rings your doorbell and says, "I'm. coming over. Our son said I could." (Spoiler: he didn't)
- Remove from oven. Realize you forgot the sugar. Decide this is a metaphor for your entire life.
- Serve. Watch your son pretend it's edible. Watch your ex smile poliety. Watch yourself say, "Eh, we'll cover it all with whipped cream"
Notes
Chef's Notes: The pie will be bland. The dinner will be awkward. The memories will be ridiculous. The mother? A materpiece.
Optional Garnishes: A thanksgiving argument about custody,a daughter who suddenly has time for grandpa but never for mom (Spoiler, she is 18 and said she doesn't want to speak to me again because I am poor, this isn't a scripted tiktok video, this is real life) and a purchase request diguised as "Family bonding"
Served cold. Like Karma.