Holy First Holiday, Batman

Our first holiday as a married couple showed up faster than we expected—and of course, it was Thanksgiving. If any holiday feels like a roller coaster, it’s that one.

Ginger's had her perfect life... and out of nowhere came Fox.

Cory and I had a heartfelt conversation about what the holidays mean to each of us individually and what we plan for it to be in the future. I had a very positive experience with the holidays, whereas Cory had a different experience and truly wanted to take a breather from the obligations that come with the holidays.

That conversation gave me an in-depth understanding of his hesitation. It isn’t easy to listen to someone you love and hear that the holiday season is received by him so differently. The hesitation and distance were disheartening to learn about. But in that moment, we also found resolve: together, we could reshape what the holidays would mean moving forward.

For me, Thanksgiving has always been loud, full, and overflowing with the kind of love that thrives in the chaos. My girls, my family, and my friends all gathered—talking over one another, laughing, disagreeing, and sharing meals made from scratch. Two turkeys, endless sides, and cheesecake stacked high. It’s the kind of day that feels like home, every single year.

The girls with a close friend's Kiddo enjoying life before food!

Cory stayed at our place with Fox, the new pup he’d just picked up from Canada through the Special Operations Wounded Warriors K9 program. Fox was trained, confident, and still clumsy—full of big energy he didn’t quite know how to handle. He thought he was hot stuff, but Ginger wasn’t buying it. She set the rules quickly: no sofa, no bed, and definitely no free passes. (How we got Fox is a story for another day.)

Even from across town, chilling on the sofa with football on, Cory was part of the day—steady and present in his own way. He texted me reminders to enjoy the chaos I loved. And when dinner wrapped, Robert didn’t ask—he told me, “Make Cory a plate.” That small moment held so much weight. Carrying that food back to him felt like walking a bridge between my old world and the new one Cory and I were building.

Back home, we shared that plate—our first Thanksgiving as husband and wife. We laughed, swapped stories, and watched Ginger and Fox negotiate their uneasy truce. Awkward, messy, a little hilarious—but it was ours.

The week didn’t end with turkey. We took a day trip to Chattanooga because I wanted to prove to Cory that Tennessee had mountains—not Washington mountains, but mountains nonetheless. Somewhere between hiking and laughing, we nearly missed our Ruby Falls tickets because we stopped to wander through an open house on a whim. Standing in someone else’s kitchen, imagining “what ifs,” I realized it wasn’t about the house—it was about us, already dreaming forward.

Open door policy? Roger that, mom.

That first holiday wrapped every thread together: the comfort of the family chaos I’ve always cherished, the steadiness Cory brings to balance it, two dogs figuring out their place in our pack, and the quiet reminder that the past doesn’t define us. Thanksgiving gave us more than a table full of food—it gave us the proof that we could carry old traditions into a new life, and build something entirely our own.