Okay. It's Settled

I don't remember my parents playing a whole lot of games with us when we were kids. There were always enough friends or siblings around to play games with, it seems.

There was, however, one day of the year when things would get shaken up a bit.

Every Thanksgiving, while Mom was fixing the food, Dad would set up the Monopoly board and we'd have a rip-roaring-go-for-the-jugular game to end all games.

It usually ended in tears.

Probably mine.

It always ended with all of us kids being ka-billions of dollars in debt to Dad. Why? Because we'd run out of money-because he'd have hotels on Park Place and Boardwalk- and he'd start giving us credit!! ha ha! But we could never pay him back. Ever. 

This is where I learned how to "play for blood". It might even be where I learned that phrase.

Ahhhh. The memories. It is quite amazing that I love Thanksgiving so much considering how traumatic the day was in my youth. I remember we'd sometimes beg Mom to play with us, but she would have NOTHING to do with what was going on. She kept herself safe in the kitchen.

Doug and I play games with our kids, a variety of games. We like to try to have a game night on Sunday if we can. We try to play family-friendly games. No blood involved.

Until now.

Now we play "Settlers of Catan". While we were at Snowbird we played just about every night.

Doug even went shopping in The City and bought the expansion pack for 5-6 players

AND the Knights and Cities addition AND that expansion pack.

Problematic? Possibly.

Especially when we stayed up SO LATE. Yes, that clock is saying one-forty-six in the AM. 

This is what I have learned:

* If the game is intense enough, I still play for blood

* I mustn't be like that

* I'm a firm believer that in order to overcome a weakness I need to face it head on and not avoid it hoping it will go away on its own.

* In order to overcome this insanely competitive nature of mine, I'm going to need to play this game often so that I can learn to control the beast in me. It really isn't cool to call your son names because he foiled your plans. 

So last Sunday evening, we decided to set up the game outside on our porch because it was so pleasant in the evening.

We started when it was still daylight.

And Abbie finally decided to try to play the game (if you can't beat 'em, join 'em).

And we made a pan of rice krispie treats and lit the citronella candle when the bugs came out. And by midnight it was down-right cold outside.

And Jake won this game, the sly dog, er, I mean, guy. 

And I kept my cool and complimented everyone on their wise moves, even when it totally messed me up. Now, does that count for anything? I mean, I was really ticked off sometimes, but I tried to be all nice and complimentary. Basically I was being sorta fake. But that's okay, right? It's part of my game-therapy: act nice even if it feels fake; and eventually I'll overcome these insane feelings of winning-at-all-costs.

Whew. This game therapy is hard work. But I'm determined to stick to it and get healed. So next Sunday night you might find us on our porch again.

I'll be in deep therapy.