My Thanksgiving growing up was fairly typical except for spending every other holiday with my different parents. I lived with my father, so although turkey day at the Armstrongs was good, my mother went all out when it was her turn to have us. Not so much with the meal itself, but the deserts. Homemade cakes and pies were given and delicious. She did everything from scratch whereas my stepmother, God rest her soul, did mostly box and can dishes.