Back in the '80s, my mom was famous
for always getting her way.
She bulldozed everyone,
teachers, store employees, even her own friends.
But my mom's arm-twisting was about to get tested
when those friends became family.
Erica!
I need to get a head count for Thanksgiving dinner.
Is your mother around?
26 1/2 pounds
is a lot heavier than you think.
- Oof. - Where do you buy a bird that big?
Oh, I've had this gobbler since he was a chick.
I'd hand-feed him peanut butter, corn,
and pasta carbonara every day
until my relentless forced-gorging did what it do.
"My name was Popcorn."
That's so dark.
The dark meat is the juiciest.
Sorry to interrupt your pet's murder,
but I thought I was hosting Thanksgiving this year.
Well, that doesn't sound right, so it isn't.
And I'm already three hours into
a 15-hour seasoning process.
So? I made little menus with a calligraphy pen.
She calls yams "yums."
That was actually my contribution.
That's not the brag you think it is.
And, Mom, Linda clearly thought
she was doing Thanksgiving this year.
She can still be a part of the festivities.
I need help with the bird.
You will be scooping out Popcorn's giblets.
Giblets are not as cute as the name implies.
Just a butt full of guts.
I suggest putting down a beach towel,
'cause this juicy Johnny's
gonna leak something fierce.
Okay. Thank you.
Mom, you can't just steal Thanksgiving.
It's Linda's turn.
Oh, Linda.
You know, I just hate seeing your pruney little face
more wrinkled and sad than usual,
so what about this?
You can have your own holiday.
The hell does that mean?
It means we'll all get together
and have a thing at Linda's house.
- A "thing"? Yeah.
We'll call it Linda Day.
Ooh, Linda Day. That sounds fun.
Maybe it'll be a completely random gathering,
at your house, at your expense,
anytime within the next six to nine months.
What are we celebrating?
I don't know, Linda. It's your day.
The least you can do is figure out why we should care.
Also, heads up, I can't make it.
We didn't even settle on a date.
I'm worried about feeding 20 people right now.
Perhaps you'd know what that's like
if you'd ever planned a Thanksgiving.
So, come on. Go.
- Ahh! I-It's heavy! - I'll help you, Mama.
Giblet juice!
Oh, it's dripping in my moccasins.
Tilt that hole up!
♪ I'm twisted up inside
♪ But nonetheless I feel the need to say
♪ I don't know the future
♪ But the past keeps getting clearer every day ♪
It was Thanksgiving week,
1980-something, and Pop-Pop dropped by our house early
with a surprising plus-one.
I'm sorry, ma'am.
You must have found him
wandering aimlessly in the street.
We'll take it from here.
Your blood sugar must be tanking, Pop-Pop.
You're at your son's house!
The war is long over!
This is not some random lady.
This is my special friend, Joyce.
It's so nice to meet you both.
Hold on.
There's something wrong with your face, Pop-Pop.
Why is your frown curling upward?
Your eyes don't have their characteristic hollowness,
and they're blue? You have blue eyes?
What color did you think they were?
I know this isn't a color, but "angry"?
These boys are hilarious.
You're blessed with a fun-loving family.
Yes, it's true. I have a wonderful brood,
in whom I have absolutely no gripes.
What's happening right now?
Is today Opposite Day?
Is that why the mailman was a lady in shorts?
I think he's dating her.
So, Joyce, why don't you come in
and tell us how Pop-Pop tricked you,
trapped you, met you?
I had just moved in a few doors down,
and they delivered Ben's TV Guide to me by mistake,
and so I just knocked on his door.
And you took one look at him
and said, "More, please"?
Walk us through your flawed thinking.
Okay, you scamps. Cool it.
I just popped over to pick up my tennis racket I left here.
I have to retrieve it.
What, to shake at the neighborhood kids
as they joyfully ride their bikes by?
No, to play tennis. Joyce and I are gonna knock a few around.
What's so funny?
This guy?
Tennis? This guy?
I'll just get my ball-whacker so we can go.
Oh.
My, uh, firstborn son,
in whom I have great pride.
Come, meet my new lady friend.
New lady friend?
You don't have any friends
or ladies or anything new,
but what the heck. Hi!
It's such a joy
to meet Ben's beautiful family.
I'll go - pull the car around. - Right.
Pop-Pop, what is a gentle and kind lady
doing with, you know, this?
She enjoys my sparkling personality
and thinks I'm a family man.
So you lied to her?
Big time.
I got a good reason. I love her shape.
She's gonna see right through you when you try and play tennis today.
I'm way ahead of you on that one.
I'm gonna twist my ankle before
and then we're gonna go make out in her Buick.
Why?
Old people don't deserve happiness.
All right, I haven't been exactly forthright with her,
but we're happy. Now, come on. I need this.
Well, it doesn't concern me,
so...
Great, because I'm gonna bring her to Thanksgiving,
and I need you guys to keep up the ruse.
While Pop-Pop was trying to get us not to spill the beans,
my sister was trying to mop up my mom's mess.
Well, I got rid of the Thanksgiving cornucopia
that I grew in my garden.
Just like the trampoline that you kids never use.
- Think your mom's upset? - Yeah, such a waste.
But one scary bounce on that bad boy and I was like, "Not for moi."
Not the trampoline.
The fact that my mom stole Thanksgiving from your mom
and she just let it happen.
Just letting it happen
is my family's way of dealing with your mother
and your whole family, to be honest.
That ends now.
Linda, we're taking back Thanksgiving.
Oh, no, thank you.
I like that it was stolen from me last-minute.
Keeps me on my toes,
and my doctor says I need to stand more.
Doesn't it bother you that my mom
bulldozes her way to whatever she wants?
Well, there is one worry.
She will keep us from spending time with you
and, eventually, our grandkids.
She totally will.
And not just holidays, every day.
You may never see them.
Do you remember when she borrowed your hand mixer?
Oh, no. I can't have pancakes or grandchildren?
Yeah, you're overreacting, but there is a way.
See, Beverly Goldberg
only respects power and confidence.
I only have one of those. I mean none.
Nothing's ever gonna change
until you face her and don't back down.
- I don't know. - I do.
You are strong, you are powerful,
and you deserve what's yours.
Now, go take back your damn holiday.
I can, and I will.
I'm sorry!
Apology not accepted!
You want to take Thanksgiving from Linda, fine.
But just know that if you go through with this,
you won't be celebrating it with me.
Excuse me?
You heard me.
I will be celebrating at the Schwartzes',
and you will enjoy a lonely Thanksgiving
without your original schmoopy-poo.
- You wouldn't. - Try me.
It was a standoff, but my sister knew
my mom would never risk a Schmoo-less Thanksgiving.
- Fine! - Yes!
And since you won't be needing it, Beverly,
I'll be taking that turkey.
So be it.
Here you go.
You have to let it go.
You're right. Here you go.
As Erica tried to wrestle Thanksgiving back from my mom,
Barry and I were pinning down a plan of our own.
Dad, - we got a question. Not now.
There's a guy who kind of looks like Pat Sajak
on America's Most Wanted.
We were thinking, if Pop-Pop insists on us
helping him mislead Joyce into thinking he's a nice guy,
we should get something out of it.
Like a lifetime of love and respect?
More like 20 bucks.
So you're gonna extort your grandfather?
Fine. Just leave me out of it.
We've come to visit and whatnot.
There's where we get all our wisdom!
Hey!
We missed you, cherished grandpappy.
Look how much they love you.
Yeah, that was nice.
And embracing me, that was... welcome.
Physical affection comes naturally to him.
Speaking of his generosity,
Pop-Pop, are we gonna play the gobble-gobble game?
The gobble-gobble game?
You know, our Thanksgiving tradition
of handing us your wallet
and letting us gobble up any money we find inside.
That is so sweet.
Is it? Is it?
Now, gobble-gobble, old man.
Sure. Sure. Here, gobble-gobble.
Four bucks? Aren't you an adult?
I don't like carrying cash.
There's greasers and doo-woppers in my neighborhood.
We're gonna inherit nothing.
Murray, what about you?
Do you have any Thanksgiving traditions with your dad?
Well, let me think.
Uh... no.
I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?
No, no, no. Everything is peachy.
That's Murray's dry sense of humor.
He's-- He's my funny boy.
Whatever this is, I hate it.
We have a lot of - Thanksgiving traditions. - Oh, yeah?
We watch the football game together.
You mean you made me go in my room
and listen to it on the radio.
So we could compare experiences after.
And after the game, you'd go for your cigar walk.
Well, sure.
I couldn't smoke around Prince Murray and his asthma.
Another possibility? You're a liar.
And you were an annoying kid.
And there it is,
anger, yelling, and pettiness,
your real Thanksgiving tradition.
You know what? I-I think I should go.
No, wait, Joyce. No, no.
We're just having fun here.
Yeah, but I'm not.
How could you mess this up for me?
You had years to play the loving dad.
You messed that up all on your own.
It's probably for the best.
Joyce's eyes were, like, all over me.
While Pop-Pop's lie was exposed,
my mom was hoping a covered dish
would keep her in the Thanksgiving spotlight.
- Hello, Bev. - Linda.
I thought I would drop off
my triple-cheese shrimp au gratin
so there's something decent to eat.
Just bring it in the kitchen!
Erica?
The hell's this?
I'm helping Linda with Thanksgiving prep.
Creamy sweet peas, Lou's favorite.
Oh, are those matching aprons?
Two peas in a pod.
While she may not have been cooking Thanksgiving dinner,
watching Erica and Linda bond in the kitchen...
I have to go.
...made my mom boil over.
But thankfully, there was someone to dish to.
I come bearing a seasonal candle, neighbor.
I've been cheated on!
Exodus 20:14, no!
I'd never think that Murray would have the energy,
let alone the desire.
And what woman would debase hers--
It's Linda Schwartz!
I always got a skank vibe off of her.
Murray didn't cheat on me with Linda.
Erica did.
Torrents of confusion.
Please explain.
The very fruit of my lush giving tree
is out gallivanting with another mother.
Wait, your daughter is hanging out
with her soon-to-be mother-in-law,
and that's bad because...
Because it is a disgusting display of child infidelity.
I don't think child infidelity is a real thing.
It's real.
Maybe my Thanksgivings just aren't what they used to be.
Cheesy shrimp au gratin. Bleh!
That's not gonna keep her coming home to Mama.
Fudge and crackers!
Thanksgiving's at the Schwartzes'?
My candle was an attempt to snag an invite
to your Turkey Day.
Why can't there be two Thanksgivings?
Wait a minute.
Clear out your Wednesday.
You're invited to a nosh.
Hot damn! The candle worked.
It's perfect.
After my dad had blown Pop-Pop's cover with Joyce,
he was back to his sad bachelor ways.
I told you girls already,
I don't want anything from Samoa,
especially a cookie.
Pop-Pop, open up!
It's us.
We feel really bad about any part we had
in your break-up with Joyce.
I was alone for decades before Joyce.
I'll be alone for decades after.
Don't say that.
There are other women out there.
Not like Joyce. She was perfect.
Nice figure, she didn't think she was better than me,
and she lived within a 50-foot radius.
Why don't you try and win her back?
Win her back? She's not an object.
She's a smoking-hot broad
with a caboose that never stops chugging.
- Caboose? - Oh, ignoring that.
We'll help you.
Barry and I have a rich history
of grand, romantic gestures.
Guess it couldn't make it any worse.
That's almost the spirit.
You know what?
Let's start with a clothing makeover.
What's the matter - with these? - They're hideous!
Time to raid your closet.
Unfortunately, Pop-Pop's closet wasn't a treasure trove.
I didn't even know they made so many browns.
Technically, uh, the one on the end is russet,
and, uh, that guy is Yukon gold,
and the fancy one is yam.
They're all named after potatoes,
the least sexy vegetable?
Everyone likes a potato.
It's a versatile tuber.
You're a tuber, huh?
Barry, no.
Let's just focus on the gesture part
of the grand, romantic gesture.
Do you have any skills that might dazzle a lady?
I have Medicare. - Is that a skill? - No.
Let's just do what we always do,
you stand outside her window
holding a boombox over your head.
Box? No, that sounds expensive.
What about this thing?
Maybe you can sell it, give her the money?
Oh, my accordion!
The ladies do go crazy over a guy
who's got one of those strapped to his chest.
Logic and judgment suggest there's no way that's true,
but here we go.
I guess I can give the old girl some squeezes,
a few tickles.
Please tell me you're talking about this thing, not Joyce.
As Pop-Pop was planning to use his accordion,
my mom was set to put the Thanksgiving squeeze on Linda.
Well, thank you all for coming.
I know we have a big day tomorrow at Linda's.
Well, tonight's get-together is just a light Wednesday nosh
to prep our tummies for Linda's smorgasbord tomorrow.
Back in a jiff.
But the nosh wasn't so light.
It was heavy. Very heavy.
This is just Thanksgiving dinner.
Cool.
What did you do?
Oh, this?
Well, it's just a light offering
of some coincidentally seasonal dishes.
I'm looking at five gravy boats.
The stuffing, mashed potatoes, cornbread, and turkey
have to drown in something, Erica.
I brought a candle.
I see that it's unlit in the corner
and someone's placed some mail on top of it, but that's fine.
How is this bird somehow bigger than the first?
I always have a backup.
Um, this was Wishbone. Spirited fella.
The last 60 seconds of his life were chaotic.
Are those creamy sweet peas?
They're triple-creamy sweet peas.
The secret? More cream.
This is too far, woman. Too far.
Speaking of too far,
uh, could you put some sweet potatoes on my plate?
It still has some white space.
Linda, you still have real Thanksgiving tomorrow,
so why don't we all just relax
and fill our bellies to their physical limits?
- Lou! - They've got triple the cream, Linda!
I'm just a man!
As my mom's big night stole the spotlight from Linda,
Pop-Pop was about to put on a show of his own.
Joyce is gonna love your new look.
What have you done to my hair?
I look like that Italian fella on that show
with the leather jacket and the thumbs.
Exactly. An elderly Fonzie.
And what's with this sweater?
Sophia Loren couldn't fill this out.
It was my mom's, but don't worry.
The tag says "unisex."
You look good. Fine. Different.
You're gonna be great.
So in my mom's most normal sweater,
Pop-Pop played In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel,
and he was good.
He was really good.
Ben, what are you doing here?
I'm winning you back with the squeeze-box.
Oh, crap.
Until he wasn't.
I, uh, I can't be talking while I...
Ooh. My cat, he doesn't like...
Pop-Pop, stop.
It's like the moans of a ghost trapped in our world!
I can get back into it.
I'm... I'm just off by one finger.
Oh, no. Your cat got out.
I'll get it. I'm good with cats.
We both have adventurous natures.
I'm sorry. I clearly can't play this thing.
I mean, my hair is all slicked back
and they got me in this bosomy lady's garment.
Still, I-I appreciate the effort. It's nice.
Mm.
You're nice.
No, I'm not.
I just made up some things to impress you,
and the truth is, as a father, I'm kind of a putz.
I just thought if I got lucky,
you'd never find out.
Ben, I don't want you to be perfect.
I just want you to be yourself.
Really?
Really.
This might be a little late,
but, uh, you wouldn't want to go
to a Thanksgiving dinner now, would you?
You know what? I would.
Not every day somebody stands outside my door
and serenades me.
I'll get my purse.
And that, my boy, is why the accordion
is the most romantic of all the instruments you wear.
While Pop-Pop's heart was full,
everyone's bellies were, too.
Turkey's almost done, everyone.
- No more! - Are you trying to kill us?
Throw it in the trash, Linda!
I'm kind of full myself.
We're here.
Linda, I have to say,
I am so glad you are hosting this year.
Also, Murray will not be able to attend.
Something about Thanksgiving being yesterday.
Yep. Bev's bird did me in, too.
I slept for 12 hours last night,
instead of my usual 11.
Maybe that can be our new tradition, huh?
Pre-Thanksgiving at the Goldbergs'?
Erica realized she had to do something
to take down my mom,
so she pulled out her biggest weapon.
Can you help me set the table, Mom?
Or, fun thought, we skip the meal and just call it.
Hey, yay! Four-day weekend, everybody.
Oh, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Linda.
Can you help me set the table, Mom?
I must be in my manic phase
because I am giddy with anticipation.
That's right. Since we're becoming family,
I wanted to honor her with the title of "Mom."
Mm. This feels right.
Linda, is this true?
Have you decided that it is appropriate
for you to be addressed as such by the fruit of my womb?
Oh, Beverly. You misheard.
I'm pretty sure she said "ma'am."
You said "ma'am," didn't you, Erica?
Tell her you said "ma'am."
Nope, I called you "Mom," Mom.
And that, Mom,
is what I will call you from now on, Mom.
Geoffrey, when your mother gets back, call me "Mom."
Finally. Mom. Or Mommy?
Mama? Ma? Mammy? Momo?
Forget it. You make everything weird.
Joanne, you give it a try.
I actually call her Linda. What if I call you Linda? Would that work?
Worthless.
- Hey, Mom? - Yes?
Oh, I meant Linda.
You should probably go ahead and get used to that.
Okay, everyone. It's time.
Time for what? More drama?
For touch football in the yard. It's our family tradition.
I'd like to play.
Just so you're clear, it's "touch."
Just so you're clear, I don't give a
That Thanksgiving,
my mom and sister prepared for the most important
and maybe only touch football game of their lives.
Mom supremacy was on the line.
All right, enough stretching. Let's do this.
But I gotta keep these hammies warm
if I'm gonna shake and bake.
You know, my height and weight
are exactly the same
as Texas Oiler Earl Campbell.
Dad, please. No one knows how to respond to that.
Okay, let's pick teams.
I, of course, pick my mom.
Yes. Thank you, sweetheart. I knew you--
Damn it! You mean Linda, don't you?
Yep. And I'm gonna scoop up Joanne, too.
So now I'm stuck with the Schwartz men?
How is that fair?
And I'll be the referee
because the tension is palpable in the fall air.
And so, there on the chilly ryegrass
of the Schwartz backyard, warriors faced off.
On one side, my mom,
determined to reclaim her status as top mom.
And on the other, my sister,
ready to defend her mother-in-law at all costs.
It was a game for the ages.
Soon, it came down to the final drive.
Whichever team scored next won,
and fate set two combatants... Run!
...on a collision course - with history. - No!
Mom!
- Linda, are you okay? - I think so.
My shin might be a little bruised.
That isn't my leg, is it?
What the hell, Mom?
I was caught up in the game. I didn't mean to--
Wreck your best friend?
All because you lost a stupid holiday.
This might be the wrong time to ask,
is it "Linda" or "Lisa"?
While my mom may have seriously injured Linda,
Pop-Pop was trying to heal some old wounds.
There he is, Father of the Year.
Just listen for a second, clever guy.
I shouldn't have lied.
And yes, I wasn't the best dad.
Best? You're in the bottom three.
All right, get your licks in.
I know I was a miserable schmuck,
and that's why I thought I'd never have a lady in my life again.
All right, I was lonely, okay?
I didn't know that. You could have told me.
- How? - With words!
That's not my thing!
Look, the point is,
I would have done anything to keep her around.
Then why'd you drag her over here?
You... You should have known we'd ruin your lies.
I don't know. Maybe I wanted to show you all off or something.
You want to watch the game?
- Uh, together? - Yeah.
Oh, yeah.
While my dad and Pop-Pop looked to change their future,
my mom felt it was time to apologize for the past.
Is it okay if I sit?
Why, so you can steal Arbor Day or Cinco de Mayo
or Lou and Linda's anniversary?
Linda, I am so sorry.
You're one of my dearest friends.
And you are one of mine.
That's why I thought it would be so sweet
when our families merge.
It can be. It will be.
I'm just so scared I'm gonna lose my baby to you.
I'm scared I'm gonna lose my baby to you.
How about that?
Sounds like you have everything in common.
I guess that makes us pretty lucky.
I'm the lucky one. I get two great moms.
♪ Sometimes...
Are you going to be okay with me saying that?
Never.
But if it's gotta be someone,
I'm glad it's Linda.
As you get older, your family dynamics will inherently
change, shift, and evolve.
♪ I reach out from the inside...
Sometimes it's to welcome new,
completely unexpected family members.
♪ In your eyes...
And sometimes, it's to welcome friends
who've been there all along.
♪ I am complete
♪ In your eyes
♪ I see the doorway...
When you make room for everyone at your table...
you'll find every day
to be a joyous celebration.
What's up, Mom?
Ooh, yeah, that still doesn't feel right.
It's wildly uncomfortable for everyone involved.
There's got to be something that speaks to our closeness.
Mee-maw? Mamacita? Mommers? Mommaroony?
Mumsy? Mama-lou?
Queen Mother? Mamasaurus Rex?
Mother Superior? Bahama Mama? The Bev Train? Choo-choo.
Big Mama? She's a fine Mama-Jama?
Ooh, how about just "Beverly"?
Sorry. None of these are working.
But, Mrs. Goldberg--
Bup-bup! That's the one.