Published: November 28, 2008 10:28 pm      

Appreciating Thanksgiving more each year

Thanksgiving is not my favorite holiday.

In the beginning, the warmth of the season seems to take the sting out of everyday life. I don’t mind brain-dead drivers as much, I ignore daily onslaught of junk e-mails that never make it to the ‘junk’ folder and I don’t let the knowledge that I’m totally broke bother me.

However, I seem to get less and less excited about all this holiday goodness as time goes by. The phone calls, list-making, the shopping, the endless cooking and cleaning . . . there’s so much work involved that soon the cheery warmth I once felt becomes more like a suffocating Texas heat wave.

Luckily, life seems to operate around the concept of three, and though the middle gets a little rough, I always find my way back to spirit of the holidays by the end.

Since the only family I live near is my younger sister, Dani, and her boyfriend, Kyle, many phone calls must be made to successfully coordinate any holiday. The first of which is always to my mother.

Where are we going to meet this year? Who’s going to be there? What should I make? Since the answers to my questions are almost never readily available, this call inevitably ends with “I’ll find out and call you back.” And so the list making begins.

1.Get with Mom again before making November budget. Must include cost of food and gas to/ from dinner location.

While waiting for Mom to call back, I make the call to my sister to remind her to let Mom and Dad know when she can take off of work and what she and Kyle want to have for dinner. (No answer; end up leaving lengthy message.)

2.Make sure Dani got my voicemail and that she calls Mom back.

While at work, of course, I get the call back from Mom I’ve been waiting for, but cannot answer it. Her message does not answer my questions, but asks why my sister hasn’t gotten in touch with her and if I know what they want to eat. (Go back to list of things to do and put big irritated stars next to number two.)

On the way to the store I finally get to speak to my Mom and get some answers. Dinner will be at my parents house in Houston, Aunt Monica and Uncle Chris and the kids are coming but we don’t know about Uncle Evans and Aunt Ann yet, and I don’t need to bring anything and should be trying to save my money for Christmas. Right. I turn the truck around.

“OK, Mom, thanks,” I say with a sigh. “How’s everything going with you?” And here’s where it usually happens. Having gotten all the business out of the way, I stop worrying about my lists and all the things I need to do and Mom and I can just talk.

She talks about how excited she is to have everyone over and that she hopes my Dad will make those little meatballs everyone loves . . . and I smile. I miss being home and really do look forward to the craziness of Thanksgiving Day.

As we talked I remembered how alike we are, and how wild our holiday get-togethers have been in the past. On separate occasions, both my Mom and I have absent-mindedly shut off the oven while the turkey was still cooking inside it.

Those years, no one ate until 9 o’clock at night and didn’t even mind — they were all having too much fun taking shots at us to care.

There have been years where cranberry sauce flew through the air, screaming matches erupted because someone refused to wipe down the base boards, tray after tray of garlic bread was burned and our Irish setter raced across the backyard with hot pink panties on its head.

With all this, it would be so easy to let the day be ruined. It would be so easy to put on fat pants, grab a second piece of cherry pie and while looking for the remote boldly announce to the living room, “I’m out. Leftovers are in the fridge.”

But the great, no, the beautiful thing about my family is that these insane events don’t ever ruin a holiday for us — they make it fun, and they make it memorable.

The story of the flying cranberries has been told a hundred times over, sometimes while laughing so hard you can barely make out the words.

The base boards remain a fierce battle of wills each and every year, my Mom has always had bad luck with garlic bread and I don’t think anyone will ever forget watching the hot pink panties zip by the picture window for all the neighborhood to see.

We remember these things all throughout the year, and suddenly, if just for a moment, the holiday spirit is with us again.

As I get older, I appreciate Thanksgiving more each year. I am more willing to make the calls and the shopping ventures and the trip out of town with my fiancé and 4-year-old.

I know that somehow, I will let the stress of frantic last minute preparations fade away and eventually get to enjoy my family over apple crisp and coffee.

Cheers, and may your Thanksgiving be a memorable one.