As Thanksgiving approaches, I know that my children who live nearby will offer to give me a break and host our family dinner at one of their homes. But I have no intention of relinquishing my position as chief cook, for the feast, at least not this year. I want to have Thanksgiving dinner at my house and I am not willing to sit quietly by and let someone else take charge.
When I was a child, mothers and grandmothers were full-time homemakers with the time to plan the holiday meal, polish the silver, shop, and start cooking the Monday before the feast. Tables were set carefully with a freshly-pressed cloth and the best crystal and china. Today, most women work long hours outside the home. They shop frantically for the holiday, cook simple recipes, hide the toys in the closet, and hope to set the table before dinnertime. Even though I still work outside the home, I have some time, and lots of energy, and so with careful advance planning I intend to uphold the traditions of my foremothers for at least a few more Thanksgivings. As long as it pleases me to cook for my family on this important day, why should I stop doing it?
The alternatives
It's not as if I haven't ever let anyone else host us on the holidays:
* Before we all lived in the same city, my husband and I occasionally traveled to spend Thanksgiving with my daughter. She is a wonderful cook, and she follows the recipes I made when she was growing up. She bakes her aunt’s sweet-potato casserole with too many marshmallows and too much brown sugar for my taste, but her little ones love it. And we both still adore our 1970s-era broccoli casserole with Cheese Whiz. Today she is a single mom with two energetic children living in a small, cluttered house with lots of pets underfoot. She still sets a beautiful table, but the dining alcove is cramped and the men fidget in the space as the meal begins. She makes a hearty turkey soup but freezes the leftover turkey for January dinners, not for sandwiches.
* A couple of years ago, I let my son and his wife host a holiday dinner. Their dining room is large but, lacking festive dishes or glassware, their holiday table setting was the same as every other night. My daughter-in-law, who was raised in England and rarely cooks, doesn’t have the same appreciation for extravagant Thanksgiving dinners as the rest of us: She ordered a strange combination of vegetable side dishes from a caterer. But my son's turkey was delicious, although his oven was too small to roast a bird big enough to yield leftovers.
* We also occasionally go East to celebrate Thanksgiving with my stepson and his family. His wife cooks delicious country ham and scalloped potatoes and serves a store-bought cake for dessert; the leftovers go to the dogs. When I get home from there, I bake a turkey breast for sandwiches.
Those holidays were all lovely but this year, I will insist that Thanksgiving isn't too much for me, cook the biggest turkey I can find so there will be plenty of leftovers, and badger one and all to dress up so we can take a family picture. After all, I can make a fantastic giblet gravy, but only in my own kitchen.
What really matters
If you're in my position, and your children have offered to host the holiday for you, don't hurt their feelings as you politely say no. Explain that getting out the "good" plates and using your grandmother’s tablecloth reminds you of your childhood, and that you want to share those memories with your grandchildren. Tell them you see it as an opportunity to talk with the kids about how you celebrated Thanksgivings as a child and what you remember most. And if they really want to help, encourage them to bring their favorite side dishes to enhance the traditional recipes you'll be serving.
But the truth is, the food and the table aren't what matter most on Thanksgiving. I asked each of my grandchildren what they liked best about the holiday, and the responses included "Grammie’s pumpkin pie," " the turkey," "everything," "Mom doesn't go to work," and "playing with my cousins.” What I like best is that on Thanksgiving, wherever we are, we are together, three generations chatting about, life, work, and kids, the volume turned up in good cheer and gratitude for our many blessings. We bow our heads to remember loved ones no longer with us and to be thankful for our six beautiful grandchildren, all growing up too quickly. When I look at the smiling faces of my grown children, I remember Thanksgivings past when they were picky eaters, quarrelsome and adorable. No, I don't mind hosting. The years pass too quickly, especially for grandparents.
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