Road weary

If you’re reading this on Monday, chances are it’s because you drove the entire state of Alabama and back to visit all the relatives for Thanksgiving.
With the holidays comes the insurmountable quest to visit every family member on the tree so no one’s feelings get hurt. Of course, this is as simple as finding the electric knife when the turkey’s ready.
Still, the urge to achieve family holiday harmony resurfaces annually like It’s a Wonderful Life. We want to please all the grandparents because once you become your own family, you realize how much goes into making the holidays happy.
This stress is why adult children lament that the holidays don’t have the same magic they did when they were little. Well, of course not. Right about the time you get married and get in on the holiday logistical planning, you realize why your mom always got that Thanksgiving headache and your dad’s eyes glazed over during dinner.
That childhood naiveté is part of the holiday magic. Remember when you were in college and your mom still signed your name with theirs on gift cards? In your postgraduate days when you and your siblings got together at your folks’ to eat and play board games into the wee hours on Thanksgiving night, your only care was whether you’re going to play Monopoly or Trivial Pursuit next. That’s grown-up holiday magic.
Now it’s a struggle to feel that magic when you’re trying to cram all the wrapped gifts into the car-top carrier, or when the crowd at the Louisville Cracker Barrel looks like…the crowd at the Franklin Cracker Barrel.
Your disillusionment begins when you have The First Grandchild. Suddenly you are responsible not only for your child’s holiday happiness but for that of your parents as well because you are bringing the most important gift of all: the baby.
Up till now it never occurred to you that your parents might have feelings, that they might not love eating at Waffle House on Christmas morning while you enjoy French toast at your in-laws’ place.
But marriage, divorce, in-laws and exes all claim a piece of your pumpkin pie, so the family tries to devise a system that won’t sacrifice anyone’s sanity.
For years, my family had what we considered the foolproof “home and away” plan. If Thanksgiving was at the three brothers’ parents’ house, it was called “home,” and that Christmas would be at the wives’ parents’ houses, or “away.” The following year, we’d switch.
When we were first married, Labor Day picnic conversations usually started with, “So, are we ‘home’ or ‘away’ for Thanksgiving this year?”
However, all it takes to destroy the system’s delicate balance is for one of the grown kids to opt out by moving across the country or having two or three more babies. If your family is facing this season without a plan, I hope you all won’t be sitting around the fire singing that new holiday classic:
“Over the river and through the woods to the therapist’s couch we go….”