Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and my first guests begin arriving this afternoon. I always go through several distinct stages during the holidays. When they are still a month or two away, I have thoughts like "Wouldn't it be a blast to have the entire gang here in Wimberley with us for the holidays?" I'm completely laid back and enthusiastic about it at that point, but as the time draws closer, I start thinking about all that needs to be done, and a slight sense of unease begins to creep in. What am I going to feed them all for those eight meals? Can I get all the groceries I need here in Wimberley, or will I have to haul some of it from Houston? Do I have all the spices, pots, and pans I need here? Where will everyone sleep? That's when I start making lists. Lots and lots of lists. My husband likes to tell people that I make lists of all the lists I'm going to make, but he exaggerates. When I feel comfortable that I have every single thing that needs to be done written down on paper somewhere, and I have all my lists assembled in front of me, I start thinking "Oh shit, how will I ever get all of this done? There just aren't enough hours in the day!" That's when unease progresses towards mild panic, and I begin making schedules - cooking schedules, cleaning schedules, chore and errand schedules for each member of the family... You get the picture. John once referred to it as switching into "Maximum-Martha-Mode".
We are beyond that stage now, and on to full-blown panic! Once the cooking and cleaning are under control, I start thinking about the people themselves, and all the clashing personalities involved. That's when I slap my head and say "What was I thinking!" I was just sitting here on the porch this morning, praying "Please God, don't let anything happen to spoil this get-together. It may be the last one where we are all here, so please, let it be wonderful!" Then suddenly I remembered that scene at the end of the movie "It's a Wonderful Life", where everyone in town is offering up prayers at once, for the well-being of Jimmy Stewart and his family. I got really tickled thinking that I'm probably not the only one who is sending up a prayer for my family to behave themselves this year. In fact, God is probably being bombarded with them from all directions about now! The good news is that, once the doorbell rings, the panic completely disappears, to be replaced by squeals, hugs, and jumping up and down. Yes, there will probably be tears at some point, and there will most certainly be hurt feelings, but this is the only family I've got, and that's just how it goes. The only families that never have to deal with this are the ones on TV!
I'm still amazed that Mom and Dad actually came, and that the visit went more or less smoothly, all things considered. They said the drive down wasn't nearly as bad as they were expecting, and they truly seemed happy to be here, and delighted to see what a wonderful home we have here. The weather was perfect, so we set up long tables out on the porch for our feast. I tried a new Tex-Mex Turkey recipe this year that had tamales in the stuffing, and served it with an enchilada gravy. What a hit! Even Bud, who rarely pays any attention to what he's eating, asked for the recipe.
Although Mom and Dad didn't arrive until immediately before the meal, once that was over with, I think Mom felt like she had accomplished what she set out to do, and now it was time to go home. Ever since they moved into their new house with my sister, Mom has bemoaned the fact that the living room is at the rear of the house, and she can't sit on the sofa and keep tabs on what is going on in the neighborhood. We thought she would absolutely adore sitting out on our porch , being able to see the little church house down the way, watch the comings and goings at the antique store and bakery across the road, watch the deer munch their way across the yard each evening, and especially, enjoy all the birds that she loves so much as they congregate in the trees just an arm's length away. Imagine our surprise the next day when she announced "The book says fresh air is bad for me." For as long as I can remember, Mom has preceded most statements with "The Book Says". I'm still trying to figure out exactly which book that is. From that point on, she never set foot on the porch, and if we forgot and left a window ajar, or turned a ceiling fan on, we would look up to find this little tented mound in a chair, with a blanket covering her from head to toe.
Dad, on the other hand, seemed to thrive up here. He hadn't been able to sleep for weeks prior to coming here, but actually managed to stay in bed an entire night before the visit was over with. He joined us on the porch each morning to watch the sun come up, loved going to the cafe for breakfast, and bonded with John out at his cigar-smoking table each evening. All in all, I think the whole weekend was well worth the effort!
Since it is Thanksgiving, I think I should wind up by saying what I am secretly most thankful for, in addition to my large, loving, wacky, wonderful family. I am thankful for the book Simple Abundance, which set me on the road to finding my voice. It taught me that it was OK to be just a little bit selfish, and made me realize that if I stopped trying to be the person that everyone in my family wanted me to be, and just concentrated on being me, then I would be a much happier, complete person. That led me to going back to school, which led to my wonderful job at the nursery. It also led to my pushing for the move to Wimberley, which gave me something to write about! And though I knew from childhood experience that anger and bitterness were contagious, I soon discovered that happiness and enthusiasm were also contagious. Mine spread to my kids and my husband, improving their lives as well. So thank you Sara ban Breathnach, we owe you one!
We are beyond that stage now, and on to full-blown panic! Once the cooking and cleaning are under control, I start thinking about the people themselves, and all the clashing personalities involved. That's when I slap my head and say "What was I thinking!" I was just sitting here on the porch this morning, praying "Please God, don't let anything happen to spoil this get-together. It may be the last one where we are all here, so please, let it be wonderful!" Then suddenly I remembered that scene at the end of the movie "It's a Wonderful Life", where everyone in town is offering up prayers at once, for the well-being of Jimmy Stewart and his family. I got really tickled thinking that I'm probably not the only one who is sending up a prayer for my family to behave themselves this year. In fact, God is probably being bombarded with them from all directions about now! The good news is that, once the doorbell rings, the panic completely disappears, to be replaced by squeals, hugs, and jumping up and down. Yes, there will probably be tears at some point, and there will most certainly be hurt feelings, but this is the only family I've got, and that's just how it goes. The only families that never have to deal with this are the ones on TV!
* * * * *
Well, the week is over, and it's time to head back to Houston. I started to say "head home", then I realized that Wimberley is finally starting to feel more like home than Houston - especially after spending a whole week here with all the family, and celebrating a holiday here. Yesterday I started hanging garland on the porch, so we could take a photo for our Christmas cards, and that just clinched the feeling. Every time I started to get a little blue about having to leave, I just reminded myself that I only have a couple of weeks left to work, and then I get to come back here for Christmas, and that just cheered me right up!I'm still amazed that Mom and Dad actually came, and that the visit went more or less smoothly, all things considered. They said the drive down wasn't nearly as bad as they were expecting, and they truly seemed happy to be here, and delighted to see what a wonderful home we have here. The weather was perfect, so we set up long tables out on the porch for our feast. I tried a new Tex-Mex Turkey recipe this year that had tamales in the stuffing, and served it with an enchilada gravy. What a hit! Even Bud, who rarely pays any attention to what he's eating, asked for the recipe.
Although Mom and Dad didn't arrive until immediately before the meal, once that was over with, I think Mom felt like she had accomplished what she set out to do, and now it was time to go home. Ever since they moved into their new house with my sister, Mom has bemoaned the fact that the living room is at the rear of the house, and she can't sit on the sofa and keep tabs on what is going on in the neighborhood. We thought she would absolutely adore sitting out on our porch , being able to see the little church house down the way, watch the comings and goings at the antique store and bakery across the road, watch the deer munch their way across the yard each evening, and especially, enjoy all the birds that she loves so much as they congregate in the trees just an arm's length away. Imagine our surprise the next day when she announced "The book says fresh air is bad for me." For as long as I can remember, Mom has preceded most statements with "The Book Says". I'm still trying to figure out exactly which book that is. From that point on, she never set foot on the porch, and if we forgot and left a window ajar, or turned a ceiling fan on, we would look up to find this little tented mound in a chair, with a blanket covering her from head to toe.
Dad, on the other hand, seemed to thrive up here. He hadn't been able to sleep for weeks prior to coming here, but actually managed to stay in bed an entire night before the visit was over with. He joined us on the porch each morning to watch the sun come up, loved going to the cafe for breakfast, and bonded with John out at his cigar-smoking table each evening. All in all, I think the whole weekend was well worth the effort!
Since it is Thanksgiving, I think I should wind up by saying what I am secretly most thankful for, in addition to my large, loving, wacky, wonderful family. I am thankful for the book Simple Abundance, which set me on the road to finding my voice. It taught me that it was OK to be just a little bit selfish, and made me realize that if I stopped trying to be the person that everyone in my family wanted me to be, and just concentrated on being me, then I would be a much happier, complete person. That led me to going back to school, which led to my wonderful job at the nursery. It also led to my pushing for the move to Wimberley, which gave me something to write about! And though I knew from childhood experience that anger and bitterness were contagious, I soon discovered that happiness and enthusiasm were also contagious. Mine spread to my kids and my husband, improving their lives as well. So thank you Sara ban Breathnach, we owe you one!
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