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Published on 12/21/1998 All articles from this issue

Jangled nerves over the holidays

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By Mary Cooper Feliz

Other Voices

Jangled nerves, jangled all the way. Planning family get-togethers at this time of year is a process fraught with disaster potential. Even after the cousins have canceled and Aunt Sophie's called to say she's bringing her new boyfriend and his six children, there's the many-course meal.

In my family, holiday dinners become the stuff of epic poetry - tales told and retold while the beast bubbles and the rolls turn golden brown. There's the roast the puppy stole and dragged around the yard; and the salmon someone dropped on the floor, plopped on a plate, and served with aplomb.

With legends like this in my blood, you'd think it'd be easy to abandon fantasies born from too many trips to the Nutcracker. It's not. I still cook up fantastic dreams of Victorian Christmases with every detail lace-edged and over-organized.

And then there's reality. Last year, the car broke down and everyone got sick. A toilet seal broke and flooded the bathroom on Christmas Eve, and adult relatives were behaving like ill-mannered brats.

I'd had just about enough of everything, but I still had some weird idea that my dreamscape holiday was holding together. The music played, the lights twinkled, and the dog threw up behind the tree instead of in front of it.

There were a few aberrations. My husband took a child to sports practice at the wrong gym and spent hours fuming when the coach didn't show. I took another child for a long-promised skating outing, only to learn there were no skates in our sizes. I saw those events as minor flaws in an otherwise "perfect" holiday season.

The revelation came New Year's Day, when I started to throw a frozen pizza in the oven. Juggling the pizza pan, I opened the oven door and slammed it quickly again in horror. Inside, completely shrouded in green, smelly fuzz, was the turkey we'd had for Christmas. We'd wondered (for several days) about the funny smell, but assumed it was the garbage disposal or one of the animals.

That green turkey did something magical to our family. Symphonies of laughter accompanied its trip to the trash. Faced with the reality of the long-forgotten beast, we looked back at our vacation in a whole different light. I could relax, remembering that what's important to me about celebrating holidays is creating memories that can be shared and enjoyed for years. That turkey, without any doubt, has its own special place in our family history.

This year, we had tickets to the Nutcracker and plans for the Festival of Lights parade. I skipped the velvet dresses, but I've some velvet leggings that will work for almost anything, and my kids looked their sharpest in clean jeans and turtlenecks.

I started out remembering that even the first Christmas had plans that went awry and animals that pooped in front of the company. With all those shepherds standing out in the cold, I'm sure one or two had the sniffles.

We decorated the house, sent some cards, ate too many sweets, and enjoyed the school holiday. We snuck around the house hiding gifts and kept whispered secrets from favored siblings.

And for our big meal? Even without its head, our traditional Christmas turkey has a tiny little mind of its own.

I planned the side dishes, and took what came, remembering that cooking disasters provide far more lasting fun than the bronzed roasts of perfection created by the fussiest cooks.

Mary Cooper Feliz's family of four celebrates Christmas. But she's noticed that no matter what religion or holiday a family embraces, December can be a crazy month.