The Invisible Work of Hosting Family Gatherings

I Love a Good Celebration. I Have Questions About the Staffing.

Everybody loves a special occasion. Some of us would also like to attend one.

There's a moment before every family gathering when somebody says, "We should do something nice this year."

And I agree.

I love nice things. I love decorations. I love good food. I love everybody getting together and acting like we don't have fourteen other things we should be doing.

What I don't love is discovering that "we should do something nice" apparently means I have been appointed director of operations.

No interview. No salary discussion. Not even a name tag.

Just a vague suggestion about making memories, followed by several days of work nobody remembers assigning.

I can love the decorations and still have questions about the staffing arrangement.

The Necessary Nonsense

Enjoying an occasion and producing it are two different jobs.

Enjoying an occasion involves showing up, eating something good, complimenting the decorations, and possibly taking a picture.

Producing an occasion involves discovering that the nice tablecloth needs washing.

Which seems minor until you realize the washing machine is already occupied, the tablecloth has a mysterious stain from the last gathering, and nobody remembers where the matching napkins went.

Now we're running a laundry operation. And that's before anybody has eaten.

There's also the food.

What are we having? How much do we need? Does everybody like it? Are we making the same thing as last year? Where's the serving dish? Why do we own eleven plastic lids that fit absolutely nothing but somehow cannot locate one decent serving spoon?

These are the questions that turn a festive occasion into an administrative position.

Meanwhile, somebody is asking what time we're eating.

Excellent question. I'll consult the department responsible for everything.

Oh, right. That's me.

Parenting Excellence

As a mother of five, I've developed a healthy respect for the difference between having help and managing help.

Because people will absolutely offer to help.

"Just tell me what you need me to do."

And I appreciate that. Truly. But now I have another job.

I have to identify the task, explain the task, assign the task, and occasionally follow up on whether the task has been completed.

I'm not receiving assistance. I'm supervising a project. And apparently, the project requires a manager who can also make the macaroni and cheese.

There's always something.

Someone needs to set out the plates. Someone needs to find more chairs. Someone needs to clear whatever has accumulated on the table since the last time we pretended it was exclusively for eating. And somebody needs to explain why we have been preparing for this occasion all day, but a child has just announced there is nothing to eat.

There is food everywhere.

Some of it is covered in aluminum foil. Some of it is cooling on the counter. Some of it has very specific instructions about not touching it yet. Apparently, none of that qualifies.

I have five children. I know how to organize a complicated operation.

I'd simply prefer not to receive another assignment while holding a hot casserole dish.

The Thing Nobody Warned Us About

The strange thing about special occasions is that the better everything goes, the less visible the work becomes.

If the table looks nice, nobody thinks about who washed the tablecloth. If the food is ready, nobody wonders who figured out when everything needed to go into the oven. If there are enough plates, chairs, drinks, and napkins, everybody assumes those things were always available.

Which is wonderful. That's the goal. But somewhere along the way, the person making everything happen can become the person who experiences the least of it.

Everybody else is visiting.

You're checking on something in the kitchen.

Everybody is laughing.

You're trying to remember whether you put the rolls in the oven.

Someone asks you to come sit down.

You would love to. You just need to finish three things first.

And then somebody needs ice. Why is it always ice?

We have managed to organize an entire gathering involving multiple households, several food groups, and decorations nobody technically needed.

But ice remains an unresolved infrastructure issue.

The Group Chat Would Understand

One of my favorite parts of planning anything is the group discussion.

Everybody has ideas. Wonderful ideas.

"We should make it special."

"Let's do something different."

"We could add a few decorations."

"Wouldn't it be fun if everybody brought something?"

Absolutely. Who doesn't enjoy a collaborative creative process?

My only question is whether the collaboration continues once we get to the part involving actual labor. Because there's a difference between suggesting a centerpiece and locating the centerpiece. There's a difference between recommending a menu and making sure the ingredients are in the house.

And there's a considerable difference between saying, "We should get together," and being the person responsible for making sure everybody has somewhere to sit when they arrive.

The first is a suggestion. The second requires moving furniture. I have no objection to a beautiful occasion. I just think the person who suggests an elaborate plan should automatically be entered into a drawing for the position of event coordinator.

No opting out. You brought the vision. Congratulations on your new responsibilities.

And if the group chat starts discussing next year's event before we've even cleaned up this one, I reserve the right to mute the conversation.

Possibly until spring.

One Thing I Know Now

The funny part is that I really do love these occasions.

I love seeing everybody together. I love the little traditions. I love the excitement, the conversations, the familiar food, and the way a room full of people can make an ordinary day feel like something worth remembering.

Especially with children growing up.

You start realizing there are only so many years when everybody is still under the same roof, still available for the same traditions, still around the same table.

And I want those moments.

I want the pictures. I want the memories. I want the laughter coming from the next room. I just also want to be in the next room.

Not permanently stationed in the kitchen wondering whether the gravy needs stirring.

That's the part I've started thinking about. Making things special for the people you love is a good thing. But participating in the special thing matters, too.

I don't need every detail to be perfect. I don't need matching napkins. I don't need anyone to make a speech acknowledging my outstanding contributions to seasonal table arrangements.

Although I would accept a certificate.

I just think there ought to be room for the person who helped make the memories to actually enjoy a few of them.

Without checking the oven.

The Last Word Before Dinner

So yes, I still love a good celebration.

I love the decorations. I love the food. I love the people. I even love the planning when it doesn't somehow turn into a position I never applied for. But I am becoming increasingly interested in a revolutionary concept.

Everybody participates.

Not just in the eating. In the preparation. The cleanup. The part where somebody realizes the trash is full and takes it out without needing a formal announcement.

I don't think this is unreasonable.

I'm not asking to be treated like royalty. I'm asking to sit down long enough to finish a conversation without mentally reviewing the kitchen inventory. And if that means the decorations are a little simpler or the tablecloth doesn't make an appearance this year, I think civilization will survive.

The memories can still be good. The food can still be good. Everybody can still have a wonderful time.

Including the person who knows where the extra folding chairs are.

As for next year? I'm sure somebody will have ideas. They always do. And I'm happy to listen.

From a chair. With a plate of food. While somebody else takes notes.

If anybody wants a meeting about next year, somebody else can organize it.

With Love, Just Jessica

One Sentence Worth Keeping..... I can love the decorations and still have questions about the staffing arrangement.