Mikki Brisk

 

 

“…If you’re not enough without one, you’ll never be enough with one.”

John Candy as “Irving Blitzer,” on Gold Medals

Cool Runnings – 1993

 

It’s November. The very thought of that may send some folks running for cover, hoping to hide until January 2nd. Hoping to completely avoid all the freakin’ baggage that often accompanies the trip from hell known as The Holidays.

 

I remember my first Thanksgiving as a married gal. Both sides of the family (Mister’s and mine) descended upon our our little newlywed shack in Dallas. And I so wanted to make a good impression. I felt as if I needed the approval of all those relatives in order to be a good wife. Not only was I desperate to impress my new in-laws, but I also wanted to impress my old family and, most importantly, the love of my life. It wasn’t enough to try to make amazing food, I also had to make it look easy. And grand.

 

I shake my head now, but on that Thanksgiving I could only fret. I wasn’t a good cook. I had never learned. I wasn’t so bad that anyone wanted to drop me off a bridge in a paper sack or anything, but I was, at best, average. And because I’d not yet learned to cook well, I had no idea how to plan or organize the kitchen work. So my timing was off. Serving dishes weren’t chosen properly (or at all). The menu itself produced a plate of food in a single hue: beige. In short, the effort resulted in a blah kind of meal.

 

But not all was boring. For that was the year I lost a fingernail while mixing the stuffing by hand. My right thumbnail was long and rounded when I first dug my digits into the fixings of stuffing. I worked the hell out of that giant bowl’s contents, then stuffed the turkey and placed the excess stuffing in a baking dish. (And before anyone corrects me on this one, I know that putting “stuffing” in a separate dish makes it “dressing,” thank-you-very-much.) Once I’d gotten everything in the oven and washed my hands, my right thumbnail was no longer long and rounded. Instead, it was stubby and jagged. That’s right – a little part of me had been incorporated into the stuffing.

 

It was all I could do not to cry. I kept imagining my mother-in-law, pulling my thumbnail from her mouth as she ate the dinner I’d so shoddily prepared. I was mortified all day. I couldn’t very well start the whole process over again. Bake new cornbread? Chop new veggies? I didn’t have the supplies or the time. So I did the only thing I could. I told the truth. To everyone. No secrets. No surprises.

 

The thing about The Holidays that saddens me the most is the pressure we put on ourselves. Sure, we all have a relative or two who shows up wearing a metaphorical white glove, just looking for something to criticize. And that is their nature. Their f-ed up nature, yes, but their nature all the same. And you and I know that no matter how perfectly we perform whatever scene it is we’ve imagined our holiday gatherings as being, critical relatives will always, always, always critique.

 

Wouldn’t it be lovely to go into The Holidays feeling good enough about ourselves? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to design a tablescape/coordinate a menu/decorate the front door/choose the wine just for ourselves? Wouldn’t it be an amazing blessing to feel as if we ourselves are more than enough right now? And that our being more than enough is determined only by the love and kindness we feel for ourselves? Wouldn’t that internal applause be a jillion times greater than seeking ever-elusive external validation?

 

That first married Thanksgiving, all those years ago, turned out just fine. No one ever found the errant thumbnail, or if they did, they kept it to themselves. The day, like the food on the plate, ended up being fairly beige. Middle of the road. Not particularly special. As the years have slipped past, I’ve done a much better job of cooking to please myself. (I’ve also learned how to cook, which has completely changed my life.) When The Holidays approach now, I take time to consider what I want. And friends, it has made all the difference in the world. Guests have a better time because I have a better time. Mister has a better time, too. And as for those judgmental, nothing-will-ever-be-good-enough relatives, well, they are simply left off the guest list. Because as long as I am good enough, I am able to see that they just aren’t.

 

By the way, in case you’ve forgotten, you are good enough, too.

 

 

To help you get through your own version of The Holidays, I’m offering a free “Be the Buffalo” print as inspiration! This high-quality print is signed, matted and has a brief explanation of how the painting came about – attached on the reverse side. The lovely matted print measures 11 x 14 inches and is ready to be framed. To enter the drawing for this “Be the Buffalo” print, simply reply to the comments section of this post, telling me something you’re actually excited about during The Holidays. Winner will be selected at random and notified by email. Good luck!