Holiday anguish: Confessions of an imperfect mother

BY SALLY FRIEDMAN

NEWJERSEYNEWSROOM.COM

LIFESOUNDS

You'd think I'd have learned the drill by now. You'd think a veteran of sharing three married kids with the in-laws would know better.

But when our middle daughter, Amy, called early this fall with a certain discomfort in her voice and a definite agenda, I braced myself for what I guessed was coming. And it came.

"We're spending Thanksgiving with David's family this year," said Amy. "It's their turn."

I forced myself not to sigh. I even managed to summon up some phony cheer and to force out some words about what a wonderful time she'd have at Eva and Jerry's.

What I didn't say was, "I hate this! I know I'm a selfish brat, but I hate it!"

It's not enough that Eva and Jerry live in a spectacular Park Avenue apartment or that Amy's mother-in-law is not only a neurologist and a sculptress, but also a superb cook.

What really rankles most now is that Amy's in-laws also get our shared grandchildren, the adorable and adored Emily and Carly, on Thanksgiving Day — we don't.

My own pettiness makes me cringe

But let me give it to you straight: When it comes to holidays, and "sharing" our kids and grandkids, I flunk. I'm like a kindergartener who doesn't want to give up her blocks and crayons.

We've actually managed pretty well on the Jewish holidays because they're numerous and allow for flexibility. Sure, it takes some fancy footwork to get the full contingent, but because there are "first days" and "second days" for Rosh Hashanah and Passover seders, and a full eight days for Hanukah, it's much easier.

But when it comes to Thanksgiving, this quintessential family holiday, the ultimate Norman Rockwell gathering of the clan, there isn't the same leeway. Thanksgiving is inviolate. Etched in stone. Fourth Thursday of the month of November. No switches.

So this Thanksgivng, our clan will again be incomplete.

And again, I feel a surge of uncharitable jealousy.

I wish that Amy could be at our Thanksgiving table, with all the noise, confusion and foolishness that we always generate. I wish that we needed those extra four chairs around the table that is already stretched to its limit and beyond, with the oak leaves, some warped now, set into place in a battle with gravity and space.

But there will be extra elbow room this afternoon, with those elbows of Amy's family missing. I'd happily give up the extra space for the missing occupants.

It happened with Nancy last Thanksgiving. This youngest daughter did not partake of the stuffing she loves (wet, no mushrooms) or the sweet potato-marshmallow concoction that has been on the menu since time immemorial. Nancy was at another table with her "other" family. The stuffing there is crispy, and with chestnuts. No sweet potato casserole.

So we supposedly learn to expect — and accept — the changes. And we do.

Sure, it's too bad that Amy and her family won't be with us.

Of course, our Thanksgiving gathering will still be wonderful. There will still be plenty of us to attack the turkey and all the trimmings, to eat too much and laugh a lot, tell stories in the shorthand patois of families and remember just how fortunate we are.

As always, we'll pause to ponder our blessings — and they are manifold.

But it won't be quite the same without that missing branch of the family tree.

In theory, sharing is wonderful and right. In practice — at least at Thanksgiving — it's just hard to master.

Especially for a mother who is still learning that family life is always a series of compromises with perfection.

Sally Friedman is a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, resident of Moorestown, and longtime contributor to local, regional and national publications. The mother of three has seven grandchildren and is the wife of retired New Jersey Superior Court judge Victor Friedman. She can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .