Mashed Potato Madness

Posted on by Victoria

Heads Up, and Gobble Gobble…

I can’t help but share a ‘take two’ of this Thanksgiving piece.  Of all the things I wrote on WordPress last year, a post about mashed potatoes still gets a lot of attention.  I suspect it has little to do with the holiday itself – or the spuds in question – since it’s only we Americans who celebrate Thanksgiving at this time.  Nope – I think the readership for the post had more to do with the message.  Even in the pressure cooker of holiday time, moments of friendship and support – sharing a little rant or two – can deepen a connection, help us find our way to a less encumbered and frustrated mood.

It Was Never About the Mashed Potatoes

Holiday time isn’t for everyone.  Such a mixed bag of tricks…I swear it feels like a continuation of Halloween.  We’re surrounded by manufactured cheer.  For some, the festive and formulaic films on the Hallmark Channel are a tonic. For others? They have an ironic, unintended effect, prompting prayers for amnesia so we can avoid comparisons to our own family members.  You know them. Every family has one or two…those provocateurs wrapped in reindeer sweaters. 

I have a dear friend…let’s call her Dottie.  She’s the cutie in the pic with me above. Dottie and I have been friends for 20+ years, which means she deserves a special commendation for her veteran status in “Vicki-land”.  I adore her because she is smart and big-hearted. I could go on…and on…but in truth, the qualifications for best friend status could stop at those two characteristics.  Smart and big hearted.  That’s Dottie.

In her work-world, Dottie’s respected, sought-after and the spotlight only adds to her natural glimmer and glow.  Her family, however?  They believe she’s just an over-educated caterer.  (No offense intended to caterers but I don’t think Dottie’s advanced degrees and credentials are required.)

For reasons I’d like to attribute to laziness, Dottie’s family enjoys holiday feasts because she creates them. Yep.  She plans the menu, does the shopping, and lovingly transports her tasty cuisine to her sister’s home.  Her sister who lives an hour away. 

Maybe in our youth we accept certain roles when dumped (I mean…placed) upon us within the family.  As we get older?  Traditions suck – especially if you’re the sole supporter of some of them. I don’t care how often a distant uncle belches his gratitude after polishing off a two-plater-feast-o-rama. It’s not enough.  I don’t care how often second cousins and hangers-on (where did these extra people come from?) comment on the ‘tender bake’ of your homemade yeast rolls, or how juicy the turkey is.  No.  No.  No.  You guessed it.  Not enough. We yearn for consideration, respect, and kindness.  Even if only a tad.

What about the mashed potatoes I mentioned in the title of this rant?  Yeah, I’m getting to that.  The spuds were responsible for obliterating Dottie’s dwindling holiday cheer.  See…when you are the designated purveyor of everything for your family feast, you need to plan ahead – just a smidge.  I love the idea of a sous chef or Keebler elves, but I haven’t met any yet and neither has Dottie.

Unwilling to bet her oven gloves on magical helpers, smart girls like Dottie make a LENGTHY shopping list…check it twice….and map out the cooking, baking, and prep in the same way I imagine a four-star General goes into battle.  Except she’s got no troops.  It’s just her…so the timeline…the second big task after all the fetching and gathering is done…becomes mission critical. When do I prepare what…as she scans the menu and strategizes. 

Thanksgiving’s always on a Thursday, right?  You know this. Surely Dottie’s sister did, too, but that didn’t stop her from calling the afternoon before Thanksgiving – you know, the day we call WEDNESDAY to proudly proclaim she’d be the princess of potatoes.  Hey there, darling Dottie, loving sis.  So…let’s see…I really want to help and considering you’re bringing everything…I’ll give til it hurts and maybe do the potatoes.  See me?  I’m SO helpful. 

When we’re not stretched so thin that we’re like rubber bands ready to snap, even a late-in-the-game helping hand is nice.  When you’re up to your armpits in a messy kitchen, juggling too much, the intrusion of a half-hearted “offer” is insulting.  And that’s how Dottie felt.  Not helpful.  Was she wrong?  No. There’s no ‘wrong’ when it comes skyscraper levels of emotionality at holiday time.  What you feel is what you feel…but what you say and do…oh, those are the moneymakers or the deal breakers. 

When Dottie called me, not long after her sister’s offer, she was ready to cancel Thanksgiving and bail on the whole shebang.  As I listened, I couldn’t blame her.  She’s been used for years…and yet…pointing out that it MIGHT BE that she’s changed…and her family’s the same as ever…seemed helpful.  Maybe it’s okay for Dottie to be angry but funnel the heat toward adjusting her response.  And she did.

Dottie did her duty. She delivered the feast (without the potatoes) and rather than assume her typical position in her sister’s kitchen, she explained that she’d let others tend to the remaining prep, as she took a comfy seat on the sofa.  “Do you want to help with anything?” one of her nieces asked, no doubt flummoxed to see Aunt Dottie relaxing while everyone else spun into action.  “No – I see you’ve got plenty of help. I’m good right here”, was Dottie’s succinct and satisfying response.

One of the best things about friends is the post-mortem chats.  Post-mortems about anything – family feasts, annoying neighbors, dry cuticles – you name it.  When Dottie and I compared notes about Thanksgiving I was thrilled to hear about her new persona.  Less ‘Dutiful Dottie” and more “Do-it-Your-Own-Damn-Self-Dottie”.  Yep – it was never about the mashed potatoes. 

Dottie’s doing well, btw.  Although she managed a big cross-country move since last Thanksgiving, she’ll be hosting once again as her sister visits her in her new home.  I’ll give you an update on this year’s festivities – with or without the mashed potatoes.  Dottie promises to share the details!

But don’t go yet…I’ve got one more Thanksgiving twist up my sleeve…waiting for you on Victoria Ponders.  A giggle and some silly memories. 

Vicki 😉

Victoria Ponders: It Was Never About the Mashed Potatoes. 

56 thoughts on “Mashed Potato Madness”

  1. Pingback: Thanksgiving Delights – Victoria Ponders

  2. Poor Dottie, but good for her for standing her ground. I’m observing more and more that there are givers and takers in this world. The givers just give and give out of duty, obligation or maybe love. The takers drift along with no idea of the effort involved to do anything. GRRR.

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    1. Love that you see that, too – but sorry that you do at the same time? Does that make sense? Yes…those takers. If we don’t change our own behavior, we’re just feeding the monsters…sometimes literally, eh? Hugs to you this morning, Michelle! 🥰

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  4. You caught me. Yes, I’ve gone back and read this post a couple times. Each time I ended up saying to myself, “Self, I said, good for Dottie!” Those little rants do make heaps of differences in us. Thanks for the peek into our own lives!

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  7. Dottie is my kind of gal. Good for her for drawing the lines and boundaries.

    I believe in the saying many hands make light work and am thankfully for family and friends that respect this ethos too.

    Enjoy your upcoming thanksgiving!

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  11. This made me laugh! I don’t know how many show at Dottie’s house, but maybe next year, everyone contributes a dish to share? Or, alternatively, there are restaurants open on Thanksgiving, which will allow everyone in the family to relax. Just tip extra well! Also, I love when people “dish” about what happened at Thanksgiving! Hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving! 😊 Mona

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  12. Good for Dottie. She deserves to be waited on and her family to step up. I’ve done Thanksgiving for years, but this year we are invited to a friend’s house two hours away and will spend a few days with them.

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      13. Definitely!!! I love my close friends, including you and our WP world. A big thrill was when visitors from Palm Springs asked us if we hung out with “Bob and Julie.” We asked “Huh?” It turned out we moved within a mile of each other within three months. We lived a stone’s throw apart and raised our kids together but lost contact after the kids grew up. Now we’re one mile apart. This area is 6 million people!

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      14. Oh my goodness! That’s crazy…and the most amazing example of how blessed we can be in unexpected ways. ❤️Thank you for being one of those gifts to me…I’ve adored getting to know you, Elizabeth. Xo! 🥰

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  13. Dottie’s indulgence of her unappreciative family doesn’t encourage them to change much. The patients I treated like Dottie in similar situations generally never found a way to get the others to change.

    Might it be that she has to change more dramatically? How about not cooking or bringing the food? Is she fearful of being disapproved of? There are some questions here. Will the clan even remember her mini-revolt? We shall see.

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  17. An interesting read… but I can’t help wondering…is Dottie a friend or is this a self portrait? It would be fascinating to know how the other attendees at the feast felt about the situation

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