Adam vs. Eve - Adam & Eve
Oh Adam, looking back, it was all so simple in those childhood years, when my biggest worry was whether there would be chocolate cream pie for Thanksgiving dessert or whether Santa would fulfill my entire Christmas wish list.

Because the holidays in movies and sitcoms are typically portrayed with such perfection, it is that much more disappointing when our own experiences don’t measure up.

If only life could be like those Publix commercials featuring the pilgrim salt and pepper shakers.

When you’re finally old enough to fully understand the subtleties and not-so-subtleties of your family’s “quirks,” it seems all one can do is worry about which relatives are not on speaking terms, and which crazy aunt or uncle will create the greatest drama this holiday season. Like the time Uncle Bob got drunk and tried to use mashed potatoes, gravy and Saran wrap in explaining his ingenious idea to invent clear toilet paper, ultimately ruining dinner for everybody.

I’m sure I'll want to tear out my hair after a day of my father's incessant channel flipping of the TV, which is turned up loud enough for the neighborhood to hear. And I know I'll get annoyed the third time my grandmother says, "Eat some more."

Sometimes it can be so sad because a day like Thanksgiving lays bare the divisions and fractured relationships that unfortunately exist in my family. And eventually I'll take my mom up on having seconds and inevitably I'll feel guilty and so the cycle continues...Sigh.

If you’re married, maybe hubby can’t stand your father and you know it. If you’ve been dating forever, maybe you dread the grandparent’s inevitable dinner-table queries of “So when are you two going to get serious and settle down?” Or maybe you and the boyfriend are stressed because you’re living together, unbeknownst to your very conservative folks, and the thought of letting it slip over green bean casserole makes you want to hurl.

Sometimes it’s hardest for new couples. It’s been all lovely and relaxed over movies and candlelit dinners, but then you bring your guy home and he gets a dose of your loud-mouth sibling or your mom who just always says the most inappropriate things like “Here ya go dear, take some Beano, it will help relieve some of that gas you get from the onions”

So what’s an Eve to do from now through New Year’s? Well, drinking and stress eating is no good. You’ll just end up looking like Mrs. Claus. The better tactic is to enter the season with a balance of excitement and pragmatism. Yes, Thanksgiving dinner will probably be delicious and most of the loved ones you share it with are likely to be well-behaved, enjoyable company. But be realistic: Perfect is hard to come by when you put all those people together in one house or at one restaurant. Someone will probably annoy you at some point, and maybe you’ll feel a little down after seeing up close the family dysfunction that you can so easily avoid the rest of the year.

That’s OK. Take a few deep breaths, drink a glass of wine if it will help, and enjoy the good parts of the gatherings. Let the other stuff roll off your back like butter rolls down those mashed potatoes. Because here’s the best part about the holiday season: Like all good things, it comes to an end.

ADAM

Well Eve, why can’t the perfect holiday movie be more like Animal House? The majority of the household guests are half tanked, Otis Day and the Knights are actually encouraging everybody to shout and inevitably you finish the day off with an epic food fight?

But if we’re talking television, it’s probably best to look at Thanksgiving and the holidays through the eyes of a character like Al Bundy. Because you see, there are two types of men. Those who stand their ground and declare, “I am man. I do not have to do anything or go anywhere I don’t want to go.” And then there are those men who are married.

And in that case, the thought process is identical. It’s the actual verbalizing of that thought which becomes difficult. All it takes is “the look” from wifey. That stink-eye she gives that tells you to get up off the couch, get the kids ready and get your ass in gear. Option “B”? That doesn’t exist.

So you reach into the closet to find that “yes, your daughter picked the right guy” personality that you have to squeeze into two, maybe three times a year and you take a huge shot of the most potent whiskey in the cabinet before leaving the house to face the music.

What’s tougher to swallow than the whiskey is the fact that you know the old man was just like you at some point in his life so why can’t he cut you some slack? Because unless you’re married to Rae Dawn Chong, there’s a better than average chance that you don’t look forward to hanging out for half a day with your father-in-law.

And as usual, upon arrival, you girls go into the kitchen with your mothers and leave us alone with pops, which is like putting Michael Moore on a Fourth of July float with Dick Cheney. He flips on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and I can only envy the look of contentment on Mr. Potato Head’s face as he soars high above Broadway. After all, Mrs. Potato Head has kept her figure over the years and his little french fries aren’t running around the house like two Chihuahuas who just broke into a six-pack of Redbull.

The parade rolls on and here comes Underdog, followed by Popeye and Buzz Lightyear. Gosh, those were the types of dudes who we aspired to be when we were kids, brave and fearless. But then here comes Charlie Brown and that damn football and we realize we associate with him the most, because that b*#ch Lucy is just like the wife, each year she sells us this promise that there will be no drama during dinner and your dad will treat us with respect, but then she pulls that damn ball out from under us and we fall flat on our back as she sits there giggling and shrugs her shoulders.

And Eve, we know you take us for fools but that doest mean we’re complete idiots. We keep our eye on your mother too. We watch her in her holiday mode like a coming attraction to a Rob Zombie flick, hoping the fifth bottle of Budweiser can convince us that what we’re witnessing isn’t the Ghost of Christmas Future showing us a glimpse of what there is to look forward to. But that s*#t-eating grin on Scrooge’s face as he sits in his chair reading my thoughts says otherwise.  There’s a little piece of him which revels in the fact I’m wound up tighter than John Rocker at a NAMBLA convention.

Eventually we make it to the dinner table and bow our heads to say the blessing. The only thing I’m truly thankful for at that moment is the tryptophan in the turkey, as it is the perfect prescription to help me deal with the occasion. And when I say “deal with”, I mean by having an excuse to fall asleep on the couch immediately after dinner.

Then, just when I think it can’t get much worse, between the torture of your sister spewing advice on how to properly raise our kids and you asking me if we can spend the rest of the holiday weekend putting up Christmas decorations, your dad flips from the parade to the ball game and at that exact moment the clouds open up and a ray of sunshine illuminates the room.

I put your sister on mute, pop in a Disney video for the kids and ask you and your mother to go online to see if you can find those really cool singing garden santas. 

Then the sounds of Joe Buck and Troy Aikman hit your dads ears and for the first time all day he gives me a sincere smile. So in gesture, I hand him a cold Budweiser and he hits the recline button on the chair.

Ah yes. Football. A cure-all, bringing men of different generations and opposing states of senility together.  Seeing that Dallas star makes me want to put up the Christmas tree. Looking at Jerry Jones face makes me feel extremely young and vibrant still. Watching the Cowboys cheerleaders makes me yearn to make love again, even to my wife. Seeing those three-carat diamonds in the players ears makes me encourage my hyperactive kids to keep jumping off the couches and landing on one another. And finally, the look on the MVP’s face as he bites into the turkey leg makes me realize leftovers are coming for the next couple of days.

Suddenly the holidays aren’t such a bad thing after all. Thanks to football and family. Cheers!