The Hostess with the Mostess

For food, for raiment, for life, for opportunity

For friendship and fellowship,

We thank Thee, O Lord

I have been away from home for Thanksgiving for three years running and I no longer mourn my mother's twice baked potatoes or my aunt's cranberry ice. I've roasted a turkey breast for me and Meg and Kate and our tiniest Thanksgiving Dinner Ever in 2007. And I baked a sweet potato casserole and a few other sides for the Awkward Roommate Feast of 2008. But this year, I hosted. I hosted dinner for 10 healthy young people with healthy strong appetites. The turkey weighed 23 pounds.

I don't know if you have ever experienced Marthaphobia (fear of hostessing; name drawn from Biblical account of the woman who would not stop cooking and cleaning even to listen to Jesus and, of course, the ultimate hostess, Martha Stewart), but it can utterly dominate those who suffer from it.

The first signs showed up weeks before the actual event, when I realized that I was in charge of Thanksgiving. Let me explain: a former roommate told me that she wanted to host Thanksgiving and had suggested gathering a few friends to feast together. She asked if we could have the dinner at my house, as my house contains a sizable dining room table. "Sure," I said, "we can have people over here." About a week after that conversation this friend sent me a friendly email asking if she could bring a salad to contribute to the meal. At first I was confused, but I soon came to understand that she took my offer of a table as an offer to make dinner. Thus began the four stages of Marthaphobia:

#1) Victimization: This stage is characterized by self-pity and anger directed towards guests. "Why do they expect so much of me? Why do I have to pay for everything? Can't some else iron table linens for once?" This  phase is typically short-lived because either the inner hostess naturally rises above these base emotions or the hostesses boyfriend gives her a talking-to that has the same effect.  Once the victimization abates, the Marthaphobic passes into the next stage:

#2) Perfectionism: This self-explanatory stage is where most Marthaphobics remain, dominated by a desire to control the event and perfect every detail. The perfectionist is likely to break down in tears when she discovered on Monday that her frozen turkey really should defrost for four or five days before brining. Irrationally dramatic responses to small setbacks are typical of this stage. She should not be allowed to go to the supermarket alone during this period. The perfectionist might also show a proclivity towards unnecessary purchases (pilgrim shaped salt and pepper shakers, for instance) that she thinks, in her delusion, will contribute to the success of the event.  The only way that a Marthaphobic can escape this wearying stage is by giving up control and giving into:

#3) Delegation:  Delegation requires a loosening of the death-grip the hostess holds on every detail of the event. It's best to start small. Asking a guest to bake a pie (perhaps an extra, back-up pie) is a good way to begin. As more guests offer to contribute dishes, the Marthaphobic will realize that full responsibility for the success of the dinner is no longer hers to bear. She will relax, grow comfortable making requests of others, and gradually gain a communal view of the event. In severe cases, the Marthaphobic will relieve herself of all cooking in order to focus on the scouring of the house. (In my case, I got rid of everything but the turkey and the cranberry sauce during this stage: good decision!)

From this point, the Marthaphobic can conclude the episode with one of the following three stages:

#4a) Combustion: the Marthaphobic stresses out so badly that her nerves short-circuit before guests arrive, so that she is bedridden during the event.
#4b) Intoxication: the Marthaphobic sheds her fear of hostessing along with her correct perceptions of reality. and consoles herself by flirting with furniture.
#4c) Elegance: The Marthaphobic can assumed a relaxed, welcoming demeanor that puts her guests at ease and removes all concern about trivial details like scorched pot holders, gizzard consumption, and gravy spills.

In my own recent experience, a combination of 4b and 4c got the job done. (What is that? Intoxigance? Elegation?) Despite numerous nay-sayers ("That turkey will never fit in your pan", says Roommate's Mother) and setbacks ("The neck is still frozen in the cavity and pouring warm water up it's butt isn't helping!" says Supportive Boyfriend) our Thanksgiving was a great success.