The Stages of Hosting a Holiday Party

Much has been written about the grieving process and most accept the theory that there are five stages of grief. Now that we are on the other side of the holidays or, more specifically for the purpose of this discussion, the other side of holiday entertaining, I realize that there are similarly a number of stages to the process of hosting a holiday party.The Stages of Hosting a Holiday Party

Much has been written about the grieving process and most accept the theory that there are five stages of grief. Now that we are on the other side of the holidays or, more specifically for the purpose of this discussion, the other side of holiday entertaining, I realize that there are similarly a number of stages to the process of hosting a holiday party.

The first stage typically arises prior to the rush of the holiday season. At some point after the first sparkling ornament makes its appearance in your friendly neighborhood department store and before the panic of holiday shopping hits, you decide that hosting a holiday party would be a lovely way to celebrate the season with your closest friends. You conjure up images of bright, happy people dressed in pretty, holiday attire sipping colorful, festive cocktails and dining on perfect, gourmet delicacies. Everything is clean and shiny and calm. I call this the euphoric stage.

Soon you are bombarded with the realities of the holiday season. Everything gets crazy. Each day is a manic cacophony of activity. You don’t know whether you’re coming or going. You can’t focus on anything. Gifts, wrapping, piano recitals, school parties, Christmas cards, the tree, the lights, Christmas cookies – OH MY GOD! It is impossible. There is no way you can get it together enough to host a holiday party. Even if you purchase everything from Costco the night before the event, it’s just not going to work. Why on earth did you send out those invitations? What could you possibly have been thinking? You have now entered the panic stage.

So you reluctantly decide that the only option is to cancel the party. As with a cancelled wedding, you will send out retraction notices to all guests. You will explain that it was all one big terrible mistake. There is to be no party after all. You realize you will be letting everyone down and will look like a complete failure to all of your friends. No one will ever trust a party invite from you again. You are now in the depression stage.

Wait! This is all wrong. You are not a failure at holiday entertaining. Ultimately, you resist the temptation to cancel the party, despite the attractiveness of that option. You can do this! You will do this! Everyone in the family will come together and as a team you will put on the most fantastic holiday party ever. I call this the acceptance phase.

So you start in with the preparations. You break the whole thing down into a manageable list of tasks. You create your menu and your grocery list. You begin the onerous task of cleaning the house. You enlist everyone’s help. And . . . you are shot down at every turn. Nobody wants to help. Nobody wants to clean up. Stuff is everywhere and not a single person sees a problem with this. You plead, you beg, you offer cash – still, your previously helpful and energetic kids have disturbingly morphed into lazy, useless couch potatoes after a five day marathon session of sugar and Santa-induced greed. They offer no assistance. In fact, they are angry. How could you ruin, yes ruin, their vacation by planning an event that will affect their reverie of computer-playing and general lounging about in pajamas? How can you expect them to put their things away? It is nothing short of child abuse. Your youngest son claims that the portion of the foyer piled high with his Christmas gifts is now an extension of his bedroom. Then you realize that your kids have located your secret stash of Christmas cookies in the basement refrigerator and all you have left for the party are two misshapen Italian wedding cookies. You are now smack in the middle of the “my family is useless and I hate them all” phase.

Then, somehow, by sheer will, hard work and determination, you pull it off. The house is clean, you have baked more cookies and candy to replace the ones eaten by your ungrateful children (and you found a better hiding spot), the decorations are all more or less where they’re supposed to be. You even find the time to shower and get dressed before the first guest arrives. Your children, for the most part, look somewhat presentable. Life is good. This would be the “I did it and I lived to tell about it” phase, or maybe the “I am woman, hear me roar” phase. I can’t decide.

And then it’s over. The party was a success! Everyone ate your food! Everyone was smiling and talking! People lingered! The last guest leaves and you reflect on the evening. What a joyous way to celebrate the holidays – surrounded by great friends. In the haze of good thoughts and perhaps a little too much alcohol, you decide that the preparations weren’t really all THAT bad. Plus, the house is nice and clean and all the gifts are put away. Really, you should do this every year. A holiday tradition! Ahh, nothing like the selective memory phase. But I suppose, if not for this phase, there would never be any more holiday parties. Thank God for selective memory.