The Gift of Distraction
Our house, the one with the lively garden and wicker rockers out front to welcome guests and a comfortable patio in back, is a place we love to share with others. We enjoy the laughter of friends and family, the snacks, meals and frenetic activities that seem to bubble up. There are house rules for cards, which sometimes come from their house not ours, and a guest room full of snowflakes and penguins to remind guests that if they stay too long, things might get chilly.
During the holidays I tend to either over- or under-decorate, depending on my schedule. But there are some things that always appear, like the angel wearing a jute gown that has been the tree topper since I was 4 years old and our ever-famous Christmas shorts, which were tacky before ugly-sweater parties were a thing. There are must-have foods and foods that only one person likes, but I make them anyway because sometimes the best gift you can give is the gift of preparing a treasured recipe. Porcupine Balls and Son-of-a-Gun in a Sack are two of those recipes, and it makes me wonder who names these things. Well, the second one was named by my great-great grandma, who apparently had quite a mouth on her. I am glad to carry on that honored tradition.
While this all sounds warm and wonderful — the welcome, the laughter, and the nibbles — it is as true at my house, as it probably is yours, that there are people I would rather see go than stay. Then there’s the house itself. We have unfinished remodeling projects, a box of tools and gadgets in the hallway for said projects, and a wall that has never seen the finishing coat of paint. I’ve not, even after 20 years in this house, figured out what to do in the master bath, and the housekeeper does a great job of cleaning the stove on Tuesday, but I mess it up by Wednesday. My husband says this is just life in a happy home. I say it is a problem.
And the guests. The ones we must invite but can’t, even though we try, see eye to eye with politically, faithfully, or even food-wise, well, they always show up, sometimes arriving late, which does nothing to improve my opinion of them. One group has the proclivity to show up so late that we often tell them the event is the day before it actually is going to happen. Still, I smile through it all, and when my dentist suggested I might want to ease up on the teeth grinding, I discovered the art of distraction, which is probably the best art there is in my life.
You see, as a team builder, I pride myself on everyone in the room thinking I vote like they vote, eat like they eat, and pray like they pray. This isn’t subterfuge. It is possible, if we try, to find commonalities in each of those areas while still being true to ourselves. And when you can’t find commonalities with the crazy aunt or pushy uncle, that is where distraction comes in.
Here are a few of my favorite distraction techniques, and if you are, by chance, a regular guest in my home, please stop reading now. I really do love you, even if things are not always as they seem.
First, tame the TV. In a world of rabid sport and political rivalries, it is best to avoid digital triggers. You can tame those triggers by running on a loop a slide show of favorite events and family photos. The “coolest” of you, which I will attempt to be this year, will build a video with several portals into treasured memories, so while Uncle Sal looks to the upper left vacation photos, Aunty Em is looking at the baby pictures in the middle of the screen. A little something for everyone keeps them engaged, curious and distracted from the latest goings-on in a world gone mad.
Second, give them a job. It is true that idle hands are the devil’s workshop, so have a little fix-it-project for the family know-it-all or a complicated salad to assemble for the one who can’t stop poking the family buttons. Involvement in these time-consuming projects can also slow down the family drinker, and it is worth the price of breaking the vacuum just so it can be fixed when rum is on the run. (If you are the family drinker remain calm, you get to make the house rules and dole out the punch. Fill your glass first.)
Third, photo scavenger hunts are a great way to get everyone laughing and keep them distracted from hot topics. Held indoors or out, you can make a list of generic ideas and let teams (assigned at random or in retaliation, you decide) hunt for the perfect photo. Imagine the laughter as small groups “wear an unwearable gift,” “discover a holiday disaster,” or “pose for a Christmas Album cover.” Sharing these photos will be as much fun as taking them was and this creative distraction is exciting for any age!
The fourth idea means you will get a few eye rolls at first, but stick with me. Each person chooses an item from a bucket of miscellaneous do-dads. These items can be toys, logo gifts from trades shows, tools or kitchen gadgets. In my bucket of do-dads, a plastic sheep, a multipurpose tool and a hair clip are things that get chosen every time. Once everyone has selected their item, they get to use it as a prompt to tell a funny story or share a memory the item triggers. It doesn’t matter what they choose. After the first story or two, the laughter and the hugs will take over and you will forget that your pesky nephew should have worn clean socks. (Imagine having the rum drinker wrap these items so they are chosen completely at random!)
For the fifth distraction, (which sounds like a book title), I want to address the messy room, the weird hole in the wall, the bathroom that still needs remodeling. You can distract the eye with soft lighting, throw pillows or strategically placed holiday décor, or, you can say —and this is what my husband wants me to say — “That right there is just evidence of a happy home.”
What I have learned, after years of hosting and being hosted, is that no one cares. No one, (well no one who matters), looks to see if your baseboards are dust free or your plates match. No one cares that you didn’t finish the laundry, that the wall is the wrong color or the shade is a little wonky. All they care about is that they are with you. They are laughing, nibbling and being insulated from the differences in our world because you used the art of distraction gently. And while nibbling, laughing and making a new memory, I hope the commonalities you share, the love, the hope, the joy of being together, is what gets carried forward until the next time you are in the same space.
