The Problem
Brigid wrote, urging us not to dismiss her, but saying she needed a tactful and devious way to make her Christmas Day less of a strain.
She has a husband whom she regards as being much her superior. Mainly to please him, she has always gathered the family around her, with all the signs of being delighted to do so.
This year she is feeling tired and, for the first time, a little resentful. She has to entertain 17 members of the family on the day, none of whom apparently help her at all. She wants a diplomatic solution, not a confrontation.
THE world is full of people who say, with bright eyes and gritted teeth, that things which are backbreaking and exhausting, are no trouble at all. We've all done it at times - that's what a bit of normal generosity is all about. Nobody needs a pat on the back for minimising the effort that goes into the warmth of hospitality.
Who wants to go to a place where they tell you they spent four hours shopping, five hours cleaning, six hours cooking and have lost sight of the time it will take to wash up?
But on the other hand, if the pretence that everything is no trouble has been too good, if the image of maniacally cheerful "superwoman" has been too successfully created, then it can't be cast off too quickly without some bad feeling.
Suppose you knew someone who absolutely loved making a feast, so much so that you genuinely thought to offer assistance would be an intrusion, an attempted improvement, a possible criticism even - then surely you would be very startled with an outburst about nobody ever bothering to get up off their bottom to give a hand. It would always leave a sour taste. You might feel ashamed and wish you had been able to see through the disguise. Or else you might feel resentful, misled, surprised, even annoyed, that no appropriate signals had been given up to now.
If the only alternative to more and more wearying years of exhaustion is to have a confrontation, then Brigid is quite right to ask for tactful and devious ways out of her situation.
She specifically asked readers not to patronise her and think that she is a victim, which is both good and bad. It means she does know how over-humble she might appear to younger or more courageous folk. And that is good. But it also means she is not going to tackle and change the subservient relationship that she has maintained for years. And that is bad.
Your letters reflect that what Brigid is looking for is some kind of soothing way she can change deck-chairs on the Titanic. She's hoping for more wallpaper to put over the cracks, she doesn't want an architect's opinion that the house is about to fall down and take her with it unless she does something drastic.
Thirty years ago in a small town Brigid must have known days and nights of fear and panic in case this man might not marry her. She did not have the luxury of wondering would they love each other and live together well as a couple. All she had was the sheer relief that life as she knew it wasn't over, and that a man she considered her superior had not only taken her on, but actually stayed with her as well.
Cooking and serving up an exhausting dinner without help so that he will look good is not such a big price to pay for all that security, is it? And in Brigid's defence she is not alone in this feeling that she must cope, and cope alone.
I remember when I ran the Women's Page of this paper, around the time Brigid was getting married, we got hundreds of letters from panic-stricken women saying that they wanted nothing fancy in the cookery pages. They wanted a fail-safe Christmas timetable and list. I had the image of thousands of homes, where loving families disguised as culinary police waited to make judgment on what was produced from the kitchen.
I still don't get the whole competitive, wearying, striving-for-perfection thing I will see written all over the faces of women pushing trollies around supermarkets for the next three weeks. You will see it too - if you raise your eyes from the shelves and look at their expressions. But then I have charitable people to live with, and spend my Christmas days with. None of this will help Brigid. She may get some cheer and courage from all your advice about asking people to share and being more assertive. She may.
But not between now and this Christmas. I think if she could have asked people to help she would have done so by now. I think if she were going to be assertive it would have happened before. If a boat has remained unrocked for 30 years I honestly don't see much immediate rocking movement ahead.
Tempting though it is to bark some short nanny like command at her - get real - get a life - get a backbone - get them all to help, I have a different solution.
My Advice
Brigid, you used two words - tactful and devious - to describe what you wanted as a solution. Okay, you won't get much more seriously devious and dishonest than this.
Concentrate entirely on the shopping and the kitchen: you have three weeks in which to do this. Tell your husband you have become a devotee of lists and countdowns and then type out a plan of campaign. You know the kind of thing - peel potatoes, do sprouts, make bread sauce - the things that no one except a zombie would want on a wall after cooking 30 Christmas dinners. But you need to do this for the plan
Every day, between now and Christmas, tidy some further bit of your kitchen so that all the drawers are beautifully tidy and lined, and that there are no disgusting, sprouting bags of forgotten potatoes behind the cat food away at the back somewhere.
Lots of detergent, pot scrubbers, Jcloths, clean tea-towels, disinfectant, black rubbish bags, all at the ready. The fridge cleared up from cluttery things except for the things needed for the feast, such as brandy butter (bought of course, but decanted into one of your own dishes). For the next three weeks, lie to your husband. You've been doing it for years, so this extra bit won't matter. Tell him how simple and wonderful a Christmas dinner is to make once there are typed lists on the wall, stress how you love the family being here and add that the horrible twinge in your spine will be well gone before the day.
And on Christmas Eve night at 8 p.m., when it is too late for them to make alternative plans, your bad back comes on. Big time. Take to the bed. Listen to him phoning them to come a little earlier, take no notice of the tone of his voice, read your book and ask to be helped to the bathroom, groan and lean on him.
Thank him piteously for all his goodness. Now, careful Brigid. Make sure that the groaning isn't bad enough for him to get an ambulance, but bad enough to know it is not going to respond to painkillers. Then the next day, close the bedroom door tight. Allow them to help you down to lunch, praise them to the skies and say that it is better than it ever was, and who needs gravy, thank them handsomely. Work out from your chair of pain a washing-up rota for them. Thank them again. Tell your husband it was the best Christmas ever, and what how wonderful, heart-warming, or whatever, it was, the way everyone joined in.
Then, in the first 12 months of the next century, work out how you are going to spend the rest of your life. If you need a bit of a kick-start, I could show you dozens of letter saying I must tell Brigid the only way her husband is superior to her is in her own foolish mind and possibly in the, happily outdated, attitudes of another era.
And for the women, who really do get bad backs this Christmas Eve, my sincerest apologies in advance. But I know you'll never forgive me.
Your Advice
Get a life. Come out from under the shadow, start looking in the mirror and tell yourself you are worth it and beautiful. Stop being so grateful. How bright is the hubby? Not as perceptive as you as he still thinks they want to come, not just as a favour. You, I suppose, are his rock and he is the lucky one. Get assertive, keep looking in the mirror.
Regarding Christmas Day, give lists of shopping a week or two before to the children. Come clean, tell your loyal but lazy children the truth. Arrange one to bring the pudding, one to bring the starter, one to set the table. Perhaps they will still think it worthwhile to come, even if laden, and giving a little back in effort. Failing this develop a bad back/bad leg.
Brigid, you are worth it, Get firm and take it easy.
- Ann O'Leary, Kinsale, Co Cork
POOR woman, she will obviously not get any help from her family, therefore she needs another pair of hands - a sort of surrogate teenage-granddaughter who will help with preparations and hopefully with the cleaning up - for a generous sum.
- Dorothy Pendry, Kesh, Co Fermanagh
Firstly, you did not get pregnant on your own, Brigid. Secondly, the image I have of this woman's life is of someone who lives in a cocoon, with little or no communication with those around her. She is stuck in the past, but being only 50, she is still young enough to begin a new and richer phase in her life.
Don't be afraid to ask for help. Of the 16 or 17 people sitting around watching you kill yourself, there have to be some of them who would love to give a hand, but maybe you give the signal that you like doing it your way. Ask for help. Include people. The enjoyment of the occasion may be increased for everyone - you included. Perhaps next year you will begin in good time to discuss alternatives - perhaps taking turns to visit each others' houses. Too many of Ireland's kitchens are filled with the smell of burning martyr. You are the only one who has the power to change things.
- Margaret Ward, Crumlin, Dublin 12
WHY do you think yourself inferior to your husband? Just because he has a good job and makes lots of money? You make yourself out as a child depending on its parents for everything. By saying he has a general quickness of mind, are you implying that you are slow and stupid? You are putting yourself down by saying you feel inferior to your husband. First of all, talk to your husband. Tell him you are not going to do all the work this Christmas. Your guests do not come as a favour to you, they come so they don't have to cook the Christmas dinner and clean up afterwards. Can you not see through them? Cooking dinner for 17 people all on your own is worth doing, I think not!
If your husband disagrees with this, tell him there will be no guests invited then. When you are inviting your guests, tell them that if they come they must help in the cleaning, cooking and shopping. If they are unhappy with this plan, tell them they can have dinner in their own houses. Don't let people push you around.
- Cathy Healy (14), Newbridge, Co Kildare
THE reason Christmas traditions survive is because they are handed down from one generation to the next. Perhaps this year Brigid may let her relations know she wishes to pass on the "family secrets" to ensure their survival into the next generation. She could create quite a ceremony for this imparting of knowledge, but it could mean that her Christmas may continue with a new generation.
It is perhaps also advisable that Brigid should not be too proprietorial about "her" dinner. As I am sure she realises the sacrifices cooking demands, she should not be overly critical of her newly recruited accomplices.
- Donal Keane, Duncormick, Co Wexford
YOU must be smart, intelligent and have worked hard to have reared a family of four, so don't sell yourself short. Be assertive. Book your Christmas dinner for the two of you in a hotel. Tell him you need to relax with him away from all the fuss of Christmas. You will love it. Casually announce your plans to your family. Forget what happened 30 years ago. You are a winner. Anyway, who today do we call superior in class? The very ones we once looked up to have gone down in our estimation.
- E.J.C, Glasnevin
AFTER 30 years of running a home, rearing a family, keeping gravy hot and feeling inferior, the time has definitely come for a change.
So how about being honest and telling them all how tired you are feeling lately? Maybe everyone could contribute, like someone take complete charge of desserts and someone else do all the clearing and washing up. Divide the chores (don't call them chores) evenly between your four children. As a last resort you could get a fictional pain in your back/leg/foot and pay a supposed visit to your doctor who would tell you to keep it raised (not your back of course) for a week or so, particularly over the Christmas period. Think of yourself, Brigid, for once, and don't be apologetic about making changes.
- J. MacN, Dublin 9
I am appalled that Brigid's family treats her like a galley slave, and frankly, I am also rather appalled with Brigid for not taking a stand. However, there is an easy and pleasant solution. In Brigid's neighbourhood there are bound to be a couple of cash-strapped teenagers. Hire them. Get then to come in the day before the Christmas lunch to help with shopping and cleaning and again on the day itself. Make them help with cooking and serving.
Then sit back and relax. Perhaps you'll begin to realise why your husband enjoys entertaining. Best of luck.
- M. MacDonald, Ballsbridge, Dublin 4