I considered jumping on board the “30 Days of Gratitude” train but somehow couldn’t find the energy for it. While I may not share my appreciation with others, I still realize how very lucky I am for the life I lead each and every day. Shouting it to the Universe felt somewhat redundant to me. However, there is a related area where I do believe I could use some personal work. And lately, in this regard, I have been thinking about turning Thanksgiving on its head.

I am talking here about better managing my First World Problems.

So rather than being mindful about expressing gratitude, I am planning to curb my grievances about all issues unworthy of criticism. As it turns out, this concept, I am told by my kids, is also a full-fledged Internet meme. Check this out:

Entertaining? Indeed. But there is a serious message embedded in the humor. Reminding one another about the FWP nature of our complaints is this generation’s version of “At least you have your health.” We nod in agreement and then go right back to bitching and moaning about the fact that Trader Joe’s was out of their Rosencrunch and Guildenpop caramel corn.

Oh the humanity.

My personal list of First World Problems is long indeed. In recent weeks I have taken to my bed (yes, really) due to stress associated with my job, Chase’s upcoming bar mitzvah, and my lack of ability to manage it all without consuming large amounts of carbs. Shame on me. I am employed. I have a kid who will celebrate a wonderful event and have saved enough money to throw him a terrific party. I have food in my fridge, which is running thanks to the electricity being pumped into my house.

I think Hurricane Sandy was a wakeup call – at least for us East Coasters – to be careful what we complain about. People who went without electricity for a week were mostly quick to preface their experiences with, “but at least I have a home left.” Those whose homes were washed away were also quick to share that “at least we are alive.” All it takes is one horrible event to shift your perspective, wishing that First World Problems were all you had.

The other day I was watching a HuffPo video about a family whose young daughter was diagnosed with early onset schizophrenia. The story was heartbreaking but I was mostly struck by what the father, Michael Schofield who has written a book about his experience, shared at the end of the piece. It was advice to parents who might be going through the same challenges, but it is a stark reminder to us all.   He said “any day where the end of the day comes and your family is still alive and in one piece, it’s a good day.  Roger that.

I have always said that “sweating the small stuff” is a luxury for which we should be grateful.  So this Thanksgiving, perhaps instead of going around the table and sharing what we are thankful for, maybe we might offer one or two examples of complaints we promise never to make again. I’m starting my list today.

Happy Thanksgiving MoB readers. May all of your problems be of a First World nature this holiday season.

Dysfunctional [dis-fuhngk-shuh-nl] – adj 1. not performing normally; 2. having a malfunctioning part of element 3. behaving or acting outside of social norms.

Talk about dysfunctional Thanksgivings!  I have been to some doosies in my lifetime but this one has to be the most bizarre, mind-blowing one yet.  I should have been prepared because most of our Thanksgivings fall into this realm – but last night was particularly odd.  Consider the following:

1. The weather was outstanding.
2. Everyone arrived on time.  Nobody stayed too late.
3. The food was delicious, not a single dish ruined or forgotten in the oven.
4. Dave did not burn down the house while deep frying the best turkey we have ever had.
5. The children were well behaved and no one complained about having to sit at the kids table.
6. Everyone helped clean up.  No one sat on their ass watching football the entire evening.
7. All deep seeded anger, dark secrets, and festering grudges remained exactly where they needed to be – very, very deep.
8. The dogs did not accidentally ingest a box of Whitman’s sampler and subsequently go on a five room vomiting spree.
9. All of our families were there in full – with a few beloved friends to really make it a party.
10. No one overate to the point that they needed to lie down for the rest of the evening, never to be seen again.

What’s that?  Oh, you think this Thanksgiving sounds like a freaking Norman Rockwell paitning and where do I get the nerve to call it dysfunctional?  Well, MoB readers, I hate to break it to you but — here in America – dysfunctional is the new functional.  If you are not completely screwed up in some way – especially during the holidays – then you are NOT normal.  And since my biggest complaint from last night’s dinner is that people may have talked about how wonderful everything was a little TOO much (because compliments can get annoying after a while), we are officially DYSFUNCTIONAL. (see definition above).

Please don’t hate us.  It actually is really difficult not having ANYTHING to contribute at the water cooler Monday morning when co-workers are swapping war stories about farting uncles, belligerent cousins, and tacky friends.  Juicy turkey doesn’t even begin to cut it.

So MoB readers, I hope that all of your Thanksgiving celebrations were as dysfunctional as ours.  Please be sure to come visit next Wednesday as my 25^th high school reunion is tomorrow night and I’m planning on gleaning a little material.

Yesterday I heard an interview on NPR with Steve Poses, a food guru of Philadelphia who has a new cookbook.  He had lots of tips on cooking turkey and stuffing and such, but my favorite bits of advice were his hints on what not to do to your hosts on Thanksgiving.  The following four tips are actually a mash-up from several different radio guests.

1.  Don’t make more work for the hosts.  If you bring flowers, have them already arranged in a vase.  Nobody has factored time into the crowded holiday schedule for vase-searching, water-filling, and flower arranging.

2.  If you’re bringing food, have it already done.   Amen to this one!  When we host, my heart always sinks a bit to see guests coming in the door, juggling armloads of ingredients.  More counter space must be cleared, and  spoons and bowls found, and oven space created, and temperature settings mathematically calculated…In short, see above.  So, I will not be putting unbaked rolls and  an uncooked casserole in my friend Laura’s oven this afternoon, I will bring absolutely finished, glazed icebox rolls, and an already baked corn casserole. 

3.  Don’t congregate in the kitchen to talk.  Not on Thanksgiving Day.

4.  While gratitude is wonderful, perhaps save it for after the meal, or before dessert.  If you have a big crowd or even just one loquacious guest, and everyone goes around the table giving thanks, the food cools, the gravy congeals, and tempers being to smolder.  And nobody is grateful for that.

Bon Appetit!

A Holiday Quiz:  Please identify which of the following statements pertain to you.

At some point during this upcoming Thanksgiving weekend, I will: 

• Scream at the traffic in front of me yelling “DRIVE” because I am obviously the only person on the road who knows how to.
• Implore my kids to stop that!  Did you hear me?  I meant NOW!
• Lament too many or too few marshmallows on top of the sweet potato casserole.
• Bicker about: sit down vs. buffet, silver vs. plastic, canned vs. homemade; apple vs. pumpkin.
• Silently plead with the Universe to make my _______________ (fill in the blank:  husband, wife, mother, father, in-law du jour, crazy uncle) stop talking already.
• Curse my home football team.
• Curse the opposing team.
• Curse my child’s soccer team.
• Pester my husband to shave.
• Pester my wife to stop nagging.
• Suffer through the stores and wonder why I put myself through this every year.
• Fret about being late.
• Worry about being early.
• Regret inviting boorish or boring guests to dinner.
• Regret inviting dysfunctional family to dinner.
• Wish I never agreed to the dog.

If you answered “yes” to any of the above questions, congratulations.  Like me, you are officially sweating the small stuff and I encourage you to continue doing so at all costs.  Go ahead and be as petty as possible!! 

Bah humbug you say?   Not exactly.  A theory for the MoB readers to ponder:

For this weekend and every day, I think it is a true privilege to worry about petty things – i.e. things you won’t even remember a week from now.  Because if you are worried about petty things, that means that there is plenty of room in your worry chamber to fill with small stuff.  If you can bitch and moan about food and football, you know you have it pretty good.  It’s when the list above doesn’t matter anymore that perhaps things are not so good.  To those folks whose worry chambers are filled to the brim with big stuff, a prayer for you that someday soon your burden will be much lighter… comprised of tiny things like who ate the last piece of pie.

So tomorrow night when we go around the table and offer what we are thankful for, I for one, am so very thankful for all the meaningless griping.  Especially mine.