Thanksgiving and Christmas plans will be the topic of discussion for the next few weeks. We all ask each other the same questions: Are you hosting this year? How many people are you cooking for? Are you traveling? I do the math in my head when friends rattle off who will be joining them at their home, or at their mother’s house, for a holiday meal. Carry the two, plus three–that’s 49 people!

Large families are synonymous with Utah and it appears most folks have a handful of relatives within driving distance, if not their entire tribe. I think this is fantastic. The idea of giant family gatherings during the holidays–perhaps an opportunity to party hop–appeals to me. Lucky ducks! is what I say.

My husband and I come from small families, and all of our extended family live in other states. With three children, we prefer to stay home for Thanksgiving and Christmas–our kids are high maintenance travelers. Two have type 1 diabetes, one is outgrowing allergies, and the little guy was born ornery. When family is unable to join us for a holiday, we invite transient friends to celebrate with us. And occasionally, it’s been just us. “Just us” has resulted in some sweet memories, and a few glad-that’s-over long days.

Several years ago I was discussing Thanksgiving plans with a neighbor. He asked how we were spending the holiday and I told him in my best woe-is-me voice that we would be alone. My neighbor’s eyes lit up and he said longingly, “Oh, that sounds nice. We have to make an appearance at multiple houses.”

His wife, who was unloading groceries, overheard and walked toward us slowly like I’d just shared the location to the Fountain of Youth. She added, “And we’re expected to eat something at each place. We get home late, the kids are exhausted and we’re all stuffed.”  She looked at her husband, then continued, “We’ve talked about how nice it would be to spend a holiday with just our children, but it won’t happen. Unless we move.”

Then together, the three of us turned our faces towards the horizon and became lost in wishful thought for a moment. My neighbors fantasizing about the Fountain of Youth, and I about what it must be like to land in an Andy Williams Christmas Special.

I’ve had many chats with LDS friends about holiday logistics. If they’re hosting I hear about the house scrub, food prep or dish delegation, seating procurement, kid shine, and general atmosphere/tablescape design and implementation. If they’re not the host (sounds dreamy to me), I hear about the travel schedule, transportation complexities of various pies, pacing strategies so that valuable stomach space is not wasted at any one place, and still, the kid shine.

My friends aren’t really complaining. But I think people have been sincere when they express their desire to plan a holiday with only their nuclear family. Just once.

We’ve had a handful of solo (non-extended) family holidays over the years. When relatives are unable to join us, friends either find their way to our house or we find our way to theirs. And although I come from a small lineage, I’ve been around long enough to have experienced hosting a large gathering as well as taking our spiffy kids and transporting The Dish to someone else’s party. I’ve seen the pros and the cons to a variety of fiesta blueprints. But the majority of my holiday stories involve ten people or less.

If you’ve never had a nuclear family holiday and desire one, there are certainly memories to be made. But, just like the straight-haired girl who wants a wad of curls on her head and the curly-haired girl who pines for a silky straight mane, sometimes we fail to fully appreciate the gorgeousness on our own heads.

So to my LDS friends with large families and close-residing relatives, embrace that Rapunzel-like thatch!

How? Enjoy the full day, conversation and laughter, bloated bellies, pies with scuffed meringue, overjoyed-to-see-you parents and grandparents, and exhausted children at the end of the day. We’ll carry you over the finish line if you ever invite us. And we’ll provide a smaller–but equally joyful–holiday if you join our family. Just don’t all come at once. Easter anyone?

Chrisy Ross is the author of To Mormons, with Love: A Little Something from the New Girl in Utah. She lives in Alpine with her husband and three sons, and blogs at ChrisyRoss.com.