Ah, family. That’s what this time of year is all about, right?

Family is huge part of my books. Like me, my heroines place a lot of value on family. And like the families in my books, my own family is riddled with inside jokes, ancient wounds and habits so ingrained not even a back hoe could change them. So, in honor of the holidays, here are a few little glimpses into my family life.

When my in-laws visit, McIrish hides. He heartily denies this, but it’s true, and besides, I’m blogging and he’s not. But when his parents visit, he just fades away. I find him hours later, leaning against the furnace, chatting with one of his brothers. Or he takes out the garbage, which makes him remember that his truck’s oil needs a’changing, and apparently it can’t wait another minute. During this time, this hour or so of absence, I get the inside skinny on his large family back in Ireland — who had the new baby, who’s taking a trip, who’s sick, who’s getting married. Later, when I update him on these events, he’s always a little irritated that I know more than he does.

As a group, we are incapable of ordering in restaurants. I am extremely blessed in that I live close to New Haven, where pizza was invented. My aunts and uncles and siblings and cousins all like to get together a few times a year and visit Modern Apizza on State Street, where allegedly Jesus goes for pizza, because that’s how good it is. When the waitress comes, there’s a flurry of contradiction — “I didn’t say I wanted eggplant! But if you want eggplant, that’s fine with me. But get what you want. I’m fine. I’ll eat anything.” The proper response to this is, “Well, I don’t care. I also like everything. Get what you want.”  The waitress sighs loudly. Inevitably, when the pizzas come,  someone’s disappointed. “We didn’t order eggplant on anything? Oh. Well. I happen to love eggplant, but…”

My family is loud. What I love — and what I’m guilty of myself — is how everyone thinks everyone else is loud. My own dear mother still shouts into the phone, especially when talking to her brother in California, as if my uncle needs her to yell so he can hear across the miles. My darling aunt from Massachusetts can be heard from, well, Massachusetts. My uncles laugh so loudly that people jump and cower.

The people in my family regress when together. Suddenly, my ultra-mature and very brilliant daughter is showing just how far her eyes can cross. My son is eating under the table, like some poor feral raccoon. My sister does her medley of strange faces and animal noises (very well, I might add). I myself demonstrate my great talent of dangling a spoon from the end of my nose. Genius.

By the end of the holidays, I’m longing for solitude…until one of my relatives calls, that is, and says, “Hey, we’re getting together…you in?” To which I instantly reply, “Absolutely!”

Any odd family traditions or traits in your gang? Are you longing for your relatives to go home, or are you the type who can’t get enough family time?