The turkey's ready to be thawed. The refrigerator has been stocked.  Extra chairs have been borrowed. Even a new tablecloth has been purchased.

I'm ready for the invasion.

My family is doing the invading, driving down from the land to the north and up from the sunshine state to spend Thanksgiving at our house. Although I am thankful that we can use my home as the host site, it is interesting to note that I never actually extended the official invite for a Thanksgiving dinner at our home.

I would have. I was planning on it. But I was not given the chance.

My family took the initiative and just sort of made their plans. They each took turns phoning, letting me know when they would be arriving and where they would be staying. And while I was happy to accommodate them, I was a bit concerned, for I had not  broken the news to Really Big Guy.

He would, of course and as usual, graciously comply. But as the man of the home, he had deserved the courtesy of a heads up, if only so much as to give the appearance that he does have some say in the matter.

I decided to break the news on my birthday, knowing full well that you can't get upset for not being part of the decision when you're reeling from a sugar high brought on by 2 inches of buttercream icing and Oreo crumbs towering above a gigantic vanilla cupcake. His only comment was to point out the obvious, which was that we hadn't discussed hosting Thanksgiving.  So he was curious as to how the family had gotten the impression that they were invited.

And herein lies the root of the problem. I'd left the door slightly open. 

At some point in our parenting career, we are taught a lesson about the dangers of leaving a door slightly open. I'm not talking about leaving your front door unlocked. Or your adult bedroom door ajar when it should be closed. I'm talking about when those children of ours catch us off guard. Or in a weak moment. Or when we haven't yet made up our mind.

I have learned that a kid who forgets to bring a book home from school, to put the milk back in the fridge after he pours a cup and to put his soccer net back in the garage will always remember if you say maybe, or worse yet, don't say no, to something they want. 

I have also learned that the repercussions of leaving the door even slightly open can be applied to extended family, especially when they live far away and want to visit. Frequently.

Don't misunderstand. I do love my mother, my sister and the whole rest of the gang. But while really Big Guy's family seems to do well with a number of months between visits, my family seems to think that if we don't physically connect every few weeks, they will surely die.  And if I don't pinpoint a date and time, they find creative ways to narrow it down, taking my wishy washy, noncommittal, up in the air answers as a yes.  Before I blink, it's full steam ahead. 

So when I spoke the words, "I think it will be fine to come for Thanksgiving..." to one family member, the rest of the sentence - the part when I told them I'd let them know for sure in a few days - got lost. And in its place were three phone calls within the next 48 hours from family, telling me of their itinerary.

Granted, I am happy they are coming. I would have nailed down the plans and extended the official invitation anyway.  But it's a little life lesson reminder.

If a door is not closed all the way, it's as good as wide open. 

Illyse appears Thursdays on TriangleMom2Mom.