I know that parents wear many hats—Nurse, Teacher, Police Man, Taxi Driver, Midnight Diapernator—but I must have missed the chapter that describes the overwhelming duties of Tradition Keeper. This job comes with a ceremonial headdress that only an anthropologist could love.

Over the years I’ve tried my best to don this feathery albatross. I’ve kept the family’s oral history alive and archived photographs and birth certificates. I mail Christmas cards and bake birthday cakes. But it’s the holiday spreads that are making me feel browbeaten.

Take Thanksgiving, for example. Why spend a month planning and preparing a meal that is over in less time than it takes a 4-year-old to make a new friend on the playground? Ditto for ironing the tarp-sized heirloom tablecloth and shining the Benjamin Franklin-era silver.

Just because the Pilgrims did it, we have to do it? If the Pilgrims jumped off Plymouth Cliff, would we do that, too?

It’s time for a Thanksgiving make-over. Besides, if anyone can understand our quest for freedom from holiday persecution, it should be the Pilgrims, right?

My first suggestion is to create your own “I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-a-real-Thanksgiving” Thanksgiving.

My hero is that TV commercial mom who dusts her face with flour so she appears as if she’s been baking Rice Krispies all day. Well, douse me with gravy because here’s what I’m contemplating:

Buy Thanksgiving scented candles because nothing says tradition like the smell of home-cooked food. On the Monday before the Meal of the Year, light the candle named “Defrosting Turkey in A Sink of Cold Water.” On Tuesday, light “Pumpkin Pie Baked in Advance.” On Wednesday, burn two candles: “Bouquet of Sage and Sautéed Onions” and “Bubbling Turkey Stock.” On Thanksgiving, light them all at once along with “Great Grandpa Needs a Bath.”

In addition to the candles, invest in a set of autumn-colored Tupperware and hire a caterer. Insist that the caterer use the Tupperware. That way, the food can go straight from the table to the fridge.

Or, consider spicing it up.

Have you read those cooking magazines with articles about mouthwatering regional Thanksgivings? There’s the Cajun Thanksgiving with deep-fried turkey; the Tex-Mex Thanksgiving with cranberry avocado salsa; and the French Thanksgiving with chestnut-stuffed guinea hens, rosemary-roasted potatoes, and celery root. It’s food porn.

So close your eyes and point to the map. This year, my finger landed on the Hunan province of China. My planning includes collecting take-out menus and circling possible items for delivery.

No worries–you won’t be branded with the scarlet letter like Hester Prynne for cheating on the turkey with the sesame chicken. But if you are branded, think of the “A” as standing for Asian fusion. Plus, Asian fusion looks fabulous served in autumn-colored Tupperware.

If it’s true that it takes 30 days to create a new habit, then in 30 years your family won’t remember a time when they didn’t say what they were thankful for over five-spice turkey with lotus leaf rice dressing.

Or finally, consider a casual tailgate Thanksgiving.

The dress code is football jerseys, which makes it more comfortable for every one to over eat. Use eye black under each eye to reduce the glare off the automobiles and from grandma, who won’t approve. If you’re feeling festive, write “Happy” under the right eye and “Thanksgiving” under the left.

And luckily, autumn-colored Tupperware is perfect for tailgating.

By adopting one of these traditions or downsizing your own, you’ll spend less time as the Tradition Keeper and have more time for things you enjoy. Run a 5K, or if Turkey Trots aren’t your thing, participate in the only part of the traditional Thanksgiving that I highly recommend keeping—the Turkey Cot, otherwise known as the best nap of the year.