Christmas in Wartime
Here’s my favorite Christmas Present:
The title is “
You know the artist.
O gave it to me of course.
I got him a combo bee veil-jacket. All he needs now is a smoker.
Oh, yeah, and the bees themselves.
So, the dirt. That’s what you really want.
Christmas didn’t happen. Not with O’s family.
The sister-in-law didn’t want all the cousins to exchange presents together, because Middle Child would get too excited. So, she dropped our Boyos’ presents at the bookstore. (Actually, had her mom bring them in.)
Of course, nobody had told us the plan.
So, we wrapped presents on Christmas Eve, and O took them to his sister’s house.
His plan, try to make nice. Wish her a Merry Christmas. See if we could come over early the next day, before my parents’ flight came in. Maybe, maybe, begin to mend fences, without kissing ass.
Remember, my parents’ arrival at dinnertime was proclaimed
by the sister.
O’s family has never done Christmas Dinner. It’s always been a daytime celebration.
All that changed when sister-in-law found out my parents’ plans.
Then it was Christmas Dinner or Nothing.
So, O went over. Got met at the door by the sister. He wished her a Merry Christmas.
She yelled at him.
She followed him back to the car.
He slammed the door shut, which embarrassed him. He hates losing his temper.
Dropped presents off at his parents’ house. Got a ration of shit. Invited his parents over on Christmas day. Came home.
Next day. The boyos were adorable, looking at their gifts from Santa before opening them. We played with tinker toys and power tools all morning.
O’s parents called. I invited them over, again.
“Oh. Well, I don’t know. I have to cook for J. for tonight.”
“Well. Ok. But if you change your mind…”
O got another ration of shit, holiday-wrapped. Seems his sister met him at the door, and politely asked him in to talk. He stormed away without an explanation.
One universe, many perspectives.
Well, I’m sticking to O’s view. Call it previous first-hand experience.
So, we spent Christmas together as a family of four. We waited most of the day to see if O’s folks would come over. Then the boyos wanted to go to the park, so we did.
Of course, that’s when his folks called.
Dad: “O. Give a call.” Click
We called back. They’d already left.
They said the next day that they’d wanted to come over, on their way to J.’s Ok.
So, my parent’s got in, and we had a nice Christmas night, opening more presents. They left yesterday. It was a good visit.
They babysat the boyos one night, while we went to a baby shower.
(Yet another friend with fertility problems. That makes 5, including myself.)
My mom invited O’s mom over. She got an earful about how we just don’t understand how hard it is to be J.
Twins are nothing.
The store going broke is nothing.
My family 1000 miles away is nothing.
Just like the infertility treatments were nothing.
The break-ins were nothing.
Getting fired for defending a 19-year-old girl from a 60-year-old pervert was nothing.
Ok. Exhales the petty bitterness. Inhale love and truth and beauty.
Ok. I’m done with the update. The boyos are finished with lunch, and want to play.
I think we’ll head out to the back yard. The weather is beautiful.
O’s gonna kill me for letting
Anyway, have a safe, fun, happy New Year.
I promise a bitter-free posting next time.
Yarg. This is why I don’t keep a journal.
Addendum: I'm not saying O and I are as blameless as new-born babes, and I'm not saying anyone has it easier (or harder) than anyone else. I'm just spouting here, because this is currently my only outlet. O gets embarrassed when he loses his temper, I feel the same when I whine. I'm blushing.