Warm Cookies With A Whiskey Chaser

The Perfect Mix of Comfort and Shenanigans

Blogroll Me!
100 Things About Me
Tinmen Don't Dance
Humble Sandwich
A Son from Another Mother; Matt
Auburn Pisces
Splenda In The Grass
the bokey chronicles
Jeffrey Ricker
Rocket Man
The Beauty of All Things
No Milk Please
A Life In The Day
Shadow Footprints
Scott B Blog
Seth Hancock Photography
Famous Author Rob Byrnes
Watersea's Ocean Bloggie
Cheap Blue Guitar
Does This Mean I'm A Grownup?
Upside Down Hippo
Loose Ends

Monday, December 27, 2004

Warning: Not the Pua you know and Love

There. You've been warned. The usual sweet Pua is not writing this entry. Her evil twin has temporarily taken over her body and will now say things that may shock and disappoint you. Screw it. I don't care. I'll probably go to hell.

I've just spent Christmas like I spent Thanksgiving. With my husband spending the last four nights at his mother's house. I wasn't happy. She didn't want to stay with us. She wanted to sleep in her own bed. And since her live-in caregiver was going home to spend the holiday with her own family, someone had to stay with the Mum-in-law. No one else was willing to take on the responsibility to stay with her and miss Christmas with their families. So we make the sacrifice. Again.

Granted, he did bring her over in the day and they'd leave at night...but that just made Christmas night a little less magical for me and the kids. We always spend Christmas Eve with our friends. Look forward to it every year. When my mom died, my dad left, and Charlie's father was just a miserable asshole grinch, we basically had no family to spend Christmas Eve with. So our friends invited us into their family 12 years ago. A HUGE, Irish family throwing the king of all Christmas parties. They were gracious enough to invite Charlie's mom this year. She came with us, but she ate a bowl of chowder and decided it was time to leave. So the kids and I stayed for awhile and then went home; feeling a little guilty because Charlie couldn't stay and have fun with us. It just wasn't the same.

Charlie LOVES playing Santa. He gets the biggest kick out of helping me wrap stocking gifts and fill stockings on Christmas Eve after the ABC's have gone to bed. Then, Mrs. Santa gets her present; a nice little romp with my jolly old elf. Only this time I had to fill the stockings by myself, and then settle for a naughty midnight phone call. Fun, but again, just not the same.

Then comes Christmas morning. Charlie and I are usually the first ones up and then the kids wait for us to give them the go-ahead to run into the living room for presents. But this time, we all had to wait. And wait. And wait. HOURS. Charlie couldn't get his mom to stay on track getting ready. It took her three hours to take a shower and get dressed. He called me 3 times apologizing profusely. I told him he had nothing to apologize for. He was being a great son. I hope she realizes it. By the time they got here, it was nearly 10 am. We're usually done with presents and are on our way to Charlie's sister's by then. Mostly, the kids felt sorry for Charlie. They know how much he loves to be with us and how much it was killing him to miss waking up here for Christmas morning. They also know how difficult his mom can be.

We got through it. Still had a wonderful day and counted our blessings. At one point, some dear friends came over and brought a plate of goodies. The wife of the couple happens to be like me; she has a bit of a weight issue. However, she'd recently had gastric bypass surgery. I haven't seen her in months. She looked absolutely fantastic and I told her so. She smiled and thanked me, explaining that she'd now lost 100 pounds in 6 months. I could tell she was feeling quite wonderful. I reintroduced she and her husband to Mum and after some pleasantries and holiday wishes, they departed. Mum says; "Who was that woman? I don't know her." I explained that she did know her and she'd met her before, but she probably didn't recognize her because she'd lost so much weight; a hundred pounds in 6 months! To which Mum replied; "Well, she could lose about a hundred more." I was mortified. Usually, I'm pretty mild mannered and I let stupid things she says slide. But since I was already not happy that my husband wasn't getting the full holiday treatment he deserved, and we'd already been through this for Thanksgiving, AND that she just said something offensive about one of my friends, I lost it.

Me: Mum, that was a horrible thing to say!

Mum: I know. Please don't tell on me.

Me: I'm sorry but that was completely uncalled for. Lanie is one of the most beautiful people I know. She's sweet, kind-hearted, and lovely. How DARE you say something as shitty as that about one of my friends. If you talk that way about my friend, I can only imagine what you say about me and my weight behind my back!

Mum: I know Honey. I'm sorry. You know me; I say stupid things sometimes.

Me: Yeah. Well I suggest you try and not talk.

Just then, Charlie asked me what she had said. Mum asked me again not to "tell on her". Fuck that, I thought. I told him. He looked at her and said; "I'm ashamed of you, Mom. And you should be ashamed of yourself."

That was just Christmas morning. It continued that afternoon and evening at Charlie's sister's house. Mum would say senile, stupid things to people and everyone would brush it off as the ramblings of an old woman. Then, again, poor Charlie had to leave when Mum said she was tired and wanted to go home. I go home to a cold bed, and he goes home with her.

I know it's selfish of me. I can't help it. I keep thinking how we were so looking forward to this time in our lives. The kids are to the point where they can look after themselves and we can run away for romantic weekends. But no. Mum always has to be looked after and it always falls to us. I feel like I have a new infant in my life. If she lived with us, at least he wouldn't have to spend so much time away from home.

I wish things were different. I miss my husband. I hate the toll this is taking on us, our kids, our family. I hate that I'm being so selfish. Ya know, I may be going to hell. But I'm not going alone.


Post a Comment

<< Home