Christmas. A time for families, for togetherness, and for the spirit of giving. At least that is how I always thought it should be.
Today, we went to my parents house, or at least the orphanage where they work. It was supposed to be a time for the family to get together and celebrate Christmas. My wayward sister was going to join us for the first time in years. It was going to be a holiday to remember.
We got there around 1:30 right as lunch was coming out of the oven. Now because of all of my warnings, Ali knew that my mother cannot cook. She has a bad habit of burning the things that don’t go in the oven, and not cooking the things totally that go in the oven all the way through. So on the way, we stop at Jack in the Box and get burgers. Luckily we did not have to eat very much of it.
We had a fairly good time, watching the baby open his presents, and sitting around doing not much of anything. My sister called once to tell us she was going to be late, since they were working on their car. She called again to say the car was not getting fixed and she needed a ride. So at 5 my father set out to pick up my sister and her current live in guy.
At 6:30 apparently he told her that we were waiting for her at the house with my mom. And she lost it. She did not want to face us. She was turning in a true chicken shit moment. So instead of her returning home, my mother told us that we needed to leave. Let me repeat that. WE were tossed out on Christmas eve. My parents chose my crack head (literally), prostitute (again literally), disappearing sister over their other son and his family. So we left.
Granted my family has never really been good at holiday togetherness or really any other time of year togetherness. But this is the lowest form of, well I don’t really know what to call it.
So my family returned home. We made cookies for Santa and decorated them. We are watching Home Alone and tracking santa on NORAD while a fire burns in the fireplace. Hell with them. We are having Christmas.
I hope everyone is with the one they love this year, and may 2008 be a happy and bright one for you as well.
Now what did I do with my bottle of whiskey…Santa needs a nip.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
I know what to call that - douchebaggery. Oh, wait. Didn't your parents accuse you of having a meth lab in your garage...?? Maybe they think you're the one who got your poor, innocent little sister hooked on crack.
If my sons grow up to be anywhere near as good sons as you are, I'll be delighted. You deserve better. I'd adopt you if I could.
And I thought my family was bad... I say Eff em all, have fun and do your own thing.
Post a Comment