Approximately 10 minutes after I hit “publish” on this post about how luxurious and lesiurely my vacation had been thus far, all hell broke loose. Well, not all hell, but a good bit of it. The husband called me to tell me that we needed to be at his mom’s house in about 20 minutes and that I needed to wrap all of the presents for that side of the family. What was amusing about that was that I had not showered in about two days (I think? There was no telling by that point…), the baby and I were still in pajamas and most importantly I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE FUCKING GOING ANYWHERE. I also couldn’t understand why we were going to have “dinner” at 1:30 in the afternoon and why I had no recollection of the husband informing me of this even though he insisted he told me about this on Saturday. Things got real mature at that point. I hung up on him and he called his mom and told her to call and nag me so I hung up on her and stomped around and screamed at the pile of laundry that had been mocking me since about, uh, August.
But I dutifully wrapped the presents in a whirlwind of tape and paper and put some kind of clothing on the baby and myself. We had dinner and presents and I squinted at the TV while Uncle Chuck and Aunt Gigi smoked Newports in the dining room.
The rest of Christmas Eve was fine and Christmas was cool, too. More about all that later. The day after Christmas was apparently Coma Day. I stayed up pretty late the night before watching Scrooged. We didn’t wake up until almost 12:30 pfuckingm and only because the baby, bless his heart, tapped me and said, “Mum, can I please have something to eat?” So I got up and did some of that parenting stuff for awhile and then while I was getting dressed, the cat jumped up on the bed, meowed at me and I couldn’t resist. I got back into bed and slept another three hours.
Then today we were supposed to go back to my grandparents’ house and visit with my cousins and their 5 billion kids but when we got in the car, the car said, “Chugga chugga chugga chugga ptttthhhhhhh.” So we were stranded at my mother-in-law’s house again and then she told her children to go down the street and exchange gifts with the neighbor’s 5-month-old baby who does not give a shit about anyone who does not have a teething ring at the moment. Amazingly enough, her children were blase about the whole thing and I ended up instigating that exchange. fuckers.
And I think my mom is conjuring up some other arbitrary social obligation for me to be pissy about, which should be interesting since, uh, we don’t have a car at the moment. Fun!