Saturday, April 4, 2009


I have a love hate relationship with holidays. I love them for the candy, presents, and cute decorations, but I hate being required to go to dinner at my moms for every one. Sometimes I just wish that we didn't have holidays at all, or that I lived on a different continent than my mom when they come around.

Yeah, it's that bad.

Since I was young, I remember my mom being a raving bitch for every single holiday. She gets up at the crack of dawn to start cooking and tries to get all Martha Stewart for a bunch of people who would be happy with a hot dog. There is the inevitable trip to the grocery store that I have to make to pick up the one item she forgot to purchase when she did her shopping for the event. Yup, even if it's just me and the kids coming, it's an event. Following that comes the bitch out for taking so long at the store, what did you do that it took so long and now everything is going to be overcooked by the time the whatever was missing the ingredient is done. Somehow she forgets that there is only ONE store open on major holidays and that everyone forgets one thing and they are all at that ONE store which is horribly understaffed because they gave everyone the day off because it's a HOLIDAY. Then there is the obligatory oohing and ahhing over the overly fancy food, because if you don't you are an ingrate, followed by the mandatory cleaning of the kitchen and washing up all the dishes because it would be just rude to make your hostess feed you and clean up after you too.

So here I am with Easter a week away, already having panic attacks about the upcoming event.

I thought about trying to weasel out of it, making other plans and telling my mom "Oh sorry, I didn't know you wanted to do something and so I made these plans", but I know she would see right through that one. If I was ordered to come over for dinner for a minor holiday like St. Patrick's Day, of course I should know without being ordered that I am required to be in attendance at Easter. So I'll keep my afternoon open and wait for my marching orders which I'm sure will arrive sometime next week.

Unless I could move to Australia before then.


just beth said...

honestly, would it be better to call her right this minute and tell her that you are inviting her to YOUR house for dinner? and then have your girls 'help' make a 'fancy' dinner 'for' her? im thinking pre cooked ham, whatever, but if the GIRLS did it, she couldnt be shitty about the un-fanciness?

of course, the mature thing to do would be to have a frank, no-bullshit convo about how you are done doing things this way, theyre too stressful, and that while you love and respect her, she will have to do things YOUR way from now on.

and right after you do and her head explodes, I'll have the same convo with MY mother. heh.

good luck hun.



Roxane said...

That stinks! I know what you are talking about though. My mom is always a ball of nerves during the holidays. As if any of us would care if everything wasnt perfect! Hang in there!