Chrisuckmas

Christmas always sucks for me. Which in itself sucks because I love Christmas, but apparently Christmas hates me. My earliest Christmas memory was at approximately 4 years old. I remember wishing and hoping for an Easy Bake Oven all year long, or, for what seemed like all year long; but at 4 years old it could have been a whole week, who knows. Anyway, the point is, I wanted that Easy Bake Oven and I was going to get that shit. So, all of a sudden it was Christmas Eve and time for bed. I was so excited I could barely sleep. Morning finally came and I ran to the tree to tear into my gifts. After ripping into gift after gift and tossing each one aside and moving onto the next; I get to the end of the pile and my mom says "Oh, look....there's one left" and there at the back of the tree was this giant box. It was so beautiful! This was it, I could feel it in my tiny bones like old people feel the rain coming! My very own Easy Bake Oven. I could finally bake treats in a flash all day long! I tore the wrapping paper off as fast as my little fingers could tear and revealed that glorious pink box and read those 3 little words EASY.BAKE.OVEN!!!!!!!!!! I screamed and began to jump up and down with so much excitement. "Wait.... open the box" my mom says with a nervous tone to her voice. I don't need to open it! I know what's inside!! Then I notice the look she gives my aunt. The "Oh shit, I'm in trouble look" and the world stands still. I don't know who opened the box or how it was opened but the next thing I remember is looking inside this giant empty box at a red and black puffy shirt with matching prairie style skirt. This memory has haunted me my entire life. Many years later, I remember having drunken sex with my future husband while my gay friend threw up in an Easy Bake Oven box nearby. I blame it on my mom. Both the being drunk part and the having sex before marriage. How else was I supposed to cope with the loss of my Easy Bake Oven? Maybe if I had gotten one I would have been at home baking mini brownies in a flash instead of riding my boyfriend into the vodka tainted sunset while a gay man slept on a couch nearby.

Unfortunately, things never really got any better as far as Christmas is concerned. On multiple occasions I found letters from Santa under the tree explaining that the reason I didn't get a scooter, a barbie mansion, or roller skates was because Rudolph was testing them out before Santa delivered them and the bitch broke them. It's a wonder I didn't turn out to be an avid hunter. Of course, several years later, my sister received all three of those gifts on one Christmas. When I pointed out that those were things I wanted when I was little my mom simply replied "I guess the Elves fixed them".

About 8 years ago, my husband (before he was my husband) had his own apartment. We decided to have our own mini Christmas before he left to go visit his parents in another state for the Holiday. I had put a lot of effort into getting him the perfect Christmas gifts. I was so proud of myself for purchasing the engraved flask and the stocking full of various sexy items for the extra merry Christmas send-off I had planned for him that evening. I couldn't wait for him to see the gifts I so carefully and lovingly chose for him. So, I let him open his gifts first. Then it was my turn, there was only one gift under the tree for me, he had several gifts under the tree for him. So I thought this single gift has to be pretty amazing since it's the only one, right? Wrong. It was a bottle of vodka. That's it. Just a bottle of vodka. Which, let's admit, was really for him anyway since he was going to, first help me drink it ,and then take sexual advantage of me after I drank half the bottle. Asshole.

The first Christmas we decided to actually spend together was a year after the vodka incident. He invited me to spend Christmas with him at his parents house up north. His mother had never been a huge fan of me, so I was extremely nervous. I put all my effort into buying gifts for his parents that I hoped they would like, it was really difficult considering I didn't know much about them other than the fact that they hated me. I decided I wanted to change their opinions of me. Voodoo dolls resembling me would probably be a big hit but wouldn't help my cause. A few days before Christmas we packed up and made the 12 hour drive to their house. We brought my dog with us, and as soon as we arrived at their house, my dog runs in and lifts her leg and pisses on a potted plant by the front door. While we are cleaning up the pee, the dog runs over and craps on the fireplace. Awesome! This was definitely the first impression I had in mind. Surprisingly, everything else went well. They seemed to like their gifts, or at least not hate their gifts. Although, they probably would have been happier with the voodoo dolls. They even bought a few gifts for me! Then it was time for Christmas dinner. My family is a little bit country so I was accustomed to eating Christmas dinner, buffet style, on a paper plate and sitting on the floor or wherever you could find a spot. The future in-laws do things a little differently. We ate dinner in the formal dining room with different courses of food and silverware we were supposed to use for certain courses. There were even name plates for 4 people!! What, is she afraid one of us will be seated next to someone we don't like? Then why the hell did she put me between her and her husband? I sit down at the table and find 2 forks, a spoon or 2 and maybe even a few different knives. There were also 2 plates and a bowl all stacked on top of each other all fancy like. The future mother in law made this disgusting carrot soup which she knew I didn't like but her son loves (by the way, this is the only time in 10 years she has made that disgusting soup so I'm pretty sure she did it to spite me), since she knew I wasn't going to have any soup she took my bowl back to the kitchen and told me it was okay for me to start eating the main course. I take the top plate and start loading it up. I look down and see all these utensils staring up at me. There are 2 forks! I quickly try to remember what the hotel concierge told Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman about the order of silverware when eating a fancy meal. I couldn't remember. So, I just picked one as quickly as I could before drawing attention to myself. I had already sat there staring at the forks long enough. I began to eat, I was enjoying my meal, then all of a sudden the future MIL looks over at me and says with a snooty chuckle, "You're using the wrong plate. That's for salad." I look down at my plate and notice the larger plate underneath. Since there wasn't a salad on the table I thought the bigger plate was just a decorative charger. Since I usually crack jokes when I'm nervous, I reply "Oh, I thought the larger plate was for dessert. My bad." Everyone laughs except her. Instead of laughing, she says "You're using the wrong fork too." At this point, I'm mortified and can't think of a joke because I'm too busy holding back tears. So, I simply say "I'm sorry" and continue eating. That night I got the shits. I'm convinced she poisoned my crab cakes since I was the only one eating crab cakes. I am funny about pooping. I try my hardest to keep it from being too obvious that I am pooping so I went to "take a shower" and pooped. I pooped so much it required multiple flushes so I flushed once, got in the shower, then got out of the shower and flushed again; but there were still dooky streaks on the bowl. So, I took one of her fancy disposable shower caps and covered my hand with it and used one of her fancy guest toothbrushes and scrubbed the poop streaks off the bowl and flushed a final time. I should have put the poo-poo covered toothbrush and shower cap back in their cute wrappings and neatly placed them back in the drawer. But I didn't. Or did I? Things were not going well at this point. I could not wait to go home. We left the next morning, I cried the entire 12 hour drive home.

Believe me when I say that things haven't changed. This year my in-laws are living with us. My father in law took a job near our house and they sold their home up north. They're in the process of buying a house near us and have been living with us while they house hunt. It's a pretty stressful situation. I'll go into detail another time. I've been stressed out for a number of reasons and pissed at my husband for several days now. I am so excited about Christmas this year since it is our daughter's first! I have been talking about decorating the tree for a few weeks now. Yesterday was the first opportunity my husband and I had to bring the Christmas stuff down from the attic and decorate. I had really been looking forward to it. I couldn't wait to take cute pictures of the baby with the tree. Maybe put an ornament in her hand and pretend she is putting it on the tree and take a picture. Adorable. I spent most of the day cleaning house while my husband brought stuff down from the attic. He set up the tree and had just finished putting the lights on when our daughter, who is teething, started having a meltdown. So, I had to take her up to bed. My husband came with me and helped me give her a bath. While I was feeding her, he said he was going back downstairs to get some water and would be right back. It was 30-45 minutes before he came back. I had a really bad feeling about this since his mother had been going through the ornament box as I was taking the baby upstairs. Surely, he wouldn't decorate the tree without me! Right?! I mean, he knows how excited I've been. So, when he comes back into the bedroom I say "The tree isn't decorated is it?" he replies with this excited little "Yes"! Him and his Mother decorated the tree together!!!!! Without me!!!!! The hell? So, I spent all day cleaning up after everyone so that you and you're mother could decorate my Christmas tree without me? I guess I'm just the maid. I'm still excited about Christmas. Just in a different way now. I can't wait to see what a giant mess this Christmas will be!