Several years ago, after holiday festivities had stretched into week after exhausting week once we’d celebrated with both sides of our families, The Daver and I looked at each other all blearily and spent and made an executive decision: we were going to start combining our familial celebrations.
The way we saw it, ANYTHING was better than having to celebrate 14 Christmas’s (each sect expecting us to be pissing cheerful rainbows and sunshine) stretched out over the course of several
As it turns out, we were horribly mistaken. The only thing worse than celebrating Thanksgiving 57 times, choking down approximately 408 pounds of dry turkey and greasy stuffing, was doing it just once. All together.
Now, my in-laws have never been overly fond of me, be it because I am loud and obnoxious, rude and horny, or just because I don’t care one way or another about my socks matching; I don’t pretend to understand the whys about the whole shebang (mayhap showing up to their home the first time I met them wearing a patent leather corset was a bad fashion choice. Who knew?).
And my own parents have (I believe) rewritten history so that they actually birthed The Daver and not me, so great is their love for the guy (hey, at least we agree on one thing, right?). My dad often references the shrine they’ve built to The Daver in their home, where they pay tribute and light candles under a framed picture of Dave for marrying their daughter and taking her out of their care, and just because I’ve never actually seen this shrine with my own two eyes does not mean that it’s not there. I’m pretty sure it is.
So it appears that the only common ground that we all have is our love for The Daver.
Unfortunately, this does not translate well into comfortable family gatherings. Both Thanksgiving and Christmas this year were so excruciatingly painful and uncomfortable that all I wanted to do was to go and hide in my closet with a bottle or three until it was all over.
Thank the stars in Heaven that the major holidays are over for a year, but the minor ones are starting.
Which both sets want to celebrate on the same day (but not Easter proper).
And we’re at an impasse: do we try (in vain, it seems) to get our families together yet again, thereby ensuring another day filled with discomfort and awkwardness, or do we split it up somehow?
(My love for the holidays, including Easter, nearly rivals my love for Diet Coke, and the fact that they have been reduced to misery really upsets me. I can get over the fact that my in-laws would prefer I was someone else, but I can’t get over that ruining my holiday. My priorities are skewed, I know, but I have no sure fire way of making them like me.)
Shit, I guess we could just change the focus of the holidays entirely to Let’s Pamper Daver And Profess Our Undying Love For Him Days, and maybe we could unite under that guise. I’m sure Dave would like that.
So here’s where I turn to you, Dear Internet, who never leads me astray…whose beauty is unrivaled, and wit unmatched. Those pants look great on you, by the way, have you lost weight? You look amazing today. Seriously hot.
If you were Aunt Becky and The Daver, how would you handle this? Or, if you have nothing substantial to add, tell me an in-law story or three.