Bah! Humbug!

Here I sit, dying to blog out all the shit that's been going on with the out-laws over the last two weeks but not having the time. Here's the shortest version possible, and the most recent events, in a very small nutshell (possibly a hazelnut shell - LOL!)...

I don't understand why my FIL accusing me of things that just aren't true, or founded in any way, are driving me nuts and why I'm letting them get to me. He is such an insufferable prick. When I have tried to be nothing short of understanding and flexible, honest and patient. For his sake, my sake, my MIL's sake, my husband's sake and my children's sake. And what has he done in return? He has been plain disrespectful, unaccepting, unrelenting, and unwilling to compromise to save the relationships around him. And he blames it all on me. I was accused today, by him, of being malicious, manipulative, superficial, weak-willed, unwilling to change, unwilling to get to know him (yet, mind you, I have known my husband for 10 years!). Accused of trying to isolate his son from his family. And of being sexually abused as a child. And after all that he said he didn't trust me and would never again touch my children because he thought I had it in me to cry wolf to the police and cause a "potentially serious situation" for him. AARRRGGGHHHH!!!!!!! This all stems back to the fact that I have never liked my FIL (many, many reasons, too many to list right now; it's mostly just a personality conflict) and I have seen him touch my niece and my own children in ways that I am not comfortable with. Not that there's anything wrong with what he does, the rest of the family thinks I'm crazy, but he is a creepy fucker and rubbing a 12 year old's legs and hips, in my opinion, is unacceptable. Giving a 6 month old a neck and back massage and then taking them into another room to spend alone time with them is, in my opinion, beyond the boundaries of acceptable grandparent touching. Tony sees how creepy his dad is, but thinks there is nothing to it, and I believe him, but I just have to trust my gut on this one. Anyway, he left my house today saying that he would rather just pretend that we live 3,000 miles away and not have any contact with us from here on out. I am fine with it. Oh, by the way, he has prostate cancer... even mortality taunting him isn't enough for him to make concessions to meet us halfway. He even went so far as to say that we were the ones who needed to make concessions on our values and beliefs and he was not willing to do so on his side. Well buddy, I hate to tell you but when it comes to my kids I will not back down. I backed down from him for 7 years before they were born and about 2 years ago I reached my breaking point. Ugh... Thank fucking God I have therapy tomorrow morning; hopefully it will help me let go and enjoy Christmas. Because while Tony's mom, sister, BIL and niece are coming on Christmas Eve, his father is no longer welcome in my home. Ever. I could go on forever on what a raging dick head he is but I will stop short of giving myself a heart attack. What a horrible way to start the holidays... peace and love and goodwill towards men my ass.

I have no Christmas tree; why bother with a 2 year old and 3 10 month olds eyeballing it and trying to gang up together to attack it? I have no decorations out; why bother when I can't even get my laundry put away? I just got my "Christmas cards" mailed out today, which was just a 4x6 picture print-out from Scrapblog (no cute group photos for us this year) stuffed into a business-sized security envelope. I did just make Tony get out our little Charlie Brown fakie tree - after all, Santa has to have someplace to leave the presents. But now I have to spend all night wrestling with lights and decorating it. I never got around to having the triplets' stockings embroidered so I put medical tape on them and wrote their names in script with a red Sharpie. It's all so ghetto:

To put it in perspective, here is the 5' scrawny fakie next to the coffee table and the cat:

At least it's something I guess. I'm not exactly a holly jolly fat chick right now... sigh...

Tomorrow I have to get up, showered and dressed early because I have head therapy at 9:45 and then physical therapy at 11. Then I have to clean my house and finish wrapping presents. Tomorrow night we have to unpack and start assembling the kids' kitchen. On Wednesday I have to make cookies, cupcakes, punch, and a big lasagna dinner (a Christmas eve "tradition"), and bathe all 4 of my kids, all before 3 o'clock when Tony's family (sans dad) will be arriving. Wednesday night we will have to finish assembling the kitchen, put out the presents, stuff the stockings, and head to bed so I'm alert enough Christmas morning to not be a complete bitch all day long. I've been having dreams this week that I forget to put cookies out for Santa or that we forget to feed the kids on Christmas morning or that our house burns down. Some stupid catastrophes, some horrible tragedies, but all dreams, thank God. It's still a little disconcerting that my Lexapro makes me sleep like a rock, dreamless all night, but the stress of the holidays is bringing me up a notch for the first time ever. Christmas has always been my absolute favorite holiday. I'm the person that makes sugar cookies and likes to hit the malls the week before Christmas. I always loved it. But this year I just can't get in the spirit. I am psyched that we have all this snow (a foot and a half!!), and I am totally psyched to see Gwen open her presents. I can't wait for it to come to enjoy it, and I can't wait for it to be over.