I hate holidays

I know that is not a popular thing to say.  I get it.  I am the Grinch.  I don't want to be.  I wish I wasn't.  But it is soooo soooo soooo tough.

Thanksgiving:

First my niece is there.  The perfect niece.  The smart niece.  The younger niece.  Ladybug and K get compared.  K loves school.  K is so smart.  K is so happy.  K is learning so much.  And it would just be katty of me to point out that I had to repeat basic instructions to her over and over and she still didn't get it right.  And I don't want to point out that my child is actually brilliant.  Brilliant in human nature.  She can read a person in about 2.7 seconds.  Because I don't want to point out that she usually uses her brilliance for evil.

My father is also there.  He doesn't believe me about Ladybug.  He loves to egg her on.  He loves to break the rules.  He loves to work her up into a frenzy.  He loves to contradict my attempts to keep her even keel.  He wants her to be normal.  But then reality slaps in the face -- sometimes literally... like when she grabbed the video tape of Miracle on 34th Street and smacked him with it during a wrestling match.

And then there is my sister.  Who brings cockroaches with her.  Yeah, there is nothing worse then that.

Lastly there is my step mom.  Who is a wonderful cook.  She follows recipes religiously but they turn out great.  Not only do I gain weight whenever I am there but I also need to hear from the kid how she is a better cook then me.

One holiday down.  Two more trips for it is 2013.  I hope I survive.

Mean Mama