So the whole Mix & Bitch gang was supposed to go to my mom and stepdad’s house in North Carolina for the Thanksgiving holiday. And while I know plenty of you dread the idea of having to see the people unfortunately related to you, I was really looking forward to going this year. For one thing, they built themselves quite the rustic palace – and I only say rustic because of its location, not it’s amenities. With 10,000 square feet and air and heating systems for every wing, it’s not exactly winning any green earth awards anytime soon either. But my mom really goes all out with the decorations and my stepdad cooks a mean bird. And thank God my mom loves her box of wine just as much as Kathy Griffin’s mom because she gets more charming by the glass (a trait I too share). We spend the weekend doing North Carolina mountainy thingys like fishing and hiking the trails and roasting marshmallows at the open fire pit…sigh, it’s just good country fun.
Anyway, the reason why we’re not going is because Queen Mama Bitch (she’s not a music fan at all, hence why no ‘Mix” in her title) is having some unusually bad acid reflux and thinks she’s going to die. Or that she has a tumor growing on her gall bladder. Or maybe she’s really been having a heart attack the whole time. In other words, she’s a fucking hypochondriac. And I wish I could tell you this happens with aging parents, but she’s been this way since I was eight years old. So she wants to stay down in South Florida, where the “good” doctors are and get this resolved before trekking back to the boonies of Carolina.
I know I sound selfish. I am, btw. And I do get it that it’s scary to have pain that doesn’t go away. I promise you all, I am much more understanding with her on the phone. But between you and me, the whole jumping to the worse conclusion deal has gotten way old with me. She’s had a particularly stressful couple of weeks down in Florida (for reasons I can’t get into) and hence, her upper GI tract is inflamed. Doesn’t take an MD to see the stress is getting to her. I’ve really been missing her and wanted to see her…so I’m pouting via blogging. I told you all I was a spoiled brat.
The good news is that some very cool Mix & Bitch friends are hosting Thanksgiving and have invited us – there’s also going to be an after-Thanksgiving shin dig on Friday I had wanted to attend. So that works 🙂 I just hate feeling like the third wheel for someone else’s Norman Rockwellian Thanksgiving Day parade. I have really stank memories of Thanksgiving with my parents – either it being just the three of us barely talking to each other, or getting the pity invite from someone and feeling like I was looking at happy family functioning through the looking-glass. I would always end up feeling lonelier than ever.
A lot of that changed once my parents split for good and my stepdad came into my mother’s life. King Stepdad Bitch (he is also not a fan of music, hence why he shares in my mother’s title) can be a real piece of work, but for all his craziness (and trust me, he’s packaging a full load of the crazies) he brought a genuine sense of joy and – dare I say – merriment back into the holidays for me and my mom. He’s a trip and then some, and he kinda looks like a Jewishy Santa Claus so he just screams holiday friggin’ cheer. It’s a good time, and I’m going to miss it. So there’s that.