We never set out, as a family, to get frozen out over non-compliance with semi-mandatory holiday dinner attendance policies. Through no fault of anyone’s, really, we happened to glance at a piece of paper on the fridge that indicated that we have only 7 weeks left in which to use up a swanky hotel voucher that I won in an online auction a thousand months ago. And also, there is the other matter of I hate the fudgeing fourth of July, and I’m ready to stand here behind my keyboard, propped up against seven perfectly fluffed pillows in a ginormous, perfectly made bed in a swanky hotel and unapologetically admit it.
Michael said “Well that worked out perfectly!”
Why yes sir it certainly did.
Here’s a sample of what I didn’t do last night:
- Frantically throw salsa and a bag of chips onto a plate because EVERY fudgeING YEAR I forget it’s a potluck.
- police my children’s plates of food, crushing their tiny, corn-syrup addicted spirits over and over again for seven hours while everyone else eats red white and blue cake, cookies, and candy. Yanking dinner rolls from their hands, handing them gluten free crackers and apple slices, asking repeatedly, “wouldn’t you like some carrots and ranch?”
- watch my son get eaten by mosquitoes, begin coughing, and scratch his arms, legs and face until he starts to bleed, ultimately creeping everyone out with his zombie flesh
- There was no sidestepping of racist jokes last night. None at all. My shoulders just relaxed and dropped about three inches down from my ears as I typed that sentence. AHHHHHH NO RACISM AT THE DINNER TABLE SO REFRESHING.
- No inserting my physical body between my children and a pit bull. Enough said.
- no heart pounding panic while family members lit fireworks. No holding hands over my son’s ears when it got loud. No holding hands over MY ears when it got loud. We watched fireworks from the 5th floor windows of a miniature hotel room straight out of an IKEA catalog. Beautiful.
- I did not watch my children jump on the rusty trampoline this year! WHAT.
It’s too early to tell what the full ramifications of a decision like this will bring us. We’ve lived in Florida for eight long, family infused years now. Many holiday dinners have seen only one partner from our superduo, but we’ve never declared ourselves this way, pulled the whole family totally out of the celebration and created our own.
I have more to post, but I’m needed at the pool and I’m not ready to talk about my daughter’s headache and the front desk’s callous attitude about it just yet. THE POOL IS SO WARM. THE ROOM IS SO CUTE.
Independence Day.
Sicker Than Others 