Christmas Drama Mama

I loved Christmas as a child. It was a time where family gathered together, favorite foods were created, and there was a magical zest in the air. The first Christmas that I didn’t believe in Santa was slightly tarnished, as was the year my brother convinced me to help him find our gifts, but mostly I have fond memories of the holiday. Sadly, as an adult most of my Christmas memories are not as jolly. Christmas is a tough time for my kiddos for a lot of reasons. Our schedules get messed up, there is more to do and see and of course the expectation of the big day, not to mention remembering they are separated from their biological family and the sadness that brings. So, every year since the kids have moved in I have tried to keep my expectations very low. I thought I was doing an ok job of it this year until I was blind sighted by my biological family drama.

 

My sister had spoken to me the Friday before Christmas about doing a dinner instead of our typical brunch. It would mean less rushing around for us in the morning, so I was game. She agreed to contact our mom and discuss the details with her. I’m not clear on how that conversation went or if it even occurred. Saturday was Chica Marie’s birthday. We had plans to celebrate her day, starting with lunch at a restaurant of her choice so Primero could join us, since he would be working at dinner time. After lunch we ran a few brief errands and then took Primero to work where the kids played in the arcade and jumped in the trampoline park. But, on our way to taking Primero to work, I noticed I had two missed calls from my dad, two missed calls from my mom and a missed call from my sister. I wondered if they were trying to reach me to wish Chica Marie a happy birthday. I called my mom back. She answered and it soon became clear she not only did not remember it was Chica Marie’s birthday, she also didn’t care. She called me to cancel Christmas. She told me she “just couldn’t pretend” this year and didn’t want us to come over. I was dumfounded. Sadly, I had her on speaker phone, thinking she would want to say, “Happy Birthday!” to Chica Marie. I sat in the van as Primero took the kids inside to play and I called my sister. Apparently she too had been told our mother was not participating in Christmas this year. We decided to meet for pedicures the next day and talk about how we wanted to make Christmas for ourselves.

 

Sunday morning our mom text us both stating our father would like to see us for Christmas and we should contact him. I called and text but he didn’t respond to me. My sister decided her and her husband would come to see us Christmas Eve on their way to his grandfather’s place for dinner. We would exchange gifts and celebrate on our own. My dad called me Monday morning asking to see us for breakfast the day after Christmas. I told him I was going back to work so we agreed to meet at Nana’s house on Christmas day.

As I was in the grocery store later that same day, my mom called me. I didn’t respond until I was back in my car. She wanted to know how to get the children’s gifts to them. I told her whatever was convenient for her. If she wanted, she could send them with Dad to the market and I could pick them up there. She was clearly crying. She said, “I don’t know why it has to be this way.” I told her we were only trying to abide by her wishes. “Well you didn’t for my birthday!” Her birthday was the last time she told my sister and I off. I responded that maybe it was a mistake that we didn’t abide by her wishes on her birthday. She began crying harder. She told me my sister and I don’t have any compassion or empathy for her. “You have such compassion for everyone else but not for your own mother,” she accused me. She also essentially told me I am supposed to intuitively know what she needs and wants and once again told me both my sister and I are bad daughters. I managed to not cry during our conversation but bawled my eyes out after we hung up.

During our conversation my mom managed to get a clue out of me as to when we were seeing our dad. I worried she might make a big deal out of us being on the farm and not coming to her house. I told my sister and my dad that I would not subject my children to any drama. We would quietly and quickly leave if anything started. My mom didn’t show up at our grandmother’s place. Our dad showed up with evidence he had been crying. He cried a little when talking to my sister. I know it was so hard on him. As my sister said, our mother was playing a game and expecting us to beg to see her. Instead, we took her at her word and didn’t. During our phone conversation my mom mentioned she wanted to watch Love Bug open the train she got him – a replica Polar Express. She would have been delighted because his reaction didn’t disappoint. He was nearly vibrating with joy, somehow knowing before even seeing, he had gotten the train he wanted for Christmas. His joy was palpable and beautiful. It’s so sad she missed it.