I'm back. We're actually a day early because we were utterly sick and tired of being guests. I was tired of all The Boy's relations, and my own, and I think he'd had more than enough time with them, so we decided to flee the scene early. (Long rant about the woman to follow, if virulent bile isn't the mood you're in, skip this.)
The Boy was, to say the least, disappointed with his Christmas presents on the whole. His mother doesn't believe in buying "toys", though I would not consider DVD's to people without cable "toys", but whatever. And she doesn't buy tools, which I can understand if he'd just said, "I want tools," but he gave her a detailed list of things he needs for work (down to the webpage- all she'd need to do was push "add to cart"), which are as far away from toys as one can get. So, she spent half his Christmas money on a goofy t-shirt he doesn't like and the rest of it on trivial things (a hardware bag) he didn't need as badly as the things he was hoping to get (ratcheting wrenches).
I don't need clothes and "practical" crap, because I can buy that for myself all year long. Why should I deprive myself of stuff I need and hope to get it for Christmas? One of the things I asked for was a comforter, which I got, but it's black and will show right through the sort of beige-y cream duvet cover I have. The trouble is that the cover is an odd size, and it's impossible to find anything to fit. I saw it online at Sears listed as "grey", which I took to mean "off-white" not "black". Oh well, took it back and found one at Target that I'll have to buy online because they didn't have Queen sizes in the store.
His siblings? They got toys. Older Brother got an expansion to a Star Wars computer game, Younger Brother got CD's and some other stuff, and The Sister got lotion stuff- all things they specifically asked for. And his siblings are the ones who are continually asking for groceries, rent, and car payments. WE pay them back.
I understand the spirit of giving, but she's so royally bad at the job. It is said that Older Brother's Wife generally returns a lot of stuff (given the number of things I've gotten from them that fit the "close, but no cigar" category, I can understand it). BUT, his mother instead goes to great lengths to make certain to buy OBW things from hole in the wall stores so it's impossible to tell where they may have come from so that she's stuck with them. It's the thought that counts, but what does one do when the thought is misguided?
The Sister, it seems, is pregnant. They're busy not telling anyone because it's a black boy she's not married to. As The Boy's mother put it the other day, "HIS family might be used to these out of marriage mixed race children, but WE'RE not." Which is only half true, Older Brother managed the first option with the oldest nephew.
I think it's a nightmare waiting to happen because The Sister can't be trusted to be responsible for herself, and there's no proof that the father is either. These are two people who should not be in charge of ruining the lives of anyone else, but, whatever. The quality of this poor child's future doesn't even enter into The Boy's mother's thought. Her feelings stop at two comments that put together made me want to smack her: "I told her I will be there for the birth, she doesn't get any choice, I was there for all four of the other grandchildren," (considering the circumstances, I don't suppose The Sister does, but, I choose to consider it reason #7859 not to have children) and then she followed that up later with, "I don't suppose I'll like her baby as much as the others, because it's mixed race, but that's how it goes."
If I'd had any guts, I'd've left the house right then. As it happens, all I did was very clamly remind her that their daughter is already mixed race (1/16th Native American, enough to claim, but not enough to get scholarships for). The response, "well, she's adopted." Like that makes it OK, like adopted children are already marginalised so that makes up for everything. I'm neither what they would consider mixed race nor adopted, but the idea that anyone can sit there and claim that they aren't going to like an unborn child because of the actions of it's idiot parents, that's the sort of thing that I think people should at least be exiled from human contact for if not dragged out into the street and shot.
Er, so, those are The Boy's mother's latest antics. You can kind of see why I'm glad to be back home, and why I'm so very thankful that at least The Boy doesn't cherish any of these ignorant intolerant thoughts. I'm already gunning for Christmas alone in Illinois next year. It just feels peaceful and happier.
By contrast, it makes my family seem wonderful. They're not, but at least they're semi-rational decent human beings in comparison.
I spent three or four days down in DM with them, which felt like a lovely repose from The Boy's mother. I got a bunch of the Christmas presents they were going to get me, but didn't get in case of doubles. Not like they needed to worry. Printer ink and DVD's- that's all I've really wanted for Christmas the past few years, because that's really all I need.
But, that brief a time is still too long with my parents. It's because my mother tries dreadfully hard to do everything right. If I mention a movie I heard was in theatres, she wants to go see it. Well, that's all very well and good, but there are very few movies worth seeing in theatres, especially when my father is an even bigger critic than I am, and he has a tendency to fall asleep in movie theatres. There's no reason to go see movies with my parents. Or, if I mention that I like apples, she wants to run out and buy me more apples (or whatever) than I can manage to eat and then take them back with me.
I know this comes from that "good hostess" vibe instilled in her from being born in 1952 and a stuff=love thang. But, really, she doesn't need to do it for me. I can buy the same food here, I don't need to bring it back with me. It'll be fresher. It's nice, but it gets annoying.
"No, Mom, I don't need marshmallows, I just said that I haven't had a s'more in a long time. Please, don't buy me marshmallows, I'll just eat them."
"But that's the point. Should we get you those pinwheel cookies with the marshmallows in them? The chocolate and the marshmallows?"
"No, it's OK. We already have a house full of Hershey's chocolate, bananas, Pepsi, and even more stuff I can't manage to eat in three days, we're fine."
"Well, you can take it back with you."
"I don't need to fill the car up with that stuff, I've got a bunch of boxes I'm taking back with me already."
"I can mail them to you. Should I mail that stuff to you? That's OK, I can do that."
Sigh.
I am also pissed at my bank. In spite of having changed my address with them, I never got the credit card bill that's due on the 2nd. The problem with this is that the closest branch of that bank to here is in Saint Louis, so I can't put anything in that checking account, and I don't have enough money in the checking account to transfer. So, what will happen is that they'll try to take the money out of my checking account and then I'll get charged an overdraft. I'm going to have to call my mother tonight and tell her I never got it so she can try and pay it for me and I'll send the money to her. I went to that bank while I was in town, but they made out like it was no big deal, just pay it when I get home. If the stupid card didn't have to RECIEVE the money on the due date rather than just be post-marked by then, this would be easier.
I still don't know how they managed not to send the bill to me. And, because my mother is more than a tiny bit paranoid, she's going to freak out when I tell her I never got the bill.
I just checked, and it looks like I can at least print off the online statement and mail that in. I have no idea how it's expected to get there in the mail on the second when there's no mail that day (thank you OH so very much George Bush), and I don't see why that should be MY fault, but I suppose it is.
All right. I brought home a box full of unmarked VHS tapes to go through. Given that we've never had a video recorder, this can only mean it's years of weird television specials. That'll keep me busy until next year, at least.
(That was a joke, next year is in a few hours, it'll keep me busy long past that. Losing my touch, aren't I?)