Yesterday was the traditional Basler family xmas dinner. I got time off of work to go. I like my family, they are hilarious. there's great food involved, and, being the oldest of the grandkids, i no longer have to corale the small children because there are several other kids old enough to do it. There is however, a strange rush of power when i do choose to get involved and just have to say "[name], stop kicking your brother and get off the floor," and have them freeze in terror and do what i say. I told one of the medium aged kids that if i heard him scream "presents" at one more person before actually giving them a hug or saying hello, i was going to pinch him so hard he cried. He listened and i did not have to pinch him, because he knew i would do it.
I enjoy time with my family because i am a product of my environment.
Fun times at my Aunt Ellen's house were overshadowed by my grandmother.
So, i am the oldest grandchild. My father has 5 brothers and sisters, resulting in 14 grandkids and one spoiled dog all together. My aunt Marianne passes out presents from my grandmother because she has been brought to the hospital against her will. Caitlin and i are sitting on the couch joking around about how we're too old to get gifts because our grandmother forgets our birthday's and such. Marianne tosses a card to Cait and she moves on to the next bag. Caitlin looks at me. My face drops. She open her card and in it is $20 and a christmas ornament with a picture of her in it taken the hospital after her birth. I couldn't believe my gadma had forgotten me again. I nearly lost it in the living room. I got up and ran into the bathroom and started sobbing uncontolably.
It's not that i didn't get a present. I couldn't care less about 20 bucks. THe ornament was cute, but unnecessary to my mental health. It was that i had been overlooked. I was the only one.
I go back to the living room after calming down, ask cait if i look ok and watch the little kids. Marianne is passing out the last of the gifts to the adults from my Grandma. They are packages of fudge. Someone makes a joke about the year she gave out wrapped cans of chicken broth (to go with the homade tortellinis she had stored in teh freezer). Marianne sees me on the couch lokkes in teh bagf and starts rummaging under the tree. She resurfaces and i just shrug, because i don't want anyone to notice how upseet i am.
Fortunately, i had to leave to get to work. I'm pretty sure Marianne said something to my dad because it was brought up on the ride home, according to cait. I asked her what they said and she responded, "Not much."
Basler Xmas 2004= excellent food, funtimes, realization that my grandmother doesn't realize i exist. Yay, i'm a fucking grown up.
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