Idiot Ex Husband .com

Home for the holidays

December 28th, 2006

I stomped up the steps into the poolside courtyard, my Pier 1 and Urban Outfitter bags were sliding out from my grip. I grumbled, “I friggin’ hate Christmas!” just as my downstairs neighbor, June, opened the gate. She was chipper and fresh faced, her long hair pulled into a ponytail. No matter what the weather does around her, she always looks like she’s ready for summer. I think she takes it with her.

“Hi, how are you?”

“Just lovely. You probably heard me muttering how much I hate Chrismas.” I walked right past her to keep my bags from landing on her feet. They fell on mine instead.

She smiled at me. “No, I didn’t. Were you just shopping?”

“Yes and it sucked. I was snaked twice for parking spaces. I was there first!”

She suddenly looked serious. “I went to the Fashion Square Mall yesterday and didn’t bother using the parking lot. I parked in the residential neighborhood and took the extra minute of walking to clear my head…” she stretched her arms open wide.

I imagined her going to her happy place. I pictured it as sunny and sandy with turquoise colored waters and tall swaying palm trees. Gosh, that sounded so nice. If I was there, I could wear my hair in a pony tail, too. Then, maybe I could carry summer with me all the time. I wouldn’t have to fight for parking spaces or wait in long lines for the privledge to buy overpriced crap. I wonder what that place is called? That’s how I remember Hawaii , both times I was there…Wait a minute. Am I now in my happy place?

June let out a big sigh. “…and get me ready for the mall.”

And with that I was back. I was so irritated by the two parking jackals that I almost got out of my car to tell them off. Truthfully, I also wanted to hurt them! I’m generally not a violent person, but I really was ready to kick some Christmas ass!…Of course, I didn’t do that. Not because (okay, say it with me) it’s-wrong-to-hurt-other-people, so much as I don’t have the bail money required for a satisfying Christmas ass-whooping!

The next day, Christmas Eve, was my last chance to pick up some gifts before my family’s annual Christmas Eve tamale dinner. Christmas Eve is reserved for the mexican meal of tamales while Christmas Day features all the traditional american fixings. They’re both good, but this year I opted for the tamales with my family and a quiet Christmas day alone.

I wasn’t sure when everyone was meeting up, so I plugged in my earbud and dialed my grandparents’ house in Riverside, CA.

“Hi, Grandma, this is Flo. How are you?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“I’m okay. I’m calling to find out when everyone will meet tonight. I’m not sure when that is supposed to happen.”

“We’re having dinner at five.”

That made sense given they’re had dinner at five since my mom was five years old — maybe longer!

“Ohhhhhh…it’s four now and I’m still in LA. Sheesh, I have more Christmas gifts to pick up, so it’ll be two or three hours before I could even show up.”

(Read this in your cranky granny voice for full effect)

“You don’t have a husband or children, so what’s keeping you from doing everything you need to get done?”

I, being the incredibly mature woman that I am, paused a moment before I spoke.

“You know…I’m wondering if I should return your Christmas gift right now!”

My grandmother laughed hard. I guess it was a good thing she took it as a joke, though I wasn’t kidding! I was pissed. Of all the ways to hit when I’m down, did it REALLY have to be about my broken marriage and the children I wanted but didn’t have?

I cried the rest of the afternoon as I ran errands around town, before I headed east for Riverside. On the drive out, I got a call from my soon to be ex-husband, Endicott, wishing me a Merry Christmas. I was more than upset so I don’t remember everything that was said, but there’s enough for me to paraphrase:

What’s so merry about it? I friggin HATE Christmas. I spend a lot of time and a lot of money I don’t have (the luxury to waste) on people who are mean to me! Mean how? Like this…(insert hysterical shrieking here) that’s how!

There was a long pause from Endicott before he said, “Yikes.”

Yikes indeed.

I finally calmed down an hour later when I stopped in West Covina to see a friend. She, her husband, her son and thirty other relatives gather at her parent’s home for their annual Christmas party. It’s the house in which she grew up, it’s where she lived when she met her future husband (back in high school), it’s also where she was married (I still remember how impressed I was when the DJ played, “How soon is now?” by the Smiths) and its now where she takes her six year old son for family events and visits with his grandparents. It’s a sweet, loving home in which I pop in once or twice a year.

Walking into the house, I felt a little like Norm on the TV show, “Cheers,” as everyone said, “Flo!” or “Hey, Flo!” as well as, “Flo’s here!” and my favorite, “Hey, Flo, I’ll get your margarita!” Yes, these are my people! Seriously, anyone who has a margarita standing by (for me?) will always have a place in my heart.

So we chatted, we laughed, tried to stump the cocky little 20 Questions gadget everyone there got as a Christmas gift. Not only does it do a great job at figuring out our guesses — we chose the word margarita, it guessed wine — it does it with attitude such as, ‘You thought you were being tricky with that clue, but I’ll figure it out.’

By the time I left, it was 7:00p.m. Dinner at my grandparent’s place would have been long over, with guests headed home. I thought about turning around and heading home, but didn’t.

Yes, I was hurt by the harsh words, but really, I knew it was coming. That’s a typical remark — and a mild one, too! — from someone in my family. They play rough. They say hurtful things as jokes — they can be as funny as they are cutting — and don’t understand how someone could offended by it. So, if I know this about them — and about myself, too, because I can do the same thing, just like flipping a switch — then why was I so upset? Why freak out over something so expected?

I was about to call my grandparent’s house when I saw they had just phoned my cell a minute earlier. My brother answered the phone. Turned out my parents were ready to go home, but weren’t sure if I was driving there or not.

“I told Grandma I was driving out there today. Sure, that was almost four hours ago, but I’m still going! I almost turned around though, I was so pissed. So, Grandma didn’t tell you what she said to me today, huh? Ohhhh! Listen to this!…”

This is where I wish I had sound effects because me writing BBWWWAAAAAHHHAAA!!!” doesn’t do justice to the long assed peels of laughter rolling out of my brother; broken up by, “Awww, that’s messed up! BWWAAAHHHAAA!” and, “God, that’s so mean! BWAAAHHHAA!” and, his one stab at understanding, “You know, they (our family) can’t help it. They don’t realise how mean it sounds. BWWAAHHHAAA!…Uh, (giggles) you know, I wouldn’t normally (giggles more) laugh at you this much (giggles longer) but I’ve had a little of the Crown Royal. I can’t help it! BWWWAAAHHHHAAAA!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear and spoke right into the mic, “You’re not cool. You suck.”

Two minutes of BWWWAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAA later, I couldn’t resist the giggles anymore. I caved.

Once I was there, everything was fine. I said hi to everyone, wrapped the last of my presents, made some gift exchanges, said goodbye as my immediate family as they headed home and hung out with my Grandma awhile. It was a nice, pleasant visit. After being there for an hour, I packed up my bags and headed for home.

As I walked to my car, and waved goodnight to my grandparents, I wondered how much of this I’ll miss when they’e gone; when I’m a parent taking my children to visit with my parents, sharing memories about the time their great-grandmother said this or did that; or the day when I’m the grandparent saying outrageous things that prompt hysterical laughter from my grandchildren. I don’t know. I think that might be the point.

There’s no place like home,
Flo

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