I hate smalltalk.

As it turns out, I’m actually sick. Ella went to a friend’s house to play (again). Amelia and I hung out (again) and I called the doctor. I have…get this…a raging ear infection. And my sinuses are well on their way. I didn’t know that adults could get ear infections. That explains the achey neck and ringing ear. And pain every time I swallow. So, I’m on an antibiotic and motrin. I’m seriously sitting here waiting for my eardrum to burst. My whole face feels numb.

The girls and I were supposed to leave for O-town in the morning. We will wait until Thursday or until I feel better. There is so much to be done with the moving and all but I really want to get to my mom’s so I can have a nap. Alone. I know, I know….it’s quite a concept. But I can hardly stand the wait. It’s like Christmas has come early.

Speaking of holidays, since we are going so late, my mom thinks it will be neat for us to stay for Thanksgiving. Which means going to my childless cousin’s (paternal side of the family: read as “no fun”) and chasing my wonder twins around a not baby proofed house. Kind of like my brother’s wedding. Or a root canal.

Thanksgiving has never been a big deal around here. November was the kickoff to the catering holiday season. He worked really hard the 10 days before Thanksgiving, rested on the day and then Black Friday worked for 4 weeks straight until Christmas Eve. Kind of a tradition. And yet, we managed to conceive Amelia during that time…sigh…always had time for the important things. Like an ovulating, horny wife.

I really want to be home. I want it to be another day. I want to NOT be around people that sit around and talk about…nothing…because nobody really knows each other. They small talk all. the. time. Weather. Huskers. Nascar. Weather. Huskers. Repeat ad nauseaum. And, I don’t want anyone cornering me to tell me how special Stephen was.

Point #1: Yes, I know. I married him.
Point #2: You never came out or called or visited when he was sick much less when the kids were born and you didn’t even come to Will’s funeral. Pity? Not in the mood.
Point #3: I’m not going into the gory details of his illness, treatments, trauma or death with you. I know it will make you feel special but I’m not doing it.

This is my dad’s family. They make me squicky and always have. I can’t put my finger on it. Somehow my own father is awesome but my aunts, uncles and, in particular, my cousins creep me out. Grandpa is awesome and Grandma is batty, passive agressive but usually means well. How do I get out of this? I don’t have a single excuse. The best I can hope for is that the girls are done with traveling by the time the day comes and we can just go home.

My luck, and this is my luck this year, is that they are angels for everyone but me. Why do children make liars of us every chance they get?


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