Oddly ungrateful.

I’m kind of glad that Christmas is over.  Technically speaking.  We still have a few gifts to give out when we get home but for all purposes, we can go back to our regularly scheduled life. 

The girls had a much calmer Christmas thanks, in part, to not traveling on the exact day.  We also didn’t have company.  It made all the difference in the world.  Amelia slept all night and neither girl woke up until a respectable 8am.  Which was good because mommy had a cheap wine hangover.  It took them the better part of an hour to open gifts.  They would stop and play and run over to table and eat a little breakfast and then find another package…so it went.  Nothing too extravagant although there are about a gagillion little pieces to just about everything that came to Ella.  Some of that is my fault.  Okay, it’s mostly my fault.  All of it.  Whatever. 

My house currently looks like a giant came along, ripped it from its foundation, shook it upside down, righted it and put it back on the foundation.  Good thing I’m not there, right?  Who lives like that anyway?

We are at my mom’s house.  We haven’t been here since May.  I’ve been kind of dreading it because the whole trip then kind of left a sour taste in my mouth.  Like I just drank antifreeze and definitely don’t want to do that again.  Mom is actually okay.  She let me sleep in this morning and enjoyed her day home with the girls all day. 

I get that Christmas is about the kids.  I get it that mom gets hosed most years.  I know that I can go out and get something for myself at any given moment with very little effort or much thought.  But I?  Didn’t get diddly shit for Christmas.  I know that that’s not what it’s about.  I should be happy because my girls are happy.  I know it’s about how everyone that we gave to loved their gifts.  I am trying not to be ungrateful. 

Am I?  Ungrateful?  Should I be all cranky because the only thing I got from my parents was a digital food scale?  It only emphasizes the point that A) my mother is weight obsessed and B) not all that creative.  I had said like a month ago that I was going to get one for myself (doubles as a postal scale you know and I mail packages much more often than I need to weigh my food) (unless I do WW again) (which I really need to)  (but really, really don’t want to).  Anyway, so she says, “well, let me get that for you for Christmas.”  Okay BUT I didn’t think that would be all.  

Ungrateful twit. 

I’m just kind of (really) sad that I’m always the odd one out.  Odd number at the dinner table.  Shopping, wrapping and drinking alone.  I’m always the one behind the camera…there aren’t any pics of me and kids that aren’t taken professionally.  Maybe odd one out isn’t the right phrase (What’s that phrase in Alaska regarding the man to woman ratio?  The odds are good but the goods are odd?).  Maybe the right thing to call it is left out.

Left out of the excitement because there isn’t anyone to share it with.  Feeling like I’m butting in on someone else’s family time or alone time. 

I really, really hate being single.