Wednesday, December 23, 2020

Christmas planning

So today we finalized the plans for Christmas. I mean, we had basically known them for at least a month, but we clarified all the details.

As with Thanksgiving, as with the Fourth of July, Brother and SIL and I will meet at my mother's house. We will take care to spend the whole time masked and socially distanced, while also enjoying each other's company and celebrating a very quiet version of Christmas.

Son 1, as you recall, has his own apartment. Son 2 still lives in the town where he went to University (in another state) — he graduated in May  but he drove back "home" for Christmas. He spent one week with me to make sure he wasn't infected, and then moved to Son 1's apartment, where he plans to spend the rest of Christmas Break. Son 1 and Son 2 were both invited to join the rest of us at my mom's house, but turned it down on the grounds of COVID-19. Best to stay away from other people, to reduce the overall risk of infection. And after all, my mom is 80 years old.

That's all logical. Then I discovered today that they will spend part of Christmas Day visiting Wife. Again, I can understand the decision:
  • If there's any chance they might not see her on Christmas, she gets self-pitying and emotionally manipulative.
  • By contrast my mother, Brother and SIL, and I try hard to be grown-ups about the whole thing. We treat Sons 1 and 2 as adults, and let them make their own decisions.
  • It's not practical for them to visit both houses on Christmas, because Wife lives 90 minutes from Son 1 in one direction, and my mother lives 90 minutes from Son 1 in the exact opposite direction.
I get all this. It's all very logical.

But sometimes it can be a burden being so damned intelligent and mature all the time, you know? I was disappointed when I heard I wasn't going to see them over Christmas. Now I feel jealous: you'll spend time with her even though she's obviously a horrible person, but not with us? Whimper, whimper, whimper …. It's stupid. I know it's stupid. That doesn't stop me from feeling it.

It's also not their job to manage my feelings, is it? That's my job. I know that. It still hurts, though.
            

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