This is the first holiday season since DB and I separated. There are some things that make me feel nostalgic and sad about this, but not having to see my ex-mother-in-law is not one of them. Here’s how our last Christmas went:
We show up at her apartment. There is a cigarette burning in the ashtray on the coffee table, next to the open pack of single edge razorblades. (I’m not kidding. Remember, my kids were 4 and 1 at the time). She’s also watching Cops at top volume.
DB: “Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas. Where’s W (DB’s brother)?
MIL: “I don’t know. Why don’t you call him? He won’t answer the phone when I call.”
DB: Dials “Hey, what’s up? Oh! Oh no! Are you OK? OK, call me back.” Turns to us. “W was in a car accident.”
MIL: “Well that’s GREAT. What am I supposed to do about dinner? And when will we open our presents?”
Me: Like any normal person would. “Oh no! Is he OK?”
It does go some way in explaining why my ex is such a douche.
