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Surviving Easter with my Family

Posted 24th April 2011 at 12:02 by Drimma

I know how Bart feels - like totally.

The Kids had captured my room and utilized my very beating heart (aka my pc) and other assorted belongings for their own frolics. So downstairs I went where I joined my male cousins in stoking the coals of a bbq and some "guy talk"; "you should only ever let a woman know 20% of who you are - cause if she thinks she even knows just 80% ahh its finished all interest goes out the window, once they figure you out it's over - girls are funny" quipped a jaded one on one of our favorite topics. However some guest outside the family, a Mr. Buzzkillington, joined and monopolized the conversation with inanities about the power the sixth and seventh senses.

My dad popped out for a cig, the sole smoker of the 40 or so present, and ended up holding court with an autobiographical episode of how he first got into smoking (and for the first time I found out he'd taken marijuana tho inadvertently in his youth). Incidentally this is how I know most of my fathers history, as comic anecdotes or nostalgic snipets as he regales his friends. But his biggest shocker was still to come.

My family events always have unbearably heavy overtones of religious claptrap strew in, an endless thanking and praising and beseeching and seeking from the small to the eternal - always deathly amens on my atheist soul. But today being Easter a zealot auntie was preparing to give an outright summon after the merry eating and merry drinking; and what merry drinking by my papa who wished to speak a few words just now. From the outset I knew nothing good could come of this. He started by thanking the attendees - so far so good -
"We are going to pray and I need a prayer. My 1st born (older sis) my 2nd born (yours truly) and my 3rd born (sis) all live separate lives. They come downstairs get their food and up they go into their own worlds away from me and her (pointing to my mom)." He lamented on our dysfunctional family but what really pissed him off was his own harsh and deprived childhood on which he had to be cut off be for he retold it all in his languorous drunken blathering beat. My otherwise retiring, quite, emotionally constipated laid back papa was letting it all out. The sheer embarrassment of the uncouth oaf; you'd think I'd be used to it after all these years.

I sleeked away and back to my room which after some 8hrs and at 1am was still under occupation by the little people amongst whom I feigned sleep leaving them to their cartoons and phone games and the grown ups downstairs to their hiba jiba praises.

Anyone else find family gatherings emotional survival tests?
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