reblogged from last year – because over 2,000 followers didn’t know me then. and if you did read it last year, it’s a little different, in a bad way.
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There’s only one day of the whole year that I truly hate, and it’s not one that I should hate. It’s Christmas. For about a dozen years I’ve spent Christmas Eve doing pretty much the same thing. I wrap gifts for my kids and put them under the tree, stare at them a little while, and then go to bed hoping not to wake up until the 26th. No matter how many gifts I might be able to give them, it never feels like enough, but that’s not the hard part. The really hard, hateful part is that I then go to bed knowing that I won’t see them at all on Christmas Day.
Regardless, when I go to bed on Christmas Eve, I try as hard as I can to not cry, but I always lose. And it’s not just crying. It’s choking, sobbing, heaving, shoulder-shaking cries. There have been some Christmas Eve’s that I’ve had someone next to me in bed. They tried to console me and ask what was wrong, but it wasn’t easy to explain.
Christmas Day isn’t much better. I spend it trying to focus on who is there instead of who isn’t. I don’t like to open gifts because the gifts to my kids will just sit there until the 26th. I don’t like a big deal to be made about Christmas. I know that’s selfish, but we’re all allowed to be selfish sometimes. I know that my attitude on Christmas doesn’t allow those around me to enjoy the day as fully as they might, but that’s because I don’t enjoy the day as fully as I might either.
I’m going to guess that IF my kids had been reading, they’ve gotten bored or annoyed and have moved on, so I can tell the rest now. I don’t see my kids on Christmas because of two people: their mother and the rotten divorce attorney that I had. In the divorce agreement that was written more than ten years ago, my ex wanted the kids all day on Christmas while I wanted to either share the day or alternate each year. My attorney wasn’t really a divorce attorney but was doing it to pay the bills until she became a prosecutor, which she did shortly after mishandling my case. She convinced me to let the ex have Christmas because a few years down the road ex-wives are usually more friendly and willing to split or alternate Christmas Day.
Turns out the attorney was wrong, and the ex has become more stubborn about the holiday. One of my kids recently asked her mother about spending half of the day with me. The ex went on a hell of a tirade and used the word “I” roughly 25 times in explaining how hurtful it was for my kid to suggest that she would like to spend any part of Christmas Day with me. Now the ex has a child with the new husband and is using that child to convince my kids even more strongly how wrong it would be if they were to spend Christmas with me because it would mean that their little sister would miss them soooo much.
So this year, my ex-wife has divorced her second husband. And to add to her selfish legacy, she immediately – the very same day she left that husband – allowed her new boyfriend to move into her new home. So for this Christmas, she’s allowing all the kids to stay at her second ex-husband’s home. Son of a bitch. For about 13 years I’ve been fighting to see my kids on Christmas Day. She won’t allow me to do that – but she will allow her second husband, the one who isn’t even the father of my kids, she’s allowing him to have my kids on Christmas morning. Don’t that beat the shit out of everything? Damn yeah.
Now, I realize that it’s her day, and she has the right to give that day up to someone whom she chooses, but you’d think that if she had any, any decency, she’d allow the actual, biological father to have his own kids on Christmas morning. This is why I won’t be sad of a bus plasters her carcass across a four-lane highway. Oh, I’ll be sad for the bus driver, maybe the passengers too, but I won’t be sad for her.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!