Get Fucked.

All right, Tara D, here goes (the title does not apply to you).
Best Christmas Ever. And a total whirlwind at that. I'll start with Christmas Eve, since that's where the title comes from. We were to host all the relatives. My in-laws, my sister-in-law and her b-fri, and the 6 of my family. I was sent to get groceries CEve morning. My sister-in-law's boyfriend, who I'll call Matt, since that's his real name, accompanied me. We ran all over god's green to get the final ingredients for the italian buffet we were to enjoy that night. It took WAY longer than I anticipated. I tacked on a trip to Costco because I had to pick up pictures, and if I didn't do it then, it would have been a week or two later when I finally got to it. All the while, I was lamenting to Matt that Kiki was going to yell at me for being gone so long; we still had a LOT to do before the 5 PM party start.
We pulled in the driveway behind my in-laws' car. They'd just arrived. I fought with my keys and the door before I walked in the door fully laden with the groceries. I was met by my mother-in-law, who said, "It's about time..."
My response, without a hint of kidding, " Get Fucked."
It shocked the both of us, as I stammered through a "just kidding, merry Christmas" and a half-hug. She gets on my nerves from time to time, but that was no reason for me to act like that. I don't even know where it came from, honestly.
I think I effectively played it off as a joke, but I STILL feel terrible about it. I had kind of prepared a pissed-off response for Kiki in case I got guff for taking so long; everything was nuts.
I contemplated apologizing again, but I felt like that would make it out to be something other than a flippant comment. The rest of the weekend went smoothly between us.
...And way better than expected otherwise. The Best Christmas Ever bar was set a year or two ago when my mom opened her home to my wife's family and my wife's best friend's family. They were in Chicago from Michigan in support of my wife's best friend who had to spend her baby's first Christmas apart from her due to a messy divorce. The father had little competence to care for a dog let alone a child, so they decided to stay in Chicago in case the panicked "She won't stop crying no matter how hard I shake her" call came. They were in a strange place for CMas, so my mom insisted they come. The love in the house was amazing, so that unseated Christmas 1982 (I received the AT-AT and a Mr. Bill Calendar with a record).
But it was Miette that stole the show this year. She recieved scads of sentimental meaningful gifts including a bunch of Chris Van Allsburg books that were my brother's favorite. He even wrote a dedication in each. He also bought and read to her the Polar Express, that was a Thompson Family tradition before it became a Tom Hanks pocket-padder. We hadn't read it in years because my brother equated a lot of sick christmases (pre-transplant) to reading that book, so it was something of a breakthrough that he bought it and insisted on reading it to her.
I got some dope gear, Kiki got showered in clothes; her one big request now that she's in better shape than before Miette (though she'll never believe that).
Another highlight came after we exchanged gifts at my parents' house. My dad tried to read Miette "I already Love You" by recent grandfather Billy Crystal, and couldn't get past page 2.
Miette got a lot of clothes and noisy talking toys (how come every fucking toy has to talk? Even those fisher-price rings that are rainbow colors and you stack them on a stick have to have rattles inside...). She also discovered the jumper. That's a spring loaded seat that you hang in a doorway; you probably had one as a kid. Anyway, she does a combo bell kick and jig in it that might kill you with cuteness. I have a short video of it. If I can figure out how to post it, I will. It's the shit.
She and Kiki are down at my in-laws this week. The house is unbelievably lonely.
Loneliness can get fucked.