This Christmas was awkward as ass

This Christmas was awkward as ass. No other way to describe it. Egads it was trying.

A little background before I set this up: am divorced now for 5 years and for the most part get along well with my ex. We share custody and try to make things nice for our daughter. He recently got married to a woman who lives 4 hours away with her kids of her own from two previous marriages. Whom he met, I might add, a mere few weeks before I met began dating Ivy League.

I did the following things over Christmas Eve/Christmas Day to please my daughter and yet torture myself:

Christmas Eve Day - spent time with my daughter and her new stepsister
Christmas Eve- Mass with my ex, his new wife, her kids, my daughter. One big family. Confusing as hell the other parishoners.
Christmas Eve- Party at my ex in-laws (my ex's father and stepmother) with the above mentioned folks and more from my ex's family. Introductions at the party were a lesson in detante.
Christmas -Opening presents with my ex, his wife, her kids and my daughter in a hotel suite. (My true what the fuck moment...)
Christmas -Two more hours with my ex in-laws (without my ex husband and his new family) so that my daughter could open all her presents. Nicest part of the the two days, but upon reflection seems odd.
Christmas - 30 min conversation with my ex's MOTHER who quite honestly never liked me but now dislikes her son, my ex, so much that she calls me to talk.

I am fucking WORN OUT. This postmodern extended family crap is highly overrated and very very tiring. Foreign service protocol work is easier than these two days.

One non-ex bright spot: Christmas afternoon with my rock star, shared-birthday friend and her family. That girl rocks (in so many ways!) and saved my sanity that day, and it was truly truly generous of her to open her family celebration to us.

It all began when my ex husband and his brand new family came into town - unexpectedly- at the last minute. I was planning on going to church at 7 and then going to a party at my ex husband's father's house (obviously still get along well with the ex-in-laws) on Christmas Eve. I offered to back out of the party and let them attend with my daughter, but they both (he and his new wife) insisted that I go.

So Christmas Eve day. My daughter returns to the house to get ready for church with her new step sister in tow. I tell my ex that this is fine - as long my daughter is happy I am glad to watch both girls and bring them to church.

But it hits me 30 minutes later. I am babysitting my ex's new stepdaughter. This is just weird.

Sooo we head out to chuch, me, the daughter and the stepsister. 1 hour early because Christmas Eve masses are so crowded at this church. We take a seat in the back row and I proceed to daydream and people watch. I am not that into mass. I have serious issues with organized religion in general and my own separate issues with the Catholic Church. But I like the incense and creepy Saints statues and crucifixes, the rituals oh the rituals, and man I really dug that DaVinci Code. Oh that was about an alternate view of the church and christianity wasn't it? Hmmm. Whatevah. Anyway, I digress.

Observation 1: Catholics do not dress well.

Observation 2: Catholics at this chuch are, for the most part, not attractive people.

Let me begin by saying there were no hotties anywhere except for a 17 year old boy in a suit about three rows away. Barely legal and I am, unfortunately, truly old enough to be his mother. This church holds hundreds and no cuties in sight.

And the clothing! Catholics look uncomfortable in their dress up clothes. Its like they try, and they are on the right path, but they just don't quite look good enough. (Squint your eyes for effect while saying this - like they come sooo close but ahhh sad to say bless your heart, no.) Like the cute girl in high school AP English - cute but not hot, the hair not quite right but not wrong either, the clothes very Kohl's or Target, and the walk in high heels is not up to par. She dates the football kicker perhaps, or a soccer player, but never the quarterback.

I think Episcopalians and Jews dress the best (more money and taste) and Baptists the worse (those horrible uptight suits that still have shoulder pads in them from Belk.)

I am thinking of these things to keep my mind off the fact that I am saving seats for my ex husband and his new wife, due to arrive at church at any moment.

So they arrive, and we all hug and say hi and the kids are all lined up and I am, very tactfully, sitting next to the new wife. (BTW I purposely dressed up and looked hot for this. I was not very interested in my ex when I was married to him, and even less so after I left him, but I am indeed competitive. It was a good look too, by the way the suburban dad in the other back row was staring.)

I always try to figure out families around me - who is the dad, who is the uncle, etc. - while mass is going on as it keeps me from thinking about the mindless banter of the liturgy, and I would imagine the parishoners around us were confused if they play that game too. Who belongs to who?

My mind wanders to Ivy League. Mmm mmm good. What is that absolutely delicious guy doing with me??? That boy can eat crackers in my bed anytime. Amen! Sex on the kitchen island. Pray for me lord! Making out in a parking lot. I am not worthy! It goes on from there - I had a lot to choose from to think about where he is concerned.

I expect lightening to strike me at any time.