Christmas fighting

[Dick Whitman]

The other night, while doing the Christmas thing with my wife's family, I settled into bed and soon was jarred by the traditional sounds of the holiday: Two people screaming at each other at the top of their lungs.

This time, it was my two brothers-in-law (my wife's brothers), battling it out over some perceived verbal jab over the weekend that may or may not have occurred. Also in the ring was a similar perceived verbal jab delivered 20 years prior. It wasn't a huge surprise - the tension had clearly been building in the one brother-in-law all weekend long. It was just a matter of if the dynamite would ignite before the night was over or not. It did. The straw that broke the camel's back? The one brother-in-law asking if someone could turn the TV down, because he had a short night of sleep ahead of him and a long drive in the morning. This, apparently, was another sign of his "moral superiority."

Anyway ... it took me back to the lovely Christmases of my youth, when no December 25th was complete without a knock-down drag-out battle royale between my mom and dad about some sort of unresolved, unaddressed family issue - often something that an extended family member may or may not have said or may or may not have meant at the annual gathering.

What I'm getting at: Why do people fight so much on Christmas? Are they looking for a reason to get pissed off? Is there anyway to survive this minefield other than announcing that I completely withdraw from the holidays, and I'll see everyone on the Fourth of July?

It is something I am seriously considering. The tension and the gift-giving pressure and everything else associated with the holiday is just more than I feel like dealing with at this point.

 

[mustangj17]

My parents always host Christmas eve and it turns into a ****ing nightmare shouting matches. It has gotten so bad over the years that I would actually request Christmas Eve as my holiday to work in the newsroom so I didn't have to put up with it.

This year, my girlfriend is coming over and she will be meeting the family. My brother says it is a terrible idea and he is probably right, but I'm not sacrificing spending the holidays with someone whose company I actually enjoy because my family is bat-**** crazy.

I already told my parents if there is one hint of trouble, we're leaving and spending Christmas Eve at Applebee's.

 

[Mizzougrad96]

These were my Christmases as a kid.

Wake up at one parent's house. Then, hope on a plane or a train to visit the other parent.

Those were the good years, when my father lived out of town. When he lived in town and we woke up at his place he would always pull some **** that would result in delivering us two hours late to my mom's to try to ruin her day.

The moral of the story is, if you want your kids to grow up and hate you, pull that kind of **** when they're kids.

Good times...

 

[black dude with pompano]

Family drama+Christmas= tons of stress.

Not to be a grinch, but my happiest adult Christmases are spent far, far away from family members. Or maybe drive in for a Christmas lunch, drive out a few hours later.

If I have to stay more than 24 hours, I just start drinking and hope to block everything out.

 

[YGBFKM]

Christmas Eve 1989. Alcohol. A pickle flies across the kitchen table. Voices raise. Children wake up crying. Swearing. A relative flies down the stairs. A punch is thrown. More swearing. The cops arrive. The wee hours of Christmas morning. Eating cheeseburgers at an all-night greasy spoon. Awesome memory.

 

[Dick Whitman]

Thanks for letting me vent. It's so gratifying to hear that misery has company where this is concerned.

Length of stay can be a huge factor, I think.

With my in-laws, it's a 48-hour-plus visit, with two nights spent with everyone under one (little) roof. That includes five children under age 8. Whenever I tell my wife it seems like a bit much, though, she tells me that she "likes spending time with my family." I think it's particularly uncomfortable when you are an in-law and getting pulled into the middle of the drama.

 

[black dude with pompano]

Thanks for letting me vent. It's so gratifying to hear that misery has company where this is concerned.

Length of stay can be a huge factor, I think.

With my in-laws, it's a 48-hour-plus visit, with two nights spent with everyone under one (little) roof. That includes five children under age 8. Whenever I tell my wife it seems like a bit much, though, she tells me that she "likes spending time with my family." I think it's particularly uncomfortable when you are an in-law and getting pulled into the middle of the drama.

I think that's a big factor. When it's your own blood, yes they're crazy people, but at least they're your own crazy people.

 

[Steak Snabler]

My brother and I got into a huge shouting match at Christmas about 7 years ago. Basically, I was calling him out on 35 years of being full of ****. We haven't had a cross word since.

Only drawback is it made my mother cry. I felt bad about that.

 

[dooley_womack1]

Christmas Eve 1989. Alcohol. A pickle flies across the kitchen table. Voices raise. Children wake up crying. Swearing. A relative flies down the stairs. A punch is thrown. More swearing. The cops arrive. The wee hours of Christmas morning. Eating cheeseburgers at an all-night greasy spoon. Awesome memory.

The same greasy spoon you had Thanksgiving dinner at?

 

[YGBFKM]

What?

 

[Starman]

Sheesh.

I never remember any Christmas fights whatsoever in either branch of our family.

But in the summertime at the cottage when it was hot and everybody was drinking -- whoo nellie.

 

[Bodie_Broadus]

Christmas Eve 1989. Alcohol. A pickle flies across the kitchen table. Voices raise. Children wake up crying. Swearing. A relative flies down the stairs. A punch is thrown. More swearing. The cops arrive. The wee hours of Christmas morning. Eating cheeseburgers at an all-night greasy spoon. Awesome memory.

A relative flies down the stairs?

Oh, my.

 

[Evil ... Thy name is Orville Redenbacher!!]

Christmas not so much... With my parents it was every Sunday - over lunch.
After church, my dad went to early church, my mother went to 11 a.m. mass. When she came home and started to fix lunch it was only a matter of time. Pretty much the same **** every week.
My dad either would or would not say something that my mother would perceive as a slight and it erupted from there and ended with my mom crying and dad pissed.

My mom thinks my dad is alcoholic (because he drinks more than one beer at a sitting, seriously). In fairness, my dad used to be a real hateful mother ****er. Just a SOB to be around. He had an affair when I was in college (though I think it was more due to the fact mom was clinging to the church).
When he retired and my brother died and he changed 180 degrees.
My mom ... if she wasn't married I swear she'd be a nun if she had it to do over again. She uses religion as a crutch to sidestep the issues she has with my dad and my brother's suicide.
In addition to thinking dad is alcoholic - she blames him for my brother's suicide. She hates him - perhaps with good reason - but won't admit it.
My dad, also blames himself, but has made incredible strides since.

When my sister and I brought up the Sunday fights a few years ago my mom acted like she had no idea what we were talking about.

Wow. I ended up posting a lot more than I intended.. Just venting ...

 

[EStreetJoe]

 

[nmmetsfan]

When I was growing up every family gathering (which meant pretty much every holiday) would end with at least two of my uncles (or my aunts, or an aunt and uncle) outside physically fighting. That's what happens when you mix Irish blood with mass quantities of alcohol and occasionally cocaine.

After my grandparents died, we all went separate ways and I still don't interact with any of them. Life is peaceful now.

 

[Mizzougrad96]

When I was growing up every family gathering (which meant pretty much every holiday) would end with at least two of my uncles (or my aunts, or an aunt and uncle) outside physically fighting. That's what happens when you mix Irish blood with mass quantities of alcohol and occasionally cocaine.

After my grandparents died, we all went separate ways and I still don't interact with any of them. Life is peaceful now.

The worst is when people who don't want to see each other are forced together because of parents, grandparents etc...

I was completely indifferent to Christmas until I met my wife. Now, I love Christmas and everything that comes with it.

 

[wicked]

I'm hosting my parents this year for the first time. Every year, there's been some massive wrinkle involved. I'm hoping the change of scenery and a relatively full docket will help things go smoothly.

 

[StaggerLee]

Sadly, when I think of Christmas family gatherings, I can only recall the one Christmas where my dad and my step-grandfather got into a physical confrontation right after lunch.

My step-grandfather was a drunk who had Wild Turkey running through his veins that day. He called my mom, his step-daughter, a fat ***** and my dad confronted him and my step-grandfather threw a punch. A knocked-over table and several frightened kids later, they were pulling my dad off the drunk.

Needless to say, that was the last time we had a big family gathering for Christmas. In the 20 years since, we've gone to my parents' house and kept it very small and very casual.

I told my wife that I'd love to start hosting an annual Christmas family gathering, but every time I even mention it, I get this weird flashback and realize what we currently do is perfect.

 

[User 11148]

I don't know the name of the artist off the top of my head, but there's a song that's quite appropriate for this thread. The title is "I don't like half the folks I love."

 

[blacktitleist]

Twice in the last 10 years, my older brother has been arrested at my mother's house during breakfast on Christmas morning.

The last time it happened, he had his flavor of the week with him and she acted like it was no big deal and continued eating her meal. They had been "dating" about two weeks, apparently. Then she stayed and watched us open our presents. It was the first time--and last time--we ever saw her.

Weird.