The One with the Dressing

Every family celebrates holidays differently. For my family, Thanksgiving was always a laid-back time of food, football and laughter. We don't get uptight about the food, but we do set out the fancy china and my sister and I always would make little placecards for every. My mom still has them back to when we were in grade-school. When you fall in love with someone, you get to spend a lot of those holidays with their family and of course, their traditions are different. That leads me to ... The One with the Dressing.

This Thanksgiving was spent at Chandler's parents house. Those in attendance were his parents, his grandparent's (the Mitchell's), his sister, her K-State husband and their two girls. I was assigned to bring the dressing. I took it upon myself to also make a pumpkin pie. So Thanksgiving morning, I got up and made the cornbread for the dressing (you mean you don't just pour the breadcrumbs out of the StoveTop cannister?) and made the pumpkin pie. Against my will, Chandler thought we could just assemble the dressing and bake it (for an hour) at his mom's. I was nervous. I had a foreshadowing that all food should be prepared when we arrived, but there wasn't enough time. We were supposed to eat at noon (another thing my family does differently, we usually eat in the afternoon), and if I baked it at my house, we would be late.

So Chandler walks in the door first, carrying all the groceries to make the dressing. I'm not sure what exactly was said, but his sister was not happy that we were so irresponsible and unprepared as to show up an hour b/4 we were supposed to eat and expect to cook the dressing there. I was irrate. The potatoes weren't even washed yet! No yams were yamming. Nothing was done yet. Then there was another comment, from the same sister, about how she "got in trouble for giving it away in the first place." Because we all know what an incompetent cook I am. So I'm not a Pampered Chef consultant. Sor-ry!

Anyway, I was pretty pissed. I didn't say anything, just got my ass to work on that stuffing. Chandler's mom apologized for her. But she, of course, never apologized. Just pretended like it never happened. Her job was to make a salad. B/c that's all she ate for Thanksgiving dinner. So I excused her behavior, assuming that her blood sugar was low.

Then today, not quite a week after Thanksgiving, I get an email from her apologizing for her behavior, and for all the times in the past that she may have hurt them. (Obviously, we're not the best of friends.) Holy shit, I thought. It must be the Apocalypse. Hell has frozen over. Someone informed her that she has been a royal bitch to me for the past 8 years. (Actually, it's gotten a lot better since we had David. Apparently I am more acceptable now that I've become a mother. Which is a whole other post ...)

So I guess I will reply and tell her I appreciate the apology. Becuase I do. But it's a little late sister to become the best of friends. That ship has sailed. She made little-to-no-effort to welcome me into her family. So I'm holding the infamous Weaver grudge. But you can't just poop on someone for years and then expect them to trust you. Even if I have forgiven her, I'm never going to let my guard down with her. I'm not going to let her in. Besides, if we didn't both love Chandler, we would NEVER be friends. We have NOTHING in common. We don't think alike AT ALL. Ahhh ... in-laws! Can't live with 'em and your spouse won't let you kill 'em.