Yesterday while coming home on the subway I logged onto BCP from my Blackberry. Before long I was reading BiscuitDoughJones’s passing reference to a heart-warming story from her youth — the Christmas her Grand-Daddy got drunk and started firing his shotgun into the sky, hoping to bring down one of Santa’s reindeers. I was soon helpless with laughter at the idea of this Coen Brothers-esque holiday moment, and soon was reminded of one of my own. In my family, it is known simply as Hell Easter, and it is rarely discussed. After the jump, read my horror story.
The cast of characters:
My sister, ridiculously hot-headed and occasionally violent. She played ice hockey and was frequently ejected from games.
My sister-in-law at the time, the Whitest-Trashiest biker chick you could ever imagine, covered in tattoos and completely insane. Remember when Charlize Theron uglied herself up to play that killer? She looked like that. Oh, and she, too, was violent, occasionally beating on my brother and slapping around her daughters from her first marriage.
My brother, a good guy with a self-esteem problem, apparently. It is the only way to explain how he married this woman. Thankfully he ultimately extricated himself and got custody of all four children, his two step-daughters and his two sons with the Biker Chick.
My mother, an upper-middle-class Nancy Reagan type consumed with appearances. Think Mary Tyler Moore in “Ordinary People.” I am certain my brother married the biker chick solely to piss my mother off, because she treated him worse than MTM treated Timothy Hutton in that film.
My two little blond-haired and adorable nephews and my two lovely nieces, sweet girls who deserved a better mother.
Me, 21 and hating my family’s guts, with the exception of the children. I believe I was also hungover from a night with my boyfriend at a boozecan.
So I don’t know what started it. I believe it had to do with my grandfather’s funeral the previous fall, and the Biker Chick’s bitter complaint that my mother had failed to invite her. My sister and I pointed out that you generally don’t invite people to a funeral, you just expect that family members will attend if they want to.
It got louder. My mother pretended it wasn’t happening and hustled the kids out of the house and to the local Easter parade. My sister and the Biker Chick started really going at it, with my brother trying to calm everything down. But my sister, who was PMSing, was spoiling for a fight with a madwoman who had already been institutionalized, which was starting to piss me off, because it was a no-brainer how it was going to go.
And sure enough, it went. A no-holds-barred, furniture-destroying, bare-knuckled brawl between my sister and the Biker Chick that apparently went on for about 15 minutes and drew blood on both sides.
I wouldn’t know. Because what did I do? I left the house. I put on my shoes and walked to my friend Ricky’s house, who lived a few blocks away, leaving my poor brother to break up the two shrieking banshees. When I returned two hours later, my brother was repairing broken chairs, my sister had left, and the Biker Chick was sitting on the couch with a black eye. My mother was cheerfully checking on the ham and playing Go Fish with the kids while bitching to my brother that he needed a haircut. Even when she returned to the house to find her TV room practically destroyed and her daughter-in-law with an icepack on her face because her daughter had pounded the crap out of her, my mother still found time to bust my brother’s balls.
My brother pulled me aside to smoke dope with him, and told me I was right to leave.
And it was never discussed again.
Tell us! What is your most horrific holiday domestic dispute?
December 3, 2008 at 9:39 pm
I don’t have any ruined holiday moments, not yet anyway. Nope, my horrific family moments are at non holiday events, you know, like my wedding.
December 3, 2008 at 9:52 pm
Oh Kadinsky you tease, do tell!
December 3, 2008 at 11:18 pm
Well, there was that Christmas my dad had one martini too many and I won at scrabble. We don’t talk about that.
We don’t really have big blow-ups. We’re WASPs with a side of British, so we just sit and stew and, after the fact, whisper about how mad we were.
December 4, 2008 at 12:01 am
when i was young and going to mexico for the holidays, the extended family would all get together (easily about 60-75 people including kids) and the kids were allowed to stay up til midnight to open presents. since it was an all day and night eating and drinking event, half of the grownups were pretty sloshed by the time midnight rolled around, but no one was out of hand. Anyway, after the presents all us kids would get sent to bed, which was completely ridiculous because we just opened a bunch of goddamn presents, of course we wanted to play with them!
So one year we put together a plan! A few of us kids decided to go to bed and then sneak back into the party after an hour or so. MY GOD. all of the adults were so trashed, and two of our uncles were acting gay. seriously. I don’t know if this was part of some bigger game but everyone else was just watching their skit (???), hitting on each other, talking in high-pitched voices, doing gay hand, etc. All the other grownups, including my GRANDPARENTS, were laughing so hard, and telling them what else to say or do. We were so confused!! They sent us to bed to watch our two uncles act gay??? WTF?
December 4, 2008 at 2:00 am
My parents (who had such a vicious marriage that thankfully ended in divorce about a decade ago) had their annual epic fight every single Easter. It would begin sometime around Holy Thursday or Good Friday. By Saturday there would be doors slamming and on Sunday someone would drive off in a huff. (usually my Father) There might also be chair-throwing or the breaking of a cast iron skillet. (that was my mother’s forte) Then silence. A lot of silence. I would do my best to keep my siblings occupied with Easter Eggs and possibly a movie. To this day the taste of ham and egg salad make me think of a marriage gone wrong. I also don’t care for Easter.
December 4, 2008 at 2:51 am
A few years after my parents’ divorce we spent Christmas at my dad’s and for some reason my big sister and dad got into a horrible fight which ended when my sister threw a cup full of hot tea at my dad’s head, which he dodged and it shattered on the wall. My sister stormed out and went back to my mother’s, I spent 10 minutes screaming hysterically on the couch.
Last Christmas I wasn’t taking my big sister’s crap anymore (I’ve been in therapy, I actually say stuff now, hurrah!) and so in the middle of dinner she started screaming like a banshee, accusing me of having been out to get her for days and then she ran into the kitchen screaming “And don’t any of you dare come in here, I WILL CUT YOU – … And it’s not because I just quit smoking!”
That was fun.
And then there was that time (not an actual holiday) when I turned 18 (the big birthday over here). My dad’s side of the family has 5 January birthdays, so we celebrated all of them on the day of my birthday. Which would’ve been fine if my stepmother had remembered (remembered, ha!) to tell her side of the family and her friends and basically anyone who came who wasn’t a direct relation of me that it was my fucking birthday.
Fortunately I had some fab friends over who did a conga-line, singing “Hey it’s Nanna’s birthday, Oh it’s Nanna’s birthday” and when my dad came over to assure me that my stepmother had not been to blame they told him to take a hike.
Okay. That was more than enough rambling.
December 4, 2008 at 10:07 am
We don’t have any knock-down drag-out fights, but I have a funny tale: On Thanksgiving one year, at my aunt’s my little sister (who was probably 6 at the time, maybe slightly older) looked at my grandparents (who were divorced and remarried, but still both came to family functions with their new spouses, who mostly acted cordial) and said in her high pitched squealy voice, shrugging her tiny shoulders, “So….what, did you two just get sick of each other?” The entire table erupted in hysterical laughter.
December 4, 2008 at 10:11 am
Oh, and every year my mother-in-law tries to kill me by including the ingredient I am allergic to into the meal somehow and then claims she “forgot”…some day that will end in a blow up fight I’m sure.
December 4, 2008 at 11:18 am
The 1st Thanksgiving my Brit husband spent with my family. My Aunt, who was prone to getting wasted beyond belief did just that and then for reasons I can’t remember threw a pie at my dad (lemon meringue!). He can be be pretty sarcastic so I’m sure he insulted her or something. We just went upstairs and got incredibly stoned.
@ Kadinsky: oh man! Do tell! I had a “friend” at my wedding who started to pitch a fit b/c i invited her ex (a friend of mine!) to my wedding. She told my sister I ruined her day and my sister took her outside and said “Listen bitch it’s not your day, shut up” Then her new boyfriend was threatening to ‘kick his ass’ at the reception. Needless to say she & I don;t talk anymore! You guys should totally do a nightmare wedding story post!
December 4, 2008 at 12:11 pm
“We don’t really have big blow-ups. We’re WASPs with a side of British, so we just sit and stew and, after the fact, whisper about how mad we were.”
Bangmaster, there aren’t a whole lot of cultural traits shared by WASPs and Jews, but it strikes me that intense passive aggression is definitely one of them. Your family sounds like my family.
December 4, 2008 at 12:37 pm
alright, gimme some time to write up just some of the bullshit that went down on my wedding day.
December 4, 2008 at 2:08 pm
Yay wedding day drama!
December 4, 2008 at 2:36 pm
My familly was so dysfunctional alcoholic dish-throwing that we actually behaved well on holidays, either because we were spent, or were afraid to REALLY go bonzo.
December 4, 2008 at 2:42 pm
Oh, and this isn’t a dispute exactly, but a fine example of sterling asshole behavior: Xmas, 2001, and I didn’t get to go home to New York from Madrid for the holidays, which bummed me out terribly, being just after 9/11. A friend invited me to have Christmas Even dinner with his extended family, all of whom I had met on other occasions. Weird in their way, but friendly. But at dinner, right after the toast and as we were digging into the roast lamb, his (right wing and I swear, closet case)brother in law turns to me and says, “You know, I don’t think that what Bin Laden did in New York was really so bad. You all deserve it for what Sharon has done to the Palestinians.” After I caught my breath and picked my jaw up from the floor, I calmly said, (rough translation from the Spanish) “You have some fucking nerve, mister, and if you keep up that line of conversation I’m going to stick this carving knife in your face. Now shut up and pass the potatoes.”
Obviously I’ve never been back THERE…
December 4, 2008 at 4:04 pm
We have an annual extended family Christmas gathering for my father’s side of the family. There weren’t any fights, but last year, two of my cousins were no shows because they’d gotten drunk together the week before and the male cousin beat up the female cousin’s husband.
Also, I brought my boyfriend to this event for the first time last year. He was using the bathroom when my 7-year-old cousin bursts in, completely unfazed that my boyfriend is standing there taking a piss. They both looked at each other for a moment and then the kid goes, “I bet you don’t know who I am!”
December 4, 2008 at 6:10 pm
Thanksgiving, when I was about 10. My mom and dad get into a huge-ass fight. My dad grabs one of the dogs, chokes her, and throws her against the wall. I continue to hide in the bathroom. My brother is hiding elsewhere in the house.
The dog was fine, by the way.
December 4, 2008 at 6:20 pm
Holidays consist of my mom letting no one help her in the kitchen, which is inevitably followed by her screaming that no one helps her, then slamming doors when we yell back she wouldn’t let us!
Then my younger brother gets mad and starts screaming at everyone, something about how we never pay attention to him, I don’t remember, and he goes off to his room to smoke pot and listen to loud music.
Dad huffs off to the garage to smoke a cigarette, and I sit there wondering why I have weird relationships and no examples of good ones to emulate.
But … afterward we all pretend everything is okay.
December 4, 2008 at 6:29 pm
@lalaland- Ouch. Not cool to take out one’s rage on innocent bystanders, especially when they’re animals. I’m glad the dog was okay, at least.
December 4, 2008 at 6:53 pm
MissSmith and Lala: At last I have found my people.
December 4, 2008 at 7:52 pm
oh gosh, trixie, that’s awesome.
one time, at a bbq, my younger sister was playing on this monkey bar thing on our swing set and my mom was like, “be careful!” and my aunt’s mom (who my mom doesn’t like very much) said, “don’t worry, i’m watching her.” ten minutes later we hear the sound of a fluuump fall onto the wood chips. the aunt’s mom, i guess, wasn’t watching her, and my little sister feel on her head from the monkey bars. my mom ran over to her “are you okay? baby, what happened?” and then turned into gargoyle mom and said to my aunt’s mom, “YOU SAID YOU WERE WATCHING HER! YOU WEREN’T WATCHING SHIT! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU WITCH!LEAVE!” – totally overreacting, her anger being fed by my little sister’s tears. dramaramalame.
December 4, 2008 at 8:31 pm
I can’t say we can top the black-eyed Biker Chick drama…but my mother playing Pictionary this Thanksgiving came pretty close. She got all Monica-on-Friends-like, all competetive.
My stepsister snarkily mentioned how our brother is equally competetive, so much so that his girlfriend walked out of the room when they played Pictionary. Our brother defended himself, saying he was just trying to help his girlfriend. I snarkily said, his girlfriend is a smart girl at [Ivy League] grad school, so she probably didn’t need his help with Pictionary.
Monica-Mom turned to my stepsister and I at this point, in defense of our brother (the youngest, perfect child), and called us both man-haters and said we’d better get over our divorces. (Our back to back divorces this year from control freak abusive types…hmmm…) Lovely.
December 4, 2008 at 9:09 pm
Brigid: Oh dear! That’s not nice at all! Pictionary brought out the demon in your mother!
December 4, 2008 at 10:54 pm
@TheDomina: girl!! MIL#2 tried the same shit with me, twice!
December 5, 2008 at 1:33 am
idea: the married with buttercups should do a session similar to this, with hairy in-law situations.
December 5, 2008 at 8:26 am
MissSmithDrankYourVodka Says:
Holidays consist of my mom letting no one help her in the kitchen, which is inevitably followed by her screaming that no one helps her, then slamming doors when we yell back she wouldn’t let us!
You pretty much summed up every holiday at the Amoureuse house. Even if you try to help, she’ll tell you that you were doing it wrong and then proceed to take over and complain about no one helping her out in the kitchen.
December 5, 2008 at 12:25 pm
Well, this Thanksgiving, my mother accused me of being an alcoholic, which was fun.
Background: I had two glasses of wine with lunch. That night, while waiting for a friend to drop in, I made myself a cocktail. Mom walks into the kitchen and says “Do you need that drink? Do you drink every night?”
Jesus. I understand that she rarely drinks, and that she’s not used to seeing people have the occasional cocktail “just because”. But seriously, woman, it was Thanksgiving!
I told her, truthfully, that no, I do not drink every night. I also told her that if she continued judging me, I would need a lot more than one cocktail to get through that weekend.
December 6, 2008 at 1:25 am
There was a Christmas I recall that involved horribly inappropriate gifts for children, a phone call to my crazed Grandmother and the use of the word “fuck” in so many different ways that my Mother could have won some kind of literary award for creative use of language.
My Father’s Mother was a real piece of work to say the least. (this is a woman who abandoned her children a couple of different times and also lied the way other people breathed.) She was also a drunk. She would call me up completely drunk at 2am Easern time (I live on the west coast) and she would offer to play “Old Man River” or “My Funny Valentine” on her electric organ for me.
Yes.
I know.
One year for Christmas she sent gifts in the mail. We opened them up and for my then nine year old brother she gave him a pair of Absolut vodka brand gloves. Because of course that is what every child needs. I received the most horribly alarming gift I have ever received in my time on this earth. She gave me this ancient vintage piece of lingerie. A teddy I believe. It had a note with it. It said she had worn it on her wedding night of her second wedding. While everyone is busy buying brain bleach and possibly pulling their eyeballs out after reading that sentence I would like to add the cherry on this scary ice cream sundae; I was thirteen years old at the time.
My Mother read the note and took a good look at the gloves and began to scream and curse in a way that would make the most hardened man blush. She immediately got on the phone to Grandmother and let her have it. It seems my Grandmother began to cry and scream back at her. I wish the whole conversation had been recorded. My Mother used some phrases that doesn’t bring to mind a cozy Christmas Day.
It was after that…incident that we stopped speaking to my Grandmother and generally that part of the family. Soon after the phone call my Father’s brother called and tried to tear into the family. Yeah he was going up against an amateur.
Cocktails were served early that day.
December 6, 2008 at 2:48 pm
Christmas Day, 2006: Screaming knock-down fight with my mother in a Days Inn outside Indianapolis, while both of us were wearing fur coats.
December 6, 2008 at 9:03 pm
Genevieve: That was kind of awesome. Good God, had the teddy been laundered?
December 6, 2008 at 11:41 pm
It did not appear to have been laundered. It smelled of smoke, old perfume and the general failure of humanity.
December 6, 2008 at 11:56 pm
Holy fucking hell Genevieve. Have you ever considered putting that in a book or screenplay?!
December 7, 2008 at 12:20 am
Seriously, Genevieve — that is at least a short story. Fascinating!
December 7, 2008 at 11:43 am
omg, that is horrific. you poor thing!
December 7, 2008 at 5:48 pm
Now years later it is a favorite hilarious family story to share with all kinds of people. (like the year my Mother was stuck snowed in another city and had to spend her Thanksgiving in a lesbian bar)
I forgot to mention that the teddy was a sort of Rust/orange color. We kept the teddy for a few years just to show people the proof of its existence. I think eventually mice or something ate it up.