"It might be my last Christmas...."

To end out this season of Stressmas I bring you a little craft I did early on in December as an "Art Therapy" project to help me face the upcoming bullshit.

I told you all a bit about my MIL a couple of years back as part of  2021 Stressmas Wrap Up.  Every year she pulls the same BS about it being her last Christmas and that's why we should all bend to her will and whims.  This year she has started in with every holiday is her last now.  It may be her last Thanksgiving..  It may be her last Mother's Day....It may be her last Arbor Day. 

The thing is that it could be any of our last New Year's Day.  And I'm not going into details but no one knows this more than Mr. Husband, PB, and I.  We have had 3 years of fairly constant tragedies, loss, and deaths...and she knows this.

So since she seems to love to proclaim it's her last Christmas so much I decided she needed a sweatshirt for the special occasion...kinda like Baby's First Christmas but for an adult sized whiny self centered baby.

I included on the back of the sweatshirt several years marked out since the "last" doesn't ever play out.  I only started with 2018 because of the size of my stencils but this "last" shit has been going on far longer than 2018.

 

My plan was once she said her "it may be my last Christmas" line I was going to say "Oh! Speaking of that, I forgot I have another gift for you." and present her with this sweatshirt.  

She doesn't have much of a sense of humor when someone calls out her BS so everyone else would have enjoyed the laugh and benefited from the therapy of it.

On Christmas Day after having to sit there and have her talk at us for several hours I was all zoned out as we were packing up and I apparently missed THE LINE.  Mr. Husband says to me in the car she was right there in the kitchen as we were leaving saying it!  Well damn. 

This whole situation would be "funny" if it wasn't happening to us.   It's the stuff theatre plays are made from.  A domineering alpha female that sees herself as the matriarch of her dumpster barking demands at everyone, that will call your phone 6 times in a row and not for an emergency but just because you didn't pick up the first time (this is why she doesn't have my phone number) and likes to leave rude, self pity comments on all of your facebook posts (again, this is why I don't have a facebook). Maybe years down the way when it has actually been her last Christmas we can begin the healing process from the nasty attitude, self absorbed, woe-is-me nonsense she puts us through. But for now I have this sweatshirt that gives me a chuckle.  Honesty she doesn't deserve this sweatshirt.  She would just ruin it by dumping a bunch of dog piss pads on it.  It's safe with me.  

The good news is that in a way it is her last Christmas, all of our last Christmases hopefully with her.  She is... knock-on-wood... going to be moving across the country by the summer to live with her daughter who must have a good hook up for the vast variety of drugs (legal and not) to deal with her on a daily basis.