In laws - out laws (a short story)

The Highly coveted Christmas pudding

Let’s be honest, for many people there’s a lot of ‘not in the true spirit’, stresses around Christmas time. Sure, hovering somewhere in the background is the true Spirit (love, joy, peace, promise of salvation etc), unfortunately, for far too many of us (even though we make a promise it will never happen again) we approach Christmas festivities whilst side-stepping either a straight jacket, bankruptcy or, dare I say it, the in-law family.

As from about July as we enter the shops (just trying to mind our own business and get the weekly groceries) we are bombarded by the booming ‘commercialism supreme’ loud speakers and advertising. We are told that Christmas is at its best whilst burning out our credit cards, shopping, shopping and more shopping. “Look!’ It screams. “Is your tree as big as this tree?”........ “Are you sure your child will not suffer permanent emotional trauma if they don’t get one million presents?”.......... “How about a ‘get away from the rat race holiday?.........“Don’t worry, you can lay by your goods and pick up just before Christmas. And as an extra incentive, we won’t ask for a deposit - can’t get any fairer than that!” And of course here in South Australia we have the almost out of control ‘competitive’ yet ‘magnificent’ neighborhood lights (we manage to celebrate this at the same time as promoting energy efficient anti global warming practices). Let’s not forget there’s always the added pressure of the turkey - or shall we have prawns?

I make it sound like sounds like gloom and doom. Thankfully, Spirit offers some glitter of hope. All will be well so long as a certain something 'special' happens. My something 'special' was the Christmas pudding.

Let me explain.

For twenty years, I endured (I mean shared), Christmas with my husband’s family. You have to understand, that amounted to twenty years of the in-laws ‘My way or the highway’, philosophy.

I don’t want to sound mean or ungrateful (nor dare I say, bitter), after all we had the massive tree and the charitable present handing out ceremony (husband was the only boy,with lots of sisters, and he never took advantage of his right to be heir!). We had the food in plenty and alcohol drinks for those who drank (self being the only non drinker). We had the turkey (always cooked by favorite son in law) and Great aunty-in-law’s asparagus. And of course there was the famous, and highly coveted, mother-in-law Christmas pudding. I’ll be honest, that pudding was worth every insufferable moment of the 'in-law Christmas extravaganzas'. Year after year I stoically endured the competitive Christmas’s as long as I got a piece of ‘That pudding’!

'That pudding' is the best. It is worth making sacrifices for. They know it, I knew it.

Twenty years of Christmas with the in laws (like I said before, as if there isn’t enough stress at Christmas) and then......... I separated from their son.

Christmas twenty two was going to be different. Christmas twenty two was going to be (come hell or high water) me and the kids doing it (as Aretha Franklin so powerfully exclaimed) ‘......MY WAY!’.

Actually, Christmas twenty two was me and the kids and the ex and his mum. How it actually came to be is still a bit of a blur (guilt, most likely). Anyhow, the saving grace from this shock was the reassurance that by way of compensation m-in-law was bringing along that famous pudding.

So, Christmas day arrives. The tree is up and dressed, the presents wrapped and the turkey is cooking to perfection. All is well.

Ex arrives with his mum who discreetly hands over the highly coveted offering. My mouth is watering. Nothing else matters. Let the turkey burn for all I care. Twenty years of insufferable Christmas past is all forgiven. I open up the bag and reverently slip the famous pudding into the fridge.

“Oh cry a little cry for me”. This can’t be happening. It’s another joke, surely? For there, sitting on my refrigerator shelf, looking as proud as proud could be is a ‘Big Sister’ Christmas pudding.

Oh well there is always Christmas twenty three.