Oh yeah..this is why I hate going home..

It's Easter. I've decided to add that to my list of holidays I hate. I mean, I don't dislike it as much as Christmas, but it's up there.

I get home Thursday, I go to church, yada yada yada. Friday, I go grocery shopping with my dad where I am checked out (in front of my dad) by a 16 year old grocery guy. Woot, go me with the cradle-snatching. We stop by my grandpa's for 5 minutes where I am completely nice and welcoming to the girlfriend and then we go home, where I put away groceries and bake two batches of cinimon rolls (one just for my dad so he can have raisens in it). Then on Saturday we go down to Rosalind to drop stuff off with the contractor and come back home, where I bake my daddy a double batch of cookies and then I made a cake. And while I'm cleaning up after making these cookies and cake, my parents get to talking about how young people are moving intogether these days and how they are immature and shouldn't be moving in together when they don't have the ability to commit to a relationship because they don't even know what a relationship means!

Well, excuse me, but I think I'm pretty mature and know how to commit to a relationship. But I asked if I was being included in this rather unfair stereotype, and I was told I was. Well thanks for the vote of confidence, now why don't you tell me what you really think of me? Because CLEARLY I'm far too immature, what with going through three years of IB voluntarily and going to parties where we played cranium and watched movies. CLEARLY the fact that I graducated with pretty decent marks, got Rutherford, and got in to U of A shows how immature I am. CLEARLY making it through almost two years without any major screwups is pretty darn immature. And CLEARLY having a two and a half year relationship with someone and holding on and trying to fix it until there was no relationship left shows my INABILITY to commit. What a dissapointment I must be.

And today I was a good daughter and went to church and sang in the choir and then came home and helped get dinner on the table for our family dinner and then spent the entire after-dinner visiting time in the kitchen cleaning up. And then after I got through the over an hour it took to clean up, I refreshed drinks and fetched newspaper articles and escorted people out. And then cleaned some more. HOW FREAKING IMMATURE OF ME. And to top off my wonderful weekend, this morning when I got up my mother told me I didn't look very good. Thanks, I have a mirror. I'm pretty sure I know I look terrible.

I may be overly sensitive, but they are overly critical. And if I have to spend one more holiday hearing "you're such a jerk", "tell me what to do again and I'll beat you", "I'm always the one doing all the work and you guys do nothing", and several other irritating and oh-so-loving phrases, I'm going to run away and join the circus.

And they wonder why I hate family dinners.