Can't. Win.

So I give Dad his present of endless Christmas goodies so he can go ahead and munch through the holiday, right? And here's exactly what was said when my sister saw him eating a Little Debbie Cake.

Sis: "What, is Karen trying to kill you -- that's gonna raise your blood sugar"

Me (walking in the door with presents): "Oh, a little blood sugar isn't gonna kill him! It's Christmas!"

"Well, a blood sugar of 100 won't but 400 will."

"It's. Christmas."

I swear, I just can't win. This is gonna be a loooong night. Can't wait till she opens her present and proceeds to hate it. And Tim's already griping about how he's got to get Cole home and to bed AND HE'S NOT EVEN HERE YET. I asked Jenn if she was coming straight over after work or if she was gonna chill first -- I got my head bit off. And Dads... well.

I miss Klonopin soooo much. Maybe I should just go ahead and schedule and appointment with a therapist. "And why do you need to see the doctor?" "Christmas"

I swear one day someone's gonna stab someone with a fork at a holiday dinner. It's gonna happen. I'm just sayin'


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