The 48 Hour Rule

Whenever the holidays come around, my family comes up to NYC to visit me (actually, my mom and dad could give 2 shits about hanging out with me.  They come up here for Ann Taylor and the Christmas Tree). When it comes to my family, I have one rule, after 48 hours they MUST leave.  I can only handle my mom and dad's idiosyncrasies for 2 days and 2 days ONLY.  After 2 days, all hell breaks loose.  All loving relationships are destroyed, manners are thrown to the wind and we all revert back to 1987 - when the house was filled with rage.

My dad is the most inpatient person in the world.  He is crazy about punctuality (when dad is ready to go somewhere, you best be ready to go, because the motherfucker will leave you in a heartbeat).  My mom smokes like a freaking chimney.  She goes through 2 packs of Cowboy Reds/day.  This shit drives me up a fucking wall.  Hard.

Also, my parents are Redneck-Republican-Conspiracy-Theorist-Bible-Beaters.  They never miss an opportunity to tell me how Obama has ruined the world.  My dad likes to tell me, "Amy, if I want the truth, I watch O'Reilly". He's serious.  Me nor my sisters spoke to my dad after the election.  He literally cried to my sister, "where did I go wrong?  How is it possible that I raised 3 democrats".  Calling someone a "democrat" is my dad's favorite slur/"cut down". 

Don't get me wrong, I love, love, love my dysfunctional family.  Well, it took me years and years and years of therapy to overlook their bullshit and love them. Years and years!!  But, after 48 hours, my love begins to diminish.  I need at least 6 months to fill up my patience reserve to deal with the next family holiday.