Tis the Season I suppose

My phone chirps at 9am and I'm greeted by my mother's warm voice. "Limonine," she says, "It's today". She sounds more French than usual and I know she's been getting ready for today. My mother isn't French, but she and my dad lived in Montreal for a couple of years when they were first married. "Are you listening to me?"

"Of course," I say. I haven't been. She's been going over the schedule for the day -- when I'm picking her up, when we're expected to get to The Family, etc., and it's nothing we haven't discussed several times this week. Only more French this time.

My mother is in the unusual situation of being the Matriarch (based on being the eldest living) and the black sheep. This year, the previous Matriarch died at the commendable age of 101, and her eldest daughter is now in charge, but she also lost her mother this year, so she's extended an olive branch and they're welcoming the Cautions into the gathering for the first time in about 20 years.

"You'll dress appropriately?" She asks. I promise I will. I assure her I've gotten a professional haircut (as opposed to the "pinking shears at 3am" that I usually have), I have showered, and I will not wear anything outwardly offensive.

"Edibles when we get there are fine, Limonene, but please don't hotbox the guest bathroom." There's a pause. "Bring a few for me, too." At vaguely 78-82 she doesn't drink anymore, but can't stand the idea of facing the crowd sober and I respect that.

She is the black sheep, after all. She'd been a Beatnik, an Elder Hippie, the atheist at the table. The last few Christmas gatherings we went to we were seated in the kitchen, next to the stove, while the rest of the family (The "Christians") sat in the dining room. "There's just not enough room for everyone" they apologized.

If you think being sent to the Children's Table is insulting, think about sitting next to the stove and the dog's bowl and the trash can. Although we did have the ability to pop the back door open a little and get some cooler air while everyone packed into the dining room was overdressed and sweating.

We'll do our gift exchange at her house, before we leave. I already know she bought me a sweater, some socks, and a few books. I bought her earrings and a bracelet and a few books. It's always interesting to see if we've bought each other the same books. Every year there's usually one.

We're secretly hoping we'll be sent to the kitchen again this year. Although the number of adults has gotten smaller, there are many new grand and great-grand babies that are "too little" to sit alone at the kids' table and I'm pretty sure they don't want us getting our nonconformist germs on their little lambs.

I'm really tempted to hotbox the guest bathroom.