onLeave a Comment on Every year, my husband and his family blamed me for “ruining” Christmas. This year, I finally stopped showing up—and stopped paying for the celebration they expected me to cover. By 6:30 p.m., my phone started ringing over and over. The same people who said I spoiled the holiday were suddenly desperate to know where I was and why nothing was going according to plan. 
“That was a joke.”
“You said I need the production more than anybody.”
“Leah.”
“Do you believe that?”
He sighed.
“You’re making this heavier than it was.”
“That is not an answer.”
“We were talking.”
“I know.”
“Guys say stupid things.”
“You’re fifty-four.”
