Holy Honesty

A week or so ago, we had Christmas. This blog is meant to be all about honesty, so let me go ahead and be honest here.
Christmas? Not so much fun for me, really.
The eleventy dozen kids that live with me are none of them as appreciative as I believe they should be. They're entitled and spoiled, and it makes me nuts. However, they are also lucky that Daddy enjoys shopping and giving gifts. So their Christmas isn't ruined by my grinchy behavior, and I am talked down from the ledge that would have me returning everything throughout the couple of months we spend shopping and hiding and wrapping.
On top of all that, there's the whole family obligation bullshit to deal with. Husband's family is awesome.
My own?
Not so much.
Actually, my family is great. Too far away to actually see often, but nice. My mother?
Not. Nice.
So when I have to see her, I'm only filled with anxiety and dread. Why, then, do I still feel compelled to spend any time whatsoever with her? Why bother spending my previous time with someone who makes me so unhappy?
Well, because I have kids, that's why. I want my children to have a good relationship with me when they're my age, so I pretend to be able to handle being civil to my own mother.
This flawed logic?
Totally bananas.