This is the year that I will remember as the year that holidays stunk to high heaven.  I am not sure what has happened, but we seem incapable of having  a calm holiday, here at home with everyone simply enjoying being around each other.  And I am just not sure what to do with all of this holiday disappointment.

I guess I should revise that-- this is the season that holidays have stunk to high heaven. 

I suppose it started with the passing of my grandmother.  This year Noah's birthday was on Easter, something that won't happen again until 2038, and unfortunately her passing mid-April meant that the plans for both of these special days had to be scrapped.  We  so wanted to take the opportunity to use the holiday weekend to head home, book a really cool venue and do the obsessive parent party thing, and to get to celebrate Easter with Grandmas, Grandpas and all of the assorted extended family. 

Instead we found ourselves driving 12 hours one way to Arbyrd, MO and back, which was a sad, beautiful, wonderful and terrifying trip (we ended up holed up in a hotel just south of St. Louis the night of their recent tornadoes as we raced back trying to get home so that we wouldn't have to travel Easter morning.)

Then came Mother's Day, where I got to celebrate a bit the night before, but got to spend the actual day driving Jim to the airport and dealing with a crabby toddler.  That day ended with me weeping about my happy holiday after Noah threw a block that hit me in the head.  Yeah, happy Mother's Day to me. 

Then, Memorial Day was relatively okay.  We drove home to MI for a whirlwind weekend trip since the only family we had seen since Christmas was at the funeral, and we wanted to have some family fun.  We got to have a great do-over party for Noah, but once again we managed to bring the tornadoes with us despite oddly chilly weather (we have literally been in three different towns this spring as they have had tornadoes or similar storms touch down) and spent the actual holiday driving home to MN and marvelling at the uncharacteristically nice weather.

Now comes Father's Day.  Poor Jim will not only be working  a show at the convention center that day, but also be doing tear down that night, which means that he will get done at about 10 pm that day.  I would choose another day that week to celebrate, but Monday is another show's set up, and right now he is in Chicago for some company meetings. 

We have high hopes for Independence Day though.  We are all going to be in town, we have a three day weekend, and Jim scored Twins tickets for that weekend from work, so everything is lined up for a relaxing time.  Then, shortly after that is my birthday, where my folks will be visiting and hopefully I will even get to have a DATE with my hubby for my birthday!  Wonders never cease. 

However, I can't seem to feel excited about those possibilities.  I am all set for the eventuality that something will go wrong and we will spend the next holidays fulfilling jury duty, or something just as festive.  I suppose it is my faulty, for I always put a lot into holidays and the feelings of holidays-- we were even married on Thanksgiving weekend- one of my favorites.  I jokingly told Jim that I am done with holiday planning from here on out, which is usually one of my favorite things to do. 

So what do I do with all of this holiday disappointment?  Do I never plan another special day for my family?  Do I take it as a sign that I am not meant to celebrate-- which I dearly love?  Or do I take it as a challenge and plan the most elaborate 4th of July weekend ever?  What was your worst holiday disaster ever?

(I think I can remember one from my childhood involving chicken pox and the words, "I hate Christmas" coming out of my mouth-- so maybe this trend isn't as recent as I have been thinking it is.)