A Bridget Jones Christmas

At the age of 36, I finally, for the very first time, had Christmas Eve and morning at my own home, not my parent's or ex in-law's. It was really, really great.
Then, I drove to my hometown, where my parents and ex husband's parents still live. It turned into a Bridget Jones- type Christmas... Christmas hell with the parents.
I went to my parent's for Christmas dinner, where I ate my mother's dried up turkey (she readily admits she can't cook for crap) and listened about all her ailments, how many people she knows have cancer, about everything she doesn't like about my Dad, and how much weight she thinks I've gained.
I had so much fun there that I decided to visit my in-law's, where the Boy was spending the night with his Dad. There, my ex MIL got in two snide cracks designed to show that she is the supreme authority on raising children and I am a moron and shouldn't be entrusted with raising one of her precious grandchildren (she does it to all her kids, and she's actually a very nice person, so I try not to take it personally, but it still makes me want to strangle her.)
Best of all, my ex husband decided to make yet another attempt at winning back my heart, because apparently he's growing tired of his 22 year old girlfriend. I declined politely, on the grounds that he's an arsehole. Ick!