'Twas a week before Christmas
And all through the mall
Old people were shopping
With walkers and all
With Spawn in his stroller
And I quite deranged
We travelled with Gutsy
To do an exchange
I could continue, but wouldn't that be boring? I only write good poetry in the wee hours of the morning with my eyes half shut. True talent works when the brain doesn't.
Come to think of it, if that statement were true I'd be very, very talented all of the time.
We did go to the Old People Maul to do an exchange, though. It's a Christmas story worthy of its own made-for-television movie: The Maven's Holly Jolly Suicide Run, perhaps.
Apparently my life isn't chaotic enough, so I have to come up with new ways to drive myself to an early grave. Not only have I eaten a great deal of holiday treats intended as gifts to people I either forgot or can't be bothered to buy a gift for (editor's note: please disregard statement if you receive holiday treats for Christmas. You're not like the others. They were made with love just for you.), but I also make random trips to the mall with two children in the middle of one of the busiest shopping weeks of the year.
I was so proud of The Sister's Boyfriend's gift. It was, in my opinion, the best gift of the litter (are there litters of gifts?) and I was looking forward to giving it to him. Chemgineer was to receive a Snakes and Ladders drinking game. I very much intended to live vicariously through him as he downed shooters every time he landed on a snake. I was also hoping he'd eventually get intoxicated enough that I could convince him to say 'Crikey!' when he did, too (In Maven's world, there's nothing funnier than making really smart, future chemical engineers do stupid things while drunk. This is the theory anyway. I haven't had the pleasure just yet.)
Unfortunately, The Sister informed me that he may already have that gift. No living vicariously through the non-alcoholics in my life. No cheap imitations of prematurely deceased, Australian animal enthusiasts, either.
Not only were my hopes dashed, but the huge I-can't-believe-I'm-finally-done-shopping grin was instantly wiped from my face. On Saturday night I had returned home with a blissfully sleeping Spawnling and $277 worth of last minute gifts and stocking stuffers (I wish I could say that's all we spent this year, but I'd be lying the way people lie when they say they only spent $10 at the casino all night.) I nearly collapsed on the bed out of sheer relief and exhaustion. No more malls. No more gifts to buy. No more people at the bank laughing at me. No more Geekster frowning at me. Thinking the Christmas shopping marathon had come to an end was great for the two days it lasted.
One more mall trip, I told myself. Just one more. After I picked up Gutsy from preschool we made our way into my treasured mall of senior citizens and fellow moms. I didn't expect any smiles or niceness, being Christmas. That would be like expecting Britney Spears to grow some talent or Justin Timberlake to come out of the closet: not very likely.
Well, JT may just dump Cameron for a wedding planner and Ms. Spears might actually write her own single yet, because I found friendly people a week before Christmas! I knew I had to go into a kitchen store with aisles too small for a stroller and breakable stuff stacked atop stacks of boxes containing other breakable stuff, so I opted to just carry Spawnling and very carefully guide Gutsy throught the maze of stoneware and martini glasses. The middle gremlin was incredibly well-behaved. By that I mean when I said 'Gutsy, please don't touch', he would put it back and go touch something else. 'Don't touch anything' was lost on him amid the pretty, shiny things calling to him at eye level. I don't blame him; I can't stop touching things in that store either and I'm 26 years older than he is.
After a few 'Please, honey... no... don't... AAH! Ok, that almost broke! For the love of all that is... Ack! Come stand over here, ok?' type statements, a gentleman in front of me in line said 'Ma'am, you can go ahead of me. Please. I don't mind.'
Then the woman ahead of him said 'You have your hands full. Please go ahead of me, too.' She smiled and waved me on with her free hand.
The woman ahead of her said 'You can go ahead of me, too. Here you go.' and moved aside. I was now at the front of the line.
Ah, Christmas spirit. I found it in the Old People Mall! How kind. How generous. How...
'Oh, um. Do you want to do an exchange? It's just that... Well, I don't know if I can right now. It's, like, two pages to fill out and there's a really long line right now...Are you sure you don't mind coming back? Sorry about that.'
Rats. Ruined by the overwhelmed kitchenwares sales associate and a chain store's user unfriendly exhange policy. Bah, humbug.
I left with the snakes and ladders game in hand and headed back to the van.
Oh well. That pales in comparison to the fact that people were actually nice in such a hectic, stressful environment. It's amazing that such a small gesture can have such an impact. It's the domino effect; just as one lone driver in rush hour traffic honking impatiently can inspire others to be as moronic, so it is proven that one lone man with his arms full of last minute gifts can inspire others to let a mom and two little gremlins jump ahead in a line.
I should have invited them all over for a game of snakes and ladders. Instead I wrapped up some homemade goodies for my pregnant neighbour and her spouse. This kindness thing is infectious. Like ringworm.
Oh, and have I mentioned that I found my keys four days after they fell out of Intrepid's pocket? They were next to the sidewalk across the street in the grass. And for some reason the parts the dealership ordered to replace the locks and lost fob (grand estimated total: $350+tax) didn't come in on Thursday as planned. The next morning, the snow had melted and I found my keys.
The next time someone says 'Jesus loves you' I'm going to reply with 'Damn straight! He let me cut the line in Stokes and found my keys.'
I wonder if I might get my ass kicked for that.
Someone loves me, that's for sure. Jesus, Santa, my mom, the creepy guy down the road who's always going for walks with his equally creepy wife and grins at me in that weird way... I'll take what I can get, ok?