So I made the mistake of going out in public yesterday; a Sunday. A Sunday only 3 weeks before Christmas, and only 3 days before Hanukkah begins. What was I thinking? I was still so worked up yesterday that I couldn't even talk about it. If nothing else, I learned one very important lesson: I should not be allowed to leave my house between Dec 1st and Jan 1st; individual lives depend on it.
After I dropped the kid off at a birthday party in the depths of hell, I headed to an adult version of hell; JoAnn's. All I wanted to do was grab something I needed to finish a gift. First, I encountered a girl, early 20's, gabbing on her cell phone while walking through the store. "Oh, that's understandable. Well, maybe you're spending too much time together. Hey, I can make you a blanket with pink heeeaaartss on it for Christmas? I know you're okay with pink, I know you're secure in your manhood." On, and on, and on. And she wasn't talking to a little kid, she was talking to some guy about the girl he was dating. I wanted to say, "Just tell him you like him, you want him to break up with the girl and get off the damn phone already!"
When I finally escaped her, I got in line to check out, only to get behind yet another woman on her cell phone; this one had a screechy voice reminiscent of Estelle Costanza on Seinfeld. The people in line behind me appeared, and smelled, as though they hadn't bathed in a week or two. Not that I have anything against that, but it was just not what I needed at the moment. So I held my breath, and rocked back and forth, waiting. Trying to be patient. But nothing is every quick, or easy, at Joann's.
In a fit of hysteria, I made the devastatingly poor choice of going to Marden's after I left JoAnn's. As we settle in for our first winter storm here in the Northeast, I was getting prepared to lose power, just like we always do. No power means we need candles, and there's no cheaper place to get them than Marden's. Unfortunately, every woman with more than one child was in the store too, and, with every fiber in my body, I had to resist the urge to stick my foot in the aisle and trip one of the little screaming, running, heathens. Only to pick it back up by the shirt and say in my most sympathetic voice, "Oh, sweetie, did you fall? Oh, are you okay? You shouldn't run like that. I really dangerous."
Had it been my child, I would have pulled her aside and in my Mommy Dearest voice, whispered in her ear, "If you don't stop your screaming and your running, I will drag you out of this store and make a huge scene. I will embarrass you to the point that you will never want to leave the house again. Do you understand me?" On the rare occasion that we have an issue in public, this usually does the trick. I hurry through Marden's, and when I'm leaving, I encounter the woman who is the source of all my angst. Yes, there were not multiple women with multiple children involved, there was ONE woman with many multiples of children running around. And as I pass her in the vestibule, she has an unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth, a cell phone in her hand, an empty stroller in front of her, and she's screaming at the nation of children with her, and I quote, "Get you asses back in here. I'm not f**king ready yet!"
I ran back to the car, only to have two guys in a truck honk at me because I wasn't shoving my two small bags in the backseat fast enough - they wanted my parking space. Probably headed in to Marden's to try and score a deal on some camouflage huntin' geah or sumpthin. So, I backed my wagon out as fast as I could, and before I could put in first gear, their plow was looming way too close in my back window. Bastards.
The last straw was when I came home and got on the phone with my mother. My relationship with her is a funny one; sometimes we have lots to talk about, other times, not so much. Just like every family, we have a lot of dysfunction in our history. But we started talking about Christmas gifts and I asked her if she and her husband (that I am so fond of) would like a package from Omaha Steaks for Christmas this year. "Oh, why yes, that would be great!" Now, keep in mind, the someday spouse and I have told everyone, including her, that we are buying ourselves a new washer for the holiday, so "if you want to get us something, get us a gift card to Lowe's or something."
For the last 8 years, my mother has given me the same gift, a $50 Visa gift card; when I started dating the boy, she started giving him one too. So we thought we were in good shape, we could put both towards the new appliance. But no, not this year. The year that I actually need it, she decides to give him a gift card and buy me this. Now, I appreciate the thought behind buying me a digital picture frame where I can load up all my fabulous pictures and have them flash randomly around, so I can keep looking at them ALL. THE. TIME. Or, if I'm really lucky, maybe she'll load them with her pictures.
But I don't need it. What I need is a new washer that doesn't use 48 freaking gallons of water with every single load. What I need is that goddamn gift card that she gives me every year. What I don't need is a picture frame. I have plenty. They sell them by the dozen at Marden's for God's sake. So, while he's out buying fancy coffee with his Christmas gift, I'll be at home looking at flashing pictures of my mother, her yapping dog, and her drunk husband, passed out in the driveway.
Happy effing Holidays.
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