Christmas Shopping With Mom

Christmas shopping is always an adventure, but when it's with my mama, the adventure morphs into some odd slapstick sitcom.

First Stop: Target for more wrapping paper, ribbon, and tape.

Me: "Mom, are you sure you need more wrapping paper?" I had to double check. Mom has a tendency to overdo.

Mom: "Oh, yes. I had a few very minor mishaps with some packages."

Me, perplexed: "Mishaps?"

Mom: "Oh, you know, the paper would start to rip, I'd get ticked, call it an a-hole, rip the paper off, and have to start over. And, of course, I was annoyed at having to start over, so when I'd pull a new piece off the roll, it would get all funky and I'd need another new piece, so...definitely yes to paper. Ah, here we go! I'll get the paper, you grab some tape and ribbon."

Me, laughing at the mental image of her wildly ripping unruly paper from the packages while calling each piece an a-hole: "So I'm thinking a triple pack of tape, then?"

Mom: "You are thinking right. Be back."

After grabbing the tape and some pretty ribbon, I turned to see my mom shuffling towards me under the weight of what could very possibly be the largest two rolls of wrapping paper I have ever seen.

Mom: "Look! Jumbo rolls! Plenty for me to royally mess up!"

Me, running for her: "Mom, you really shouldn't be carrying those! Here, give them to me."

Mom: "Nonsense, honey, I'm perfectly capable. Just need to get them in the basket. Where is that basket? Oh, there it is!"

While I was still mid-run to help her (she really shouldn't be carrying heavy things), she swiftly turned to put them in the basket and...

WHACK! The two rolls smacked me in the side of the head. Insert hysterical laughter by a mom and her daughter while everyone around us thought we were crazy.

Second Stop: Craft Store for yarn and other miscellaneous items for Mom.

Mom: "Ooh! I forgot a basket. Quick! Go back through the doors before they close!"

Me: "My luck they'll close ON me. I'll just go around the proper way."

Mom, very cheerleader-like: "You can make it! Go! Go!"

Me, already walking around to the other side: "Not gonna try it. Do we need reminding of what happened the last time I tried this very same thing?" We won't go there.

Mom: "Good point."

Me: "Oh! Here's one right here!"

Mom: "Great! Grab that one! I'll be in wreaths."

Of course, the basket had to be caught on a bunch of tray-like things that I didn't see when I attempted to move the thing. CRASH. All the trays went sliding down in front of the basket and across the walkway. I just rolled me eyes, made a face, grumbled a bit, laughed a little, and started stacking the trays back in place. Thank goodness they weren't glass or something. One girl was sympathetically grinning with her mom over by the cash register.

Me, heading for wreaths: "Um...Mom...whatchya got there?"

Mom, holding a GIANT wreath: "Isn't it gorgeous! I've always wanted one that looks just like this! Will it fit in the basket?"

Me, smiling: "Not easily, but we'll find a way." Dad has always said that Mama has a tendency to find and buy the things bigger than Texas hair.

Mom: "I don't want it to smoosh!" Suddenly, a large silver ornament fell off. "OH! MY BALL!"

Oh Lord. People peered around the corner, started snickering from nearby aisles, etc.After fixing the ball, my mom decided she needed yarn and I needed some art pens, so we split up. BAD IDEA.

I lost her. One missing mom in aisle five!

She wasn't in yarn or in any of her usual craft store haunts. Just before a slight case of panic set in, I heard, "HONEY! LOOK! I FOUND A PAN TO COOK BUTT CAKES!"

Yes. Butt cakes. She meant bundt cakes. She had a mouth fart and totally misspoke. More hysterics ensued as I tried, through belly-laughs, to maneuver the crowded aisles to reach her. 

Me, laughing: "Exactly where is your mind today? Balls and butts?!"

Mom: "Obviously that's one I don't need to answer.  I didn't even know my mind was there! And the whole store knows now. Let's get outta here before my face turns any redder."

Third Stop: God Help Me. Baby Clothing Store.

Mom: "I just have to pick up a little sweater or something along those lines. We'll get in and out in less than a minute, okay?"

Me: "I'm fine, take your time." I lied. Things I'll do for my mom. She loves baby clothes. Sigh.

Store lady approaching. Oh Lord. 

Store lady: "Can I help you with anything?"

Mom: "I'm just looking for a little green or red sweater to match an outfit from the ______ line."

Yeah, sorry, I don't remember the specific line or theme of clothing Mom mentioned.

Store lady: "Of course. Darling line, isn't it? Right over here. So, is this for your granddaughter?"

Here we go!

Mom: "No, no. I'm not a gran yet."

Me, in an effort to preempt the questions: "I do hope to make my mama a rockin' granny one day." 

Store lady: "Oh, well, not too soon I hope! You're far too young!"

OH HOLY MOTHER OF RUDOLPH.

Mom: "I think her age might surprise you." No, Mom, no, no, no, no, no!  "She's 32." Oh, bloody hell, Mom!

Store lady: "Really?! Wouldn't have thought that! Wow, well, you know, women are having babies later and later in life these days. It's nothing to worry about. And who knows, it's Christmas...maybe your boyfriend will pop the question."

Why does everyone assume I have a boyfriend?  Is it the age? If you're 30+ you MUST AT LEAST have a boyfriend? Ugh.

Me: "I don't have a boyfriend, actually."

Store lady: "Oh, well, I'm sure you'll meet him soon."

Her words said hope, but her tone screamed, oh you poor thing.

Mom to the rescue, in her southern drawl: "To tell you the truth, I might want to be a hip granny, but I want my daughter to be happy even more. I don't want her to settle for something because she thinks she should, or it's what everyone else is doing, or she thinks it would make me happy. It's a changed world out there. She's always marched to the beat of her own drum, and I wouldn't have it any other way. He'll come along when he's meant to...and he better deserve this one because he'll be getting a treasure."

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I LOVE my mama.

Store lady, smiling warmly: "Your mom is right. Wait for the right guy. I didn't the first go around and it didn't work out."

I survived the baby clothing store: The store lady was left with a smile, Mama left with a sweater, and I left with my pride (and uterus) still intact.