Angels at Marketplace

Mondays are typically days I can plan on running errands and staying off the computer and phone (my phone whoring day off). So this morning I rushed out to Marketplace to spend my $10 JCPenny coupon because if I didn't I would have felt like I just wiped my ass with $10. I also had a pair of pants to return to Ann Taylor Loft, where the sales clerk managed to completely piss me off and make me break into a cold sweat (or a hot sweat...I refused to take my wool coat and scarf off because I didn't want to carry them...so I was roasting). She refused to credit my mall gift certificate (which I fucking USED to buy the stupid cuffed jeans. Yes, cuffed jeans) and instead made me take a store credit. And I had a receipt! I stomped out of there like a child and proceeded on to Dicks where I lost my shit in line behind a woman returning a pair of baby poop colored Uggs. Really. How long DOES it take for you to find the credit card you used to purchase those attractive boots?

I hate shopping.

Anyway, I was making my way back to my end of the mall, the end where I parked my car in such a way as to make the quickest getaway possible (I know myself too well), and witnessed two random scenes that put a lump in my throat and made me want to go back and so I was sorry to the Ann Taylor lady. I was so moved that I grabbed my cell phone and called the home phone and left a message to remind myself to blog about it. I could barely get the words out without crying (I quickly deleted it when I got home so Steve didn't have to wonder if I'd finally lost my marbles).

The first was right when I walked out of Dick's and was just gaining speed with my long, purposeful, get-me-the-hell-out-of-here strides when I had to slow down for an older couple holding hands. They were two men, in their late 50's, I presume, and of different races. As I passed them, I glanced back and saw that one was profoundly mentally challenged. They were strolling through the mall, hand in hand, checking out the sights and watching other people. I suppose the "normal" guy was used to second glances. But he seemed oblivious to anyone and held the other mans hand so sweetly that it made me want to stop and hug them both. And buy them ice cream.

The second was only moments later. I was walking much slower by now...and hopefully didn't look quite so bitchy anymore. I wasn't exactly sure which way to go, so I stopped to look at one of those "You Are Here" maps (my quick getaway plan did not account for my poor sense of direction). Right behind the map was the North Pole and Santa was seated at his throne for pictures. Sitting on his knee was a woman who was 95 if she was a day. She had her picture taken, and, hunched over so low her head was near her cane, she was gingerly helped down by a woman in her 50's. The younger of the two quickly told Santa she'd be back, then turned her attention to the little old woman, and brightly told her "You looked beautiful". She slowly lead her back to the line, where three other old women stood waiting. They, too, were waiting to get their pictures taken with Santa.

Oh my God. I wanted to pick them up and put them all on Santa's lap, then take them for ice cream, too. I truly do hate the mall. I hate shopping. I hate the crowds. I hate sweating. But today I was reminded that you don't have to look too far to find the goodness in people. That there are people so willing to be at the service of others, who will endure the madness at the mall during Christmas to help someone far less fortunate enjoy the holidays.

Don't get me wrong. I like to think that I am kind and have a generous spirit. I frequently embarrass Steve by following older folks to their cars with their groceries. I've helped elderly or handicapped people into their cars and taken their carts back the coral. Helping other people does actually make me happy. I try to be a good person. And for some reason the grocery store doesn't bring out the worst in me quite like the mall.

And today I forgot that there are all kinds of people trying to get things done at the mall. People who challenges far exceed my need to get in and out. People who deserve my patience and respect. I was embarrassed with my short temper.

I will avoid the mall (and other places full of shopping crazed people), but if I find myself back in the same situation, I will remember those two angels at Marketplace today. And I will be patient and kind...and patient.

And you must, too.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that before I left I had to go back and eat crow at Ann Taylor. I had $37 of store credit, with no intentions of visiting the mall in the near future, so I wanted to be done with it. First of all, Ann Taylor's clothes are heinous, and secondly, they cost a small fortune. I scrounged up two t-shirty things and found out at the register that I still had $7 dollars to spend. Without thinking, I told the sales clerk that I'd quickly find something else to buy because "I will not be stepping foot back in this store".

I guess you can't go cold turkey on bitch.

A New Tradition

Last year my friend, Beth, and I arranged a craft night in lieu of exchanging gifts. She contributed these giant wooden Christmas trees that she'd scarfed up from the Michael's 90% off Christmas sale the year before, which the six kids painted and decorated. My contributions were six Haunted Gingerbread Houses that I snagged after Halloween at Aldi's ($2 each! How could I not?). I just bought a couple of pounds of Christmas candy and we were in business! It was a great evening and made Beth and I feel so much better about not spoiling the kids.

Trouble is (or was) that Maggie, Libby and Jack assumed that we had started a new Christmas tradition. A tradition of rushing to Aldi's after Halloween to grab the clearance gingerbread kits. A tradition of spending a small fortune on candy and a powdered sugar/super glue concoction. A tradition of 14 (no lie!) tubes of hot glue to hold the structure together and about 30 minutes of table and floor clean up time once we were done.

But it was so worth it! We had such a fun night. They were a joy to watch.They each focused on their own house and asked for help only when they needed it. And they tolerated my interventions when I couldn't keep my mouth shut or my hands to myself. They were EVER so proud to pose with their masterpieces when the last candy cane was slathered in place.So, yes. I guess we do have a new family tradition. Some day it will be fun to look back on the progression of their imagination, patience and willingness to NOT eat the candy!
God help me if Aldi's stops selling Haunted Houses!

PS. It was 15 degrees today. Libby dressed herself.

Blech

I'm cranky.

Being sick sucks. I got myself a raging case of strep throat on Monday, followed quickly by a wicked cold. Spent most of Tuesday in bed, felt slightly better yesterday, but got another kick in the pants today with relentless sneezing and nose dripping. I'm a hot mess.

But...I'm also a trooper and I ventured out this morning to get my hair highlighted. My hair dresser is pleasant and easy to talk to, and she tolerated my sneezing and snot fountain without comment. And since I'm not particularly picky, and hair is just hair, I don't ever tell her when I'm not 100% happy. Last time she over highlighted my hair...I looked like a beach blond, and over time my roots looked horrendous. This time it's not light enough. But...I like it, it will grow in nicely over the winter and it improved my mood significantly.

Worked for the rest of day the with moderate success, and called it quits at 4pm. Sweet Mother, where the fuck I am going with all this? I can't quite complete a thought. Mmmm, let's see. We rushed through a hastily prepared dinner so as to get the girls to Brownies on time. Tore out the door, pulled right up to the door at school, raced up the to...an empty cafeteria. Fucking Brownies. Wrong week.

So I blew my diet and stopped to buy some Cherry Panda Paws Ice Cream. Ah. So nice.

And that's it. No, no it isn't. Steve can't find his wallet. Hasn't seen it since Tuesday. You can see why this might be a problem. His accounts haven't been touched, so we're not freaking yet, but will cancel his cards tomorrow if we don't hear back from the church gym where Jack had practice on Tuesday.

Tomorrow is another day.

It speaks to Maggie

So I was putting laundry away (if you've read from the beginning, you know that putting laundry away sucks the very life out of me) and Libby's was first. I put her things away, leaving a pair of pajamas on her bed for her to put on. On my way to Maggie's room, where I planned to repeat the process, I yelled down the stairs to Libby to come up and get changed.

This is the conversation that followed.

Me: "Libby, come up to your room and put your pajamas on."

Libby: "What about Maggie? Why doesn't she have to put her pajamas on yet?"

Me: "Uh. Ok. Maggie come upstairs and put your pajamas on."

Maggie: "WHAT?"

Maggie: "What do you need, Mommy?"

Me: "I need you to come upstairs and put your pajamas on."

Maggie: "JACK! MOMMY WANTS YOU TO PUT YOUR PAJAMAS ON!"

And that, my friends, is Maggie in a nutshell.