OK, so I know I said there would be more on my adventures with The Grandma in the wilds of New England over Turkey Day, but this entry isn't one of them. This entry's sole purpose is to ponder the motivations of The Grandma at Christmas time.
Every year The Grandma gets some weird notion in her head that she must get the three grandchildren (and now this includes the fabulous fiance as well)some sort of themed gift. One year it was harmonicas. For several years in a row she got us all flashlights. This year, I'm not sure if there is one single themed gift she is bestowing on the grandchildren. Truth is, she hasn't had much of an opportunity to shop. My mother has been insanely busy popping out babies left and right. She saw 31 patients the other day while her co-worker, the other midwife in the practice, delivered THREE babies. (Question to the people of Rockford, have you ever heard of birth control, or maybe reading a book?)
Anyway, this has left me as the official driver, errand-runner, and Toter of The Grandma To All Various and Sundry Places All Over the City Regardless of How Insane the Traffic Is. I don't mind. Mostly. It seems this year, however, she has gotten it into her head that she MUST find and purchase a wall clock for a certain couple's new(ish) apartment. Oh, Sweet Jeebus help me. We looked at Target. We looked at Gordmans. I questioned the sanity of this expedition. And then, we looked at Kohl's. They had all of six wall clocks to choose from, but The Grandma was insistent on selecting one. For a moment, she had her eye on a wooden one with a brassy metal pendulum. It'd be perfect . . . for The Grandma's bathroom. And then, she had her eye on a simple silver one that reminded me of a hubcap with a clock face in it. It'd be perfect . . . for Monster Garage.
In the meantime, I'm making noncommittal noises as she asks me "What about this one?" Hmmm . . . yeah, that's a nice clock. And, I'm entertaining myself looking at the kitchen clocks all shaped like kitchen appliances and gadgets--a coffee pot, for example. I picked up the one that looks like a toaster with a little piece of toast popping out the top and laugh.
"You like that one?"
Oh great, now I've made it look like I think this is the clock to buy. Hmmmmmm . . . yeah, that's a nice clock.
"You think they'll like that one?"
Hmmmm . . . . I think it's cute and kinda funny. And a tiny bit tacky. And kitsch. I shrug and don't make eye contact. Not that tacky kitsch isn't OK, but I'm not sure it's at all what the couple would want. Besides, I don't think they have any wall space in their tiny one-booty kitchen.
Oh, well.
Twenty minutes later (because it took that long to make our way to the registers and check out), we're picking our way out of the parking lot, the new toaster-themed clock in the back of my car. Great, and on Christmas morning, I get to say I helped pick it out. Joy. The news will be made that much more teeth grindingly fun when they all realize I got to pick out my own present from The Grandma, since I took her shopping. I wrapped it myself and put it under the tree. I got to wrap the clock too. Wrapping is part of the Driving Miss Grandma job.
Never fear. The Grandma's kept all her receipts. Now if she can only find them. She's put them in a "safe" place.
