The Mall And Getting old - My Mother's Tale

This was over this past weekend. My mother tells her story of the time she had with my kids:

Today I had a good taste of what Christmas was all about. My grandkids were unusually cranky, Nina was carrying this baby doll around for 4 days as part of a health science class assignment. At first I said "not to the mall." Nina replied, "I have to because I can't find a babysitter at this late time and mom doesn't want to babysit again." Joanna has been incredibly supportive, but Brad says Nina is suffering from postpartum depression because she has been crying a lot lately. Of course this is the funniest thing I ever heard, which makes Nina cry even more (those damn hormones)

Anyway, Desmond was very irritable and tired today. We got to the mall, he ate ravenously, then proceeded to fall asleep on a seat outside of Bloomies. Nina is prancing around outside of Jessica McClintock to show me the different "formal" dresses she likes. Of course, there is no prom, no weddings, no parties, which is usually why we buy such an evening dress, but hey, why should I burst her bubble. Now Desi wakes up and says, I saw something in Brookstone that I'd like to get. After all, Nina is getting a princess dress, why shouldn't I have a remote motorcycle. Off we go, and Nina is in the mall prancing around looking for her grandmother to show the blue taffeta pick. I just keep moving and don't look back.

Now I call my daughter, who is home trying to spend an hour or two with her husband. After all, she worked all day (today is Sunday) trying to drum up business at a holiday parade that passed in front of her store. "Jo, could you come rescue me. The kids are due for a melt down and I can't do another one with them." Sure she says.

Jo & Brad show up 1/2 hour later, pull the kids together like they always do, effortlessly, confidently, without the screaming & threats which their grandmother sometimes resorts to. What a beautiful sight. I believe it's called competence.

Anyway, we all kiss good bye and I proceed to leave the mall and spend the next 2 hours searching for my car in a security van. How embarrassing. It's hard growing older. I do believe what I want for Hanukkah or Christmas is one of those pink plastic flowers you put on the aerial of your car (aerial. Nobody has an aerial anymore. I'd better stop while I'm ahead). Is this humiliating?

I got into my car at 9:00 p.m., pulled out my pump of creme fresh, smeared it all over my hands, lips, arms and under my nose. I knew it would bring me out of my temporary depression about getting old, senile and everything else. As usual, it did the trick. I'm not my mother after all. She never smelled this good. Good night.