Honk if you Love Christmas Shopping

Now that all but one wreath is made that I've promised, I went out today and did the bulk of the Christmas shopping for my three older kids. Joel's was already done. Paul gave me a budget (which is always less than I want to spend but still quite reasonable) and I stuck to it. I made my list and stuck to it. I resolved not to be like everybody else on the highway and in line, and I stuck to it. Almost.

Let me explain. It was all in the perspective I chose this year.

In traffic I did not get impatient, even though at most intersections it took three "rotations" of the light before I got through. I just pretended we were all part of a big club and this is what we do. We form single file parallel lines and stay close together. We have multiple destinations but a single purpose.

When people honked at each other, I chose to think how cool it would be if we could all honk a Christmas carol during our wait times. My van horn is kind of medium-pitched, like a "G' above middle C. Most truck horns are deep,like a bass note; little sports cars hit the higher notes. I'd love to see a used car dealership do this someday--hire a crew to play a holiday tune on their lot, using car horns. I'd pay money to hear "Silent Night" like that one day. Of course, it would be a misnomer.

When I was wandering around perplexed about where "they" keep such-and-such in this particular store (I'm being vague since sometimes my kids read this blog), I was just thankful I had these kids to buy for. I was thankful for a decent budget, and for kids who really don't ask for much.

The only time I had ill feelings was when I was in this same store and was ushered to Register 6 with just three things in hand, but these two women jumped line (actually "staggered" into it with blinders on is more like it--I don't think they realized there WAS a line, or else there were pretending to be oblivious). Between them they had a stack of clothes a good foot and a half high. When the young, clean-shaven cashier was almost finished taking the last shirt off the hanger, one of the women asks him, "Do you have such and such kind of socks?" He says yes and tells her where they are. What a nice guy. (Do you see my tongue lodged solidly in my cheek?) Lady says "Ill be back in a sec. " Well, I don't know what planet she comes from, but on this one, a sec is not time enough to ring up a pack of gum, let alone get out of a line (that one has jumped/staggered into to start with) and go hunt for socks.

She comes back and the package says "7 Socks, 7 Days." Whoa! No kidding. Boy, nowadays companies, not fourth-grade teachers, teach ratios to consumers who can't figure that out on their own. But then again, maybe her kids get 3 days out of 7 pairs of socks. Or maybe they go thru 7 in 3 days."

My mind was not, in case you couldn't deduce, set on things above.

The lady asked if the shirts ever went on sale and the guy says, "Never." What? Buy something not on sale? Are you kidding? But she did. " That'll be $503.44, please." he says to her. I'm thinking 500 bucks is a bit excessive to spend on something that doesn't do the dishes or take out the trash or take pictures of someone taking out the trash.

When she was gone, I was next. The guy says, "How are you today?" Wrong question.

I should just say "fine." My daughter works retail and says she hears all kinds of negative stuff when she just asks, "How are you?"

But I add something like, "I'd be better if those ladies had stood in line. I was called over here and they just slid in ahead of me."

"Oh, really?"

No, I'm making it up just to be nasty, of COURSE REALLY! (That's what I was thinking, but what I said was, "Maybe they didn't realize there was a line.")

Poor kid. He's just a cashier, not a cop. Sometimes I think if I wasn't a mom I would be a cop. Come to think of it, every mom I know is a cop. I've got so much practice maybe I should think about changing careers and actually get paid to be a cop. I'm all about the rules. Not keeping them, just enforcing them. You know, like a good Pharisee. People could call me POP--Pharisee on Patrol. Course, answering to 'Pop" would be mighty, um... weird.

"That'll be eighty-seven dollars and thirty-five cents, please." Pop's mind jolted back into Mom mode. I'm thinking 87 bucks is a bit excessive to spend on something that doesn't do the dishes or take out the trash or take pictures of someone taking out the trash.

But besides my sinful response at that one store, I was a happy Christmas shopper. I was thrilled that cashiers are saying "Merry Christmas" this year. And I am happy that songs which mention Christ the newborn King still dominate the airwaves in malls and on honker-bonker highways.

How about you? How's your perspective today?