The Love Actually Mishap

Christmas has been a little different at our house since my mother moved to Colorado a few years ago.  Our special little five-some has had to change slightly to accommodate our brash, narcissistic, slightly crazy, octogenarian party girl. We still manage to celebrate with our sweet traditions, we just have to make room for Mommie Dearest in some of those now.

Having my mother around on Christmas isn't that big of a deal anymore. It took some getting used to but we've learned to just go with it. She likes to make everything about herself but we've managed to navigate around that pretty well. We listen to her stories of flirting with elderly boys and charming people into buying her booze with mild amusement. She's perpetually sixteen and stories highlighting the paradox of her actual age and her perceived age are entertaining. The first few times. But after a while her conversational loops get a little tedious and by the tenth or twelfth time she's telling the same story I notice my children's eyes glazing over or anxiously darting to locate an exit.

I watched it all unfold on Christmas Day, just a few weeks ago. Grandma's repeated topics were getting a bit stale so Steve asked if she'd like to watch a Christmas movie. Although I was fairly firm in my convictions that TV should not be a babysitter when my children were young, I admit I have no qualms at all about using TV as a babysitter for my mother.  Steve checked the channels and saw that Love Actually was playing. Having watched the movie a few years ago he thought it would be a good way to keep Mommie Dearest occupied. A cute Christmas movie about love. What better way to stifle my mother's constant chatter? It was a good idea in theory, only Steve had forgotten a few key elements to the plot line.

I went upstairs, probably to escape my mother, but after she'd been watching the movie for a while she started to holler, "Susan!"  "Susanne!" I couldn't imagine what she needed but I assumed it was a refill on her glass of wine so I didn't rush. Steve, who can only be described as a saint for the way he treats my mother, ran to find out the source of her excitement.

It was sex.

Steve had forgotten Love Actually includes a story about two 'body doubles' who simulate sex during the filming of a movie and casually chat about life while doing so. My mother hadn't been able to follow the numerous loosely woven story lines of Love Actually and didn't understand what was happening. All she saw was two people she thought were engaging in sex and started calling for me. Whether she wanted me to come and watch with her, change the channel, or grab a pen and paper so she could take notes was unclear.

In all honesty, without the context, the scene could be considered a little graphic.  Well, even with context the scene is a little graphic so I understand Mommie Dearest's excitement. She said she was alarmed because she thought she was watching 'a porno,' but I'm not convinced.

Because that's all she talked about for the rest of the day. Over and over and over she exclaimed, "THEY WERE SCREWING!"

I was in the kitchen cooking dinner and she came shuffling in to announce, "I was watching a movie and THEY WERE SCREWING!"

We were enjoying a lovely Christmas dinner and then right in the middle of it, "THEY WERE SCREWING!"

Having dessert. "THEY WERE SCREWING!"

Driving her back to her retirement home, "THEY WERE SCREWING!"

Sometimes just out of the blue, "THEY WERE SCREWING!"

No delicate euphemisms or cute code words for my mother. Every time she exclaimed about it I tried to refocus the conversation. She'd have none of it. She insisted that we all hear the story. Over and over and over. "THEY WERE SCREWING!"

I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that not all that many families spent the holidays with an 86-year old wild child who witnessed a momentary on-screen fake sex act depicting a momentary on-screen fake sex act and spent the rest of the day not only fixated on it but regularly blurting out the details. It's just a hunch.

So yeah, Christmas has been a little different since my mother moved to Colorado a few years ago. 

Just a little.

The Accomplishments That Weren't

The calendar has just rolled over to a new year.

(Source: Google Images)

I mention this in case you've been taking a very long nap. It's a new year and as I take stock of the one that just passed I feel pretty good about it. Overall, I accomplished quite a bit. Except for all the things I said I was going to accomplish.

Of those I accomplished nothing.

On my birthday, just before the kickoff of 2014, I read an article about a woman who on her 31st birthday was lamenting several aspects of her life. She had just stepped outside, into a puddle, and was whining to herself when she looked up and saw a Baskin-Robbins ice cream shop. Somehow the ice cream parlor provided her with an epiphany about her own life and how it needed variety, much like the variety of available ice-cream flavors. I'm pretty sure she explained it more eloquently than this but anyhow, even though Baskin-Robbins had dropped the 31 flavors from their name some time ago, she must have been old enough to remember it, and all the whining, puddle-stepping, birthday reflecting, and ice cream flavors fit together into an idea about how to change her life. She decided to ask her friends and family for suggestions of 31 new things she could do in the coming year to broaden her life experience and perspective. I admired her sense of adventure.

I liked the idea so much I decided to write a blog post asking for similar input. Except I wasn't turning 31. I was turning 55. I also wasn't lamenting my life nor had I stepped into a puddle but I guess I just got so caught up in the idea of doing new things that I didn't think the idea through very carefully. I planned to compose a list of 55 of my favorite suggestions. Had I taken the time to consider this I would have realized that doing 55 new things would mean accomplishing more than one per week. This was highly unlikely.

As it was I didn't get 55 ideas. I got 11. And two alternates which I wasn't sure I could commit to. Even so, undertaking 11 new challenges seemed a respectable list and I appreciated the input of those who had chosen to participate.

And that's as far as it went.  Not only did I not accomplish 55 new things, I didn't even accomplish 11.

I didn't even accomplish one.

There are a myriad reasons why I didn't complete my list of eleven new adventures. Probably the most important is that I didn't create a plan for how to accomplish them. The idea was a little hair-brained from the beginning. Without a plan it was pretty much doomed.

I could chastise myself for never even starting. I could call myself a failure or feel bad that I didn't follow through. I could try to hide the fact that I made a public plea for input and then never did a thing with the ideas people provided.

I could. But I won't.

Because whether the idea was a good one or not really doesn't matter. And whether I completed some, all, or none of my list really doesn't matter. I am not defined by what I accomplish. No one is defined by what they accomplished. Not really. There are a lot of people out there accomplishing a lot of great things, but in the end we aren't defined by what we accomplish.

We are defined by how we treat others.

We are defined by our offerings of joy and hope.

We are defined by our demonstrations of charity.

We are defined by the way we are good citizens of the world.

I'll hold on to my list. There are some really good ideas on it and some day I might be lamenting my life and step into a puddle and decide to accomplish them all. Or maybe I'll never accomplish any. It doesn't matter because I'm not defined by my accomplishments.

I am defined by love.