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.

Tiny Tim Goes Shopping

There is nothing my mother enjoys more than shopping.

Well, okay. That's not entirely true. We all know she likes collecting men  But just after collecting men, she likes shopping.  And if she can collect men who will take her shopping...all the better.

Of course she likes her wine too...I'm not sure of the exact order of things, but shopping ranks right up there as something my mother enjoys most in life. Wine. Men. And shopping.

She particularly likes to go shopping at Christmastime. My mother firmly adheres into the notion that Christmas is about the buying and giving of stuff. Every December she calls me and whines that she doesn't get to go shopping and wants to buy presents. And I, who dislikes shopping and holiday crowds, tell her how cold it is and how frenzied the stores are, and negotiate the purchase of gift cards on her behalf, which can be opened on Christmas morning so that she feels she's given a gift and I've avoided having to take her shopping in December. It was a system that was working just fine until Steve entered into the mix. He's such a little Christmas elf.

Every year Steve suggests we take Mommie Dearest shopping, just for the pure joy of getting out in the hustle and bustle with her. Every year I say no. The words pure, joy, and shopping with my mother cannot be formed into a single sentence. This year when he started saying we should take her shopping I responded only slightly less adamantly than I would have if he said we should vacation in North Korea.

NO.

So he tried an different tactic by appealing to Anna's sense of compassion and, less jaded than I, she agreed. They went yesterday, Bob Chachit and Fred, and loaded little Tiny Tim and her walker into the car and took her out into the Christmas decorations, lights, and music. It even snowed all storybook and perfectlike.

Scrooge stayed home and worked.

(Source: Google Images)

They didn't take her out for long or to very many places. She doesn't have the stamina for much. They took her to a Charming Charlie store loaded with costume jewelry, purses, and scarves where she got so excited she developed a  headache, heart palpitations, and lightheadedness.  She had to sit down for a while. Three times. Fortunately she didn't have a stroke. That would have put a damper on the whole storybook outting. Nevertheless, she was thrilled and her Christmas was made. He joy was complete.

All it took was a kind-hearted man and his daughter to put in the effort to take an elderly woman out to do what she loves best. Or second best. Maybe third. Regardless, they lived out the meaning of Christmas. And giving. And sacrifice. They personified what this Christmas business is all about. I can see that now and I've considered what they did.

I'm prepared. Next year when Mommie Dearest calls me complaining that she can't go Christmas shopping I'm pretty sure I know what my answer will be.

Bah Humbug.

I'm gonna need a few more ghostly visits for that one.