Wax On, Wax Off
We sure know how to screw things up. In an effort to beat the crowd and split time between family and in-law families, mother's day brunch was scheduled for Saturday at a restaurant near my mom's house. Being a lazy slug like I am, I decided last minute, I didn't want to leave my house at 8 a.m. just for food that I would have to drive two hours to get.
I called my mom and told her I wasn't coming. I said I would meet her and the rest of the family back at her house later. Before she could say anything, I said, "Or we can come see you tomorrow instead."
"Yeah, why don't you do that. I don't think anyone else is coming back here after we eat. Plus, you know how tired we'll all be with full bellies. I'll probably come right home and take a nap."
Saturday was shaping up better and better for me. I spent days looking for the perfect gift for my mother, which I never found. Not having to go Saturday meant, I still had time to shop. The Lane gang spent the whole day shopping and still didn't find anything special for her. In fact, Mr. Lane let me know I was hard to shop for too.
"You didn't get me anything yet?" I asked in a scolding tone.
"Well, no, but, you were supposed to see your mom today and you're still shopping too."
I had no comeback. He was right, but I didn't tell him. He suggested we get some candles for her, and although she loves candles, I think it's a cheesy gift, especially after seeing the candle aisle filled with last minute guy shoppers. Reluctantly, I smelled every single one. My nose hairs were tingling and both Lane 2 and I went off on sneezing fits as we exited the aisle empty handed.
We browsed through so many stores and still came up empty. Defeated, we came home. Mr. Lane and the kids made dinner.
Sunday morning I called my mom to wish her a happy mother's day and find out what time she wanted us to come over. "Well the girls came back to my house yesterday and lingered like bad cheese. But they want to see you too, so they are coming over again, but I don't know what time." I pulled 12:30, 1 out of my ass and said I'd see them later.
We stopped at a garden center on our way there. I picked out some stupid flowers for her patio. I convinced myself it was better than bringing some stupid candles.
So much for sharing our time with the in-laws. Everyone landed at Mom's Sunday.
Mr. Lane motioned toward the candles that Mom had lit everywhere and whispered, "See, I told you." I gave him the stifle it look and walked away.
Mom couldn't wait to show me what she bought for herself on QVC. (See why she is hard to shop for? She sees something she wants, hits speed dial and it's all hers.) After climbing and digging through her treasure closet, she came out with a box. Inside the box was a $33 candle.
"Smell it Lo. It's yummy." I saw my husband's grin out of the corner of my eye.
I gave a fake sniff and said, "Mmm... yummy. Thirty three bucks huh? Did you get kissed?"
"No I didn't smart ass. Oh, and look, it comes with a little hat."
"Ooooh, a hat? For 33 friggin' dollars it should provide orgasm. Dicks with wicks, hey, I could make some money with that idea."
Mary, my freak pervert sister said, "They already invented that Lo."
I didn't have the stomach to ask how she knew.
Mom had two $33 candles. One was mulberry, the other pineapple. Mary wanted the mulberry one and Angie wanted the pineapple one. Normally, when we visit each other's houses, we take whatever we want. Anita has left my house with a floor vase. I've left Mom's with pictures I took right off of her walls. Mom has left my house with my entire birdhouse collection. I in turn took her clock collection. The list goes on and on. Basically, if Angie and Mary wanted those candles, by the law of the land, they should have been able to take them. Instead, Mom was putting up one hell of a fight. She really loved those damn things.
She just took them out of their boxes, passed them around so everyone could smell them, and then she put them back in the boxes and into the closet. I tried to catch Mom off guard and steal them but she kept turning around as if she knew I was up to no good.
When she caught me in her closet with one candle box in hand, she yelled, "What are you doing?"
Wide-eyed, I said, "Playing Robinhood," I offered an innocent grin. "I'm stealing from the bitch to give to the whores."
To take the heat off of my attempted thievery, I asked, "Why are the good candles in the closet in a box? Why are you burning these shitty dollar store ones? Aren't we good enough to smell your $33 candles?"
Although I was unable to convince her to give the girls the candles they wanted, and I was unable to steal them, she finally caved and lit one. It didn't smell any better than her dollar store ones.
I bet if I would have bought her a bunch of stupid candles instead of stupid flowers, Mary and Angie might have walked away with door prizes. This will be the first and last time I admit, I should have listened to my husband.