We just got back from a birthday dinner for my mom but it took some work to make it this far in the day.
The only true item on our jam-packed Summer Fun Adventure Itinerary for today was the acquisition of a birthday gift for mom/grandma. When I asked Madison what I thought she might like for a gift, Madison said “How about a nice new top?” She is Lynnette’s clone. Anyway, that’s where were started out in terms of a plan. Since we had just been to Pearlridge the day before and I had no intention of driving into town with roadwork on H1, I picked the only other option available to us: Waikele. “Can we look at the jewelry?” Madison asked as we entered Banana Republic. “Let’s look for a top first, then we can find something to match, okay?” I replied. “Yeah, yeah!” she said. We looked around and Madison suggested a bright orange top. “Well,” I said, “Grandma likes neutral colors.” “What’s that?” Mad asked. “White and black and gray and brown,” I said. “How about this, then?” she asked, pointing to something in bright green.
We found ourselves at the Coach store and we ran into my aunt Waynette on the way in. She and Madison made camp on the chairs in the rear of the store. Apparently, Madison was filling my aunt’s ear with the details of our vacation. I can’t be sure, though, because every time I approached the two of them, Madison shooed me away, saying “Just go look for grandma, dad.”
Lynnette wasn’t with us, but man, I wish she had been. I had an idea about what to get my mom, but there was a bevy of options. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I can get to the point of narrowing these decisions down to a top-5 or final-3, but I usually leave the final decision up to Lynnette, since she’s a woman and all, and I’ve only got invisible woman parts. Deeply philosophical yet utterly pointless question: Does that make me a fake woman or a fake man? If the answer is “neither” or “both,” what does that make me. This is rhetorical, by the way. My self-esteem couldn’t handle answers.
Anyway, I must have sent Lynnette about 7 pictures like the ones in this screen shot. It was pretty pathetic. I kept walking to the back of the room to drop bags off, only to be shunned by my own daughter. Then I would have a three-way conversation with myself, the sales associate, and Lynnette (via phone). Fun was had by none.
Madison and I spent the rest of the day living off a steady diet of Disney Junior and Mets baseball, respectively. By 3 in the afternoon, Madison succumbed to boredom and asked me to play Mario with her. It took me about one minute to figure out that she wanted to play Mario by herself, but used a plural pronoun in order to get me to turn on the Wii. Clever girl. Since she’s too young to really play Mario, I swapped it out for Toy Story Mania, a video game version of some of the games featured at the actual theme park. Sigh.
I think that Madison thought the game action would be slightly easier than it was. She played the ring game a few times before handing the control over to me and complaining of a “tired arm.” I don’t think she likes the idea of actually having to aim the remote in order to hit things. In her mind, I think the perfect game would be for lights to flash or shit to blow up every single time she presses a button. She really likes cause-and-effect. Precision and accuracy? Not so much. The lesson? Everything feels a little duller after visiting the Happiest Place on Earth™.
We had dinner at Outback and I am sufficiently stuffed at the moment. I have no doubt that I will go to bed with a less-than-stellar opinion of myself which will have devolved into full-on hatred upon awaking in the morning.
The members of my family are nothing if not predictable, and many predictable events occurred over the course of dinner. My father ordered the prime rib. I ordered the prime rib French dip sandwich. Matty ate a lot. Paul showed discipline. Madison struggled with the meat portion before lapping up her clam chowder (hold the clams, celery, and anything else not chowder or potato). Lynnette got a margarita. In order to break such impressive monotony, I asked for a birthday sundae and a birthday serenade for my mother who loathes such ostentatiousness and frivolity. She didn’t loathe the sundae, though. Neither did my dad. Or Matty.
As a side note – just to tie up narrative loose ends – my mom did like the clutch Lynnette selected for her, even if it is different from what she usually rocks (the crossbody mini-purse). So I’ll say it again, Happy Birthday Mom/Grandma!
As a final gift, here is a photo of my girls post-birthday dinner. Enjoy.