Tired Mom Diary – Chapter 13 – The Last Piece
Christmas is six days away.
My spreadsheet has fourteen unfinished tasks.
The elf is missing.
And my mother has asked three times whether we’re having turkey.
We are not having turkey.
We had turkey at Thanksgiving.
I have explained this.
She’ll ask again.
Ben’s family came over Saturday afternoon for an early Christmas.
His sister was spending Christmas with her in-laws, so we were doing presents now.
I made a cheese board.
Ben said he’d handle everything else.
I rearranged the crackers.
He watched me.
“Are the crackers in trouble?”
“They looked uneven.”
“They’re crackers.”
“They have standards.”
He took the knife out of my hand.
“Go sit down.”
I sat.
Then I got up to straighten a napkin.
I’m a difficult woman to love.
Fortunately, Ben has an experience.
At three, his mother opened her presents.
A scarf from Nora.
A framed photo from Ben’s sister.
And a beautiful leather handbag.
From Ben.
She gasped.
“Oh, Benjamin!”
I smiled.
Of course she loved it.
I’d bought it on Black Friday.
Forty percent off.
Perfect colour.
Perfect size.
Perfect daughter-in-law.
Then Ben handed her another box.
“One more, Mom.”
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
His mother opened it.
Inside was a small gold necklace with three tiny stones.
One for each of her grandchildren.
She went quiet.
Then she cried.
Actual tears.
She put it on immediately.
Didn’t take it off for the rest of the afternoon.
The handbag sat on the couch.
Still in its tissue paper.
I stared at it.
Forty percent off.
Apparently, that wasn’t enough.
In the kitchen, I cornered Ben.
“You bought your mother a necklace?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s Christmas?”
“I bought her a handbag.”
He blinked.
“You what?”
“From you.”
He looked toward the living room.
“That was from you?”
“Technically, from you.”
He started laughing.
I didn’t.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you said you’d handle your family.”
“I did handle my family.”
“I know.”
He stopped laughing.
“Oh.”
There it was.
That horrible little word.
Oh.
The sound of a man realizing his wife had created a problem entirely by herself.
He kissed my forehead.
“She’ll use the bag.”
“She likes the necklace better.”
“Well, yeah. It’s got the grandkids on it.”
I stared at him.
He looked genuinely sorry.
Which was worse.
CHRISTMAS PERFORMANCE REVIEW
Gifts purchased: Too many.
Gifts purchased for people who weren’t my responsibility: One.
Times Ben needed my help: Zero.
Times I helped anyway: One.
Times it improved anything: Zero.
Money saved: Forty percent.
Dignity saved: Unavailable.
Later, Ben handed me a small box.
“Open it.”
Inside was a keychain.
Not expensive.
Not fancy.
A little silver keychain shaped like a coffee cup.
On the back, engraved:
THREE MINUTES.
I looked at him.
“What’s this?”
“Remember Thanksgiving? You said sometimes you sit in the driveway before coming in.”
I remembered.
I’d said it while drying dishes.
I didn’t even remember him listening.
“I thought you could use a reminder,” he said.
“Of what?”
“That you can take three minutes whenever you want.”
I stared at the keychain.
He looked uncomfortable.
“It’s stupid, isn’t it?”
“No.”
I closed my hand around it.
“No. It’s not.”
He kissed me.
Then Nora screamed because Kevin the elf had been found inside the Christmas tree.
Apparently, Kevin had been there since Thursday.
Nobody had noticed.
Including Kevin.
By seven, everyone was gone.
The house looked like Christmas had been attacked by raccoons.
Wrapping paper everywhere.
A plate of cookies under the couch.
Someone had spilled juice on a chair.
Nora was wearing a paper crown and one sock.
I didn’t ask.
Ben was collecting plates.
I opened my Christmas spreadsheet.
Fourteen things left.
Christmas Eve groceries.
Teacher cards.
Stocking stuffers.
Laundry.
The list went on.
I looked at it.
Then closed the laptop.
Not because I’d finished.
Because I hadn’t.
Nora came into the living room.
“Mom?”
I looked up.
“Where’s my -“
“Ask your dad.”
She stopped.
Looked at me.
Then toward the kitchen.
“DAD!”
“YEAH?”
“WHERE’S MY -“
I didn’t hear the rest.
I was still on the couch.
Ben answered something.
Nora laughed.
A cupboard opened.
Life continued.
I looked at the wrapping paper on the floor.
The Christmas tree.
The fourteen things waiting.
Then at the little coffee-cup keychain in my hand.
Three minutes.
I could probably take five.
I stayed where I was.