I can be - at times - a particularly well prepared mother. Yesterday was one of those days, or so I thought. I usually prefer the Fly-By-The-Seat-Of-Your-Pants school of mothering. However, a visit to Santa with three small kids and DH requires planning. strategy even. Lesson learned - my strategic skills need honing.
I knew Santa started accepting visitors at 10AM. I planned to be there at 10 AM. I knew I would not be at the front of the line but thought a 20 minute or so wait was do-able. Did not account for the fact that Samantha had ruined her last pair of black tights at school earlier this week and that everyone related to me by blood or marriage in the state of Texas would HAVE to go to the bathroom - in a most urgent fashion - as soon as our van was parked at the mall.
So we enter the mall and we part. DH and kids to the Family Bathroom - which for the record, I think are the best invention at malls since rent-a-stroller. I stop in the girls' department and grab a pair of tights. On the way up in the elevator, I turn to the young couple with ONE child, sitting quietly in his stroller. I smile. They smile back. I ask if this is their first child. They beam and reply, "YES!" I tell them with all the sincerity I can muster, "STOP!"
They laugh. I am serious.
So off to the bathroom where chaos rules. Everyone 'goes', washes, tucks, fusses and Sam gets her new tights on. Then back through the store - in search of Santa. And we find him. Along with a gabillion other kids decked out in their holiday finest already in line to see him. I look at my watch. It is 10:20AM.
The line started at the gate beside Santa's HUGE green satin recliner, then snaked it's way around the over-stimulating mall holiday display, through the zig zag queue, OUT of the queue, past the 15 minute massage chairs (which I seriously considered), down the length of the mall...
We found our place at the END. and waited. for one hour and thirty five minutes we waited. and waited. I must confess - I didn't wait so much as I shopped. DH and two of our offspring waited in line while the third went with me to check some names off our holiday list. Teacher Gifts. Check! Socks for brother's stocking. Check! Victoria's Secret for me. Check! - Okay, so that wasn't on the list but I felt like I earned a little splurge...
So then I return to the line, DH has made friends with the Mom's all around. They know my shoe size, how old I am and when I lost my first tooth. Now it was his time to go shop. So he does - with two kids in tow. I stay the course with brother in arms. And all he wants to do is get "DOWN!" and run the length of the entire mall 50 or so times. I wore a Christmas shirt for the day - thinking it would help me get and stay in the holiday spirit. And it did. What I did not count on was that the scoop neck style would allow my son the opportunity to pull and expose. . . . ummmm, well, ME! and he did. several times. I got bored fighting him over it so if you read about the half naked woman in line to see Santa, at least you know how all the Dad's at the mall got into the spirit too.
We wait some more.
It gets closer to our time to see Santa. at this point hair bows are cock-eyed. Shirts untucked. tights are sagging. So as time is short, we regroup and complete last minute preparations for the Big Moment. My last piece of advice - I make the girls look me dead in the eye and I tell them that if Santa asks if they have been good this year, they had better be prepared to tell the truth. That lying to Santa Claus would result in absolutely no toys for Christmas. They nod reluctantly in unison. Snickers from the mothers behind us in line...
the gate opens. Santa says ( I swear) "Samantha, Savannah, ya'll come over here and see me." Momentarily, I am stunned. As are they. Then when they rush into his arms and lap, I remember that the Santa's helper had asked me for their name when I placed my photo order. There is a kid in me - that's for certain.
When the girls are situated and DH has the camera ready - I place brother on the empty Santa knee. At this moment, I become - officially - The Worst Mother in Texas. with an audience. I can feel all eyes in the mall are going from my son to me. Him to Me. Him to Me. He screams. cries, flails, wails.
And I stand there, smile sweetly and tell the Santa's Helper - through clenched teeth - "TAKE THE PICTURE! I have not waited for 1 hour and thirty five minutes to NOT get all three of my precious darlings in a picture with Santa Claus!" As if on cue, the girls will not cooperate and look in the same direction at the same time so at least 4 different shots are taken. Poor brother. Momma has given him to this huge, hairy strange man. and tells him to smile.
So we get the picture, I rescue brother from the big hairy guy, pass him to DH - they move about three miles away from Santa and then it's Magic Time for the girls. Sam and Savvy tell Santa what they'd like for Christmas. I love this Santa. He is beautiful, no doubt, but he is so kind. And years ago, when Sam's speech was even worse than it is now, and she was so unsure of this big fella, she struggled mightily to be brave and sit on his knee. When it was over - and she was walking out, she looked back over her shoulder. I knew what she wanted. So I said to her, would you like to give Santa a hug? She nodded. He nodded, opened his arms. She ran into them and he enveloped her. I love this Santa. And it is no less magical this year as he listens to each sister tell what they want - both talking at the same time - mouths moving, eyes sparkling. then they tell him what the other wants. and what brother wants. The Have You Been Good Question did not come up. Both girls are visibly relieved.
And I overhear him telling them very solemnly that he can't make any promises, but he will do his very best to bring them the things they want. I love this guy! (did I say that already???) I find myself fighting the urge to sit on his knee, whisper in his ear and beg a hug.
So was it worth one hour and thirty five minutes? You Bet! But next year we are going to be there at 9:30 AM! 9:15 if we don't have to make a bathroom stop...
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