~ Christmas Hamsters and the Tote-er ~

Kids...They keep us accountable..all my best lessons ( I RE-learned from someone under four feet tall ) and nine years of age....gotta love 'em.

Christmas Hamsters and Toddler Mucus

 

 

Soft blobs of snow covered the asphalt in a surreal fashion as quickly as it appeared.  Traffic crawled, so slow, cars seemed almost ballet like as they slid back and forth.

 Hunching forward I tensely gripped the steering wheel of my once trusty Peugeot, in part mesmerized by the snow globe effect, in part shivering from no heat.  A sniffle and croupy cough from the backseat, followed by the blare of the car horn behind me, brought me back to the scene.

After a bit of brake pumping, wheel turning, teeth clenching and prayer of course, I managed to enter the parking space at a seventy-degree angle.  Okay, so it was more like two parking spaces!

 

 Scooping my croupy lil’ over clad toddler, I plodded through the whiteness to buy what I could and get home before dark.

Outside snow covered wreaths lay behind rows of tiny shrubs laden with cheesy plastic ornaments across from a long line of poinsettias that had seen better days.

Inside loomed end -cap displays, full of toys, candy, Christmas plush and dolls. Perfume and cosmetic gift sets, garnished with metallic streamers and over-sized red felt bows, sparkled in splendor, despite the gritty slush in every aisle.

 

There are lean times, and then there is the “crunch,” a time in life where the financial pressures of daily life far outweigh the strength of the shoulders that must bear them. 1992 was such a time.

It may have very well been 1993, but I know it was Tuesday, three days until payday and four before Christmas.  I am a giver by nature, in an average sort of way. “A dollar here”…. “pocket change there”. My daughter always being the “ tote-er “ of the offering, referred to loose change as “munniez” and bills as “BIG-bucks “took absolute delight in generously giving my money.

 

 

Milk…. bread…peanut butter..jelly….one small box of the cheap-O’s cereal ….and most important of all….a bottle of cough-syrup for the tote-er. She sat stuffed into the shopping cart little legs dangling overwhelmed by her pink snowsuit with its hood hiding most of her wild fuzz.  She wiped her runny nose with her sleeve and leaned her head waaaay back looking up and batting at the glittery silver stars that hung from the ceiling.  She shifted to the side and squeezed a trio of plush hamsters that leapt into a dance and high-pitched rendition of “jingle bell rock”…I giggled and squeezed the button on several others until the obnoxious hamster – ensemble brought the glare of our fellow customers in line as well as the cashier and stock clerk nearby.

 

I sorted the coupons I had, and I felt my face flush as the last hamster froze mid-song and the cashier said

 

“ with your coupons you just saved three dollars…that will be , thirteen ninety –eight please”.

 

 Having exactly three dollars and fourteen cents in my checking, and not a single WIC voucher left, me to put back the jelly, milk and Cheap-O’s cereal.  And placed the ten-dollar bill, “my last”, in the cashiers palm. Her smirk took on the same skewed angle as her Santa hat as she rolled her eyes, sucked her teeth, and voided the milk, jelly, and cereal. I fought back tears and the urge to jack-slap that look off her face!

 

Mumbling something not so nice about Christmas, with my eyes to the ground, I pulled my croupy youngster out of the cart and hustled her towards the door.  The sound of her little legs clad in nylon, rhythmically whooshed trying to keep up almost drowned out….THAT  DREADED BELL SOUND.

 There she was…. between the door and me, with her bell and red bucket. Looking needy as she possibly could, stood THE… Salvation Army bell ringer. Thought I had made it past the gumball machines …until the tote-er screamed...”Mommy, WAIT we have to give the lady some munniez ! “. 

I stopped in my tracks, never looking up at the lady, with her worn shoes.

 

“Sweetie, Mommy doesn’t…. have, any money “, I whispered under my breath.

 

“ But mommy the lady just said, …. “you saved three dollars”!

 

I watched the pink furry pom-poms of  the tote-ers hat swing  pendulum –like , for what seemed an eternity , as I struggled for a response. Much to the mixed disgust and amusement of nearby shoppers within earshot, I spent a good-three minutes explaining the concept of coupons to my three year old.  Resorting to the “ how we can save money with coupons…yet not really …have…it” spiel,

 the tote-er and I deliberated the matter to the point where, it sounded stupid even to me.  I came up with the sure-fire way out!

 

“ Sweetie, I have no cash.”

 

“ Why can’t you write the lady a check?”, she brilliantly replied.

 

I surrendered, not to the snickers of my co-shoppers or the bell… but to the fascinating genius of my runny-nosed three-year-old and her big brown eyes. So …you guessed it, I wrote that lady a check for three dollars.

The sniffling tote-er cheerfully licked the mucus from her upper lip and dropped the check in the red bucket.  Somehow, I felt so much richer on the ride home.

 

 

 

 

Blesssssssss 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© 2007 J.Hampton [email protected]

Reviews

[Carole]

Jen, I can't believe I have never read this before. It was to my chagrin! I am so glad I hopped on over to search for a special piece to review. I just happened to click on this one and I will tell you, I am RICHER having read this piece. Those hard times were really RICH times. WOW! This gave me a prized peak into what it was like for you and your precious family in 1992 and special insight into your heart. This was superbly written lady! A real prize. Thank you!

Hugs, Carole

[Brooklyn Darkchild]

And I feel richer for having read this.
You've crafted a wonderful, feel-good Christmas story out of an obviously uncomfortable situation.
It's a scenario I've lived out way-too-many-times in my life, and they haven't stopped yet.
Try explaining to the cashier that the reason you're paying in change is because you're the neighborhood candy lady, and that's how the kids pay YOU.
"Why don't you roll the coins?" they always ask, oh-so-superior.
BeCAUSE: these twenty seven dollars worth of coins don't add up to ONE coin-roll's worth.
THAT'S why.
But I digress.
What I wish to say is, I felt your pain, and you conveyed it admirably, which is what good writing does. Check my notes, coming soon, for editorial corrections.
Dc

[Kelley Pascoe]

That was very sweet Jen. I bet you miss those days when they were so young? I do. I injoyed reading this and it reminded me that just because you think your broke sometimes. It may not always be true.
Great write!!! Thanks for sharing.
Kelley
oxox

[Glenn]

Brings those memories of old christmases to mind, back when I didn't understand the concept of money(and I still don't). But also capturing what it is like to be poor on the holidays. Somehow feeling guilty you can't give the guy with the bell any money and the feeling of dirt you get when you make it to the register and have to put back half your list or overdraw your bank account. It is especially hard being broke this time of year, and takes an emotional toll on you more than any other time. I suppose because the holidays are about giving and you just don't have anything. Not to mention it is the lay off season and impossible to get a job till the new year. Hard times and innocent ones. Really good write as always.