Usually I am more prepared. Usually I have a stash of gifts at the ready for just these occasions. Usually I am popping the bubbly and enjoying some lovely made-for-TV holiday specials. (Did you catch “The Santa Incident” on the Hallmark Channel? Or “The Gruffalo” on ABCFamily? Pure festive gold.)
But I am not. I am woefully, miserably, severely lacking some last-minute gifts. We have parties to attend — and gifts must be brought to these parties. I need three hostess gifts and two stocking stuffers (for a teenage girl and a four-year-old). My dilemma: I have 37 minutes to buy these gifts somewhere in my two-block trek from the subway to my apartment door. Stores I have to choose from: TD Bank, Starbucks, Duane Reade, and No-Name Corner Bodega. Added conundrum: I cannot get gift cards (long story for another post). —
I stand at the corner and survey the scene. I convince myself I can do this. I have given birth. I have created Plah-doh dinosaurs that would rival those of Rodin. Heck, I know how to say porcupine in Finnish (it is piikkisika – BIK-ee-sick-ah).
I. Can. Do. This.
TD Bank: Obviously, a big strike out. Though I love their commercials with Regis and Kelly, they don’t have much in the way of shopping. I do, however, empty my bag of random change and get a whopping $6 from their Penny Arcade to use on my mission. Not bad.
Starbucks: A bag of coffee? Too generic. A mug? Too logo-y. Then I spot the CDs by the register. Perfecto. I nab the last Charlie Brown Deluxe edition CD/DVD combo for one of the hostess gifts. It’s my favorite Christmas album and holiday special of all time. Side note: a Doppio is chugged for an energy boost.
Duane Reade: I enter the fluorescent wonderland with only 23 minutes left. Ahead of me is the nail polish aisle. Score! I toss three cool (or at least what I think are cool) shades into my basket. If I tie them together with some ribbon for the teenager, she shouldn’t balk too much at my lame attempt at hip-ness. Confession: I got a little sidetracked by the under-eye serum shelf (puffiness is the bane of my existence these days), but I remind myself to focus.
A trip down the escalator to search for something for the four-year-old. I spy a Barbie toothbrush, but getting a toothbrush is about as fun as getting socks or Post-It Notes. Seriously, no matter how badly you need them, they still have the excitement level of negative 92.
The card/stationery/wrapping paper area is ahead, and I gather some basic gold ribbon and a few gift bags, just in case, and there they are. Hanging on the wall in front of me. Gleaming in plastic wrap. Stickers! Princess stickers, kitty cat stickers, funny animal stickers. I throw some into my basket. Okay, only two hostess gifts to go. I wander the aisles without so much of a break in my stride. I see nothing that will work.
Deflated, I head upstairs and wait in line. Doubt sets in. I fear I won’t accomplish my mission. Surrounding me are magazines. Lucky. US Weekly. InStyle. I grab a Real Simple. One of the 83 offer cards they shove in the pages escapes and floats to the ground. Special rate of $12 for 12 issues. If, at that moment, I was a cartoon character, I’d have the lightbulb-in-the-balloon thing hovering over my head. A magazine subscription! I’ll put a cute note on this issue explaining in six to eight weeks, a gift that keeps on giving throughout the year will start being delivered. I pay and scoot out the door with eight minutes left.
No-Name Corner Bodega: With that last genius gift purchase, my confidence is restored. I know I can find my remaining gift here. I bypass the beef jerky. I scan the other treats. I ponder going the kitschy – and quite literal – route with a box of hostess cupcakes.
Then, some lady comes in and asks Mr. No-Name Corner Bodega for a Mega Millions quick pick. Aha! What’s a better gift than a chance at winning millions of dollars? I head to the counter and ask for three Quick Picks and a couple of fun scratch-off sheets.
“That’s $11,” Mr. No-Name Corner Bodega says, “Cash only for lottery tickets.”
I open my wallet.
NOOOOOO!
My shoulders slump. A sigh is, well, sighed. All I have is a $5 bill.
Bugger!
Bollocks!
Three minutes left.
Then I remember. I dig into my pocket. The $6 I got from TD Bank! I hand Mr. No-Name Corner Bodega my cash, wish him a happy holiday, and head out of the door.
I did it. Yessireebob, I did it…with one minute to spare.
I am not the fabulous Joy of Shopping (check out her great gift picks here) and I don’t recommend this type of shopping on a habitual or even semiannual basis, but that, my dear readers, is how to do last-minute shopping the motherhood list way.
Now, where’s my champagne?
