Why No Mother’s Day Gift Will Ever Quite Do.
I got my mother a really cool duster for Mother’s Day when I was ten.
I was so excited to have come across this awesome duster. It was promoted on a shopping channel that had been playing in our kitchen. After watching a lady wearing lots of make-up, demonstrate just how cool this duster really was, I rushed to place an order.
Finally, the puzzle that is “The Perfect Mother’s Day Gift”, had been solved. Looking back, I can now understand why my mother wasn't too thrilled upon unwrapping her precious gift.
When it’s all said and done, how can one possibly find a befitting gift for the person that gave you life itself? Here are some general guidelines to ease the way:
No items that relate even remotely to housework.
As I’ve voiced time and again in my own home: I like the house to be clean. That does NOT necessarily mean I enjoy cleaning it.
Fancy vacuums, a brand-new washing machine and most kitchen utensils are part of the general family budget. Placing them in the “Here’s your one chance to make mom feel special” allocation, will guarantee a mom that walks around the house repeating “Why doesn’t anybody clean up after themselves?!” at increased rates.
I love you all to the moon and back. As much as I know tending to your shoes and socks that have been scattered throughout the house as if we never assigned you a bedroom, with a closet and a neat little laundry basket from The Land of Nod, is “holy” work, it’s hard to live this realistically at all times.
If you so much as place ONE dish, in the RIGHT sink, WITHOUT breaking it, I will forever be indebted.
No glitter, ever.
I get it, teachers. It’s cheap. It’s pretty. It gets the kids all excited for hours.
But my gosh does it make a mess.
Not like an easy mess that you can pull out the broom and dustpan and feel like everything is back in order as soon as the crushed biscuits have been swept away. A really mean mess. A mess that reminds you it’s here to stay. A mess that says: “Why bother?”
A mess that taunts: “You know that new couch? The one you spent MONTHS choosing, and ordering samples for? The one you played around with via those free online design programs, positioning it in different corners of the living room to see what it would like? The couch you collected coupon after coupon for, and waited till Labor Day for sales where they mark the prices up, then send enticing emails titled “25% off storewide!!!”
Well I am now going to destroy that couch.
I will stick within its crevices till you forgo saying things like “No eating on the new couch!” and give in to the fate that is, family owned furniture.
Breakfast in bed needs to be given more thought.
Pretty much any attempt to “eat well” made on my behalf, is almost always derailed by some forsaken milestone.
Why does EVERYTHING we do have to revolve around food?
I just cut out carbs and now you bring me pancakes in bed? You’re all gathered around, staring at me starry eyed, excited about the efforts of your labor coming to fruition.
“How could I possibly turn this down?” I think to myself as I bite into another bygone resolution. There’s always tomorrow I decide. But there is NO tomorrow. There’s birthday cakes that need to be baked, leftover pasta that needs to be finished and pizza dinners when you just can’t be bothered.
I give up. Someone hand me the chocolate.
You see kids, there really is no gift that could ever do justice to all that I have done for you.
I gave up my sleep for you. My nutrition. My career. THE SHAPE OF MY BODY. The ability to express myself through swear words. The luxury of driving in the car and just thinking about life, in peace, without someone yelling “GO ALREADY!” every time we hit a red light. The dream of going to sleep and knowing you will wake up naturally when you are no longer tired. The comfort of going on a trip without having to pack as if you’re moving to a different planet. The ease of coming home after a long day and relaxing on the couch without all life form gravitating towards you.
As annoying as all that is, the real reason you won’t be able to find me the right gift, is because the greatest gift I ever received is you. All these nuances are a blessing and ones I truly don’t take for granted.
My favorite part of the day is picking you up from school and getting an in-depth account of all the wrongs that have been committed against you in the 5 hours since I let you out into the big bad world. I try to hold back a smile, as I sympathetically listen to how Sarah stole your chair, and the other team cheated in soccer.
But, you know what I want more than anything now?
For anyone that hasn’t had the opportunity to whine about crayon on the wall, never ending piles of laundry and the need for some down time to be given the chance to do so. And for that we can really only pray and be sensitive. Don’t sweat it kids. Mother’s Day really doesn’t need to be the extravagant affair hallmark intended.
Every day is a gift with you, and on this day, I dream that others will receive it too.
Now, where’s my spa voucher?