You would think between five kiddies, I would be inundated with Mother’s Day cards and gifts. Not so!
Mind you, when they were youngsters, Hubby corralled them for shopping trips that culminated with a magnificent bread-maker or a gift that men and boys presumed made life easier for the “little woman” (or them).
But, those years are gone and the norm these days is one child will send a card weeks ahead, because they fear if they don’t the minute it pops into their mind, it won’t happen at all. Two will be on time and congratulate themselves that they remembered. One will phone or email that evening and one will totally forget and “maybe” apologize weeks later. But, since they inherited the forgetful gene from their mother, I shouldn’t complain (reread the previous column).
Son Number Three, upon discovering when he left home that he was responsible for remembering Mother’s Day himself, told me, “It’s a made up holiday like Valentines Day or Thanksgiving. It’s not a real one like Christmas or Easter.” When he married, his tune changed and I have a hunch his spouse was behind that.
…and speaking of spouses, last year one sweet daughter-in-law (DIL) surprised me with a pedicure and manicure gift. The footsy hot-tub was lovely – the pulsating chair not-so-much. It felt as though some hateful person was punching my back with their fist and I freaked out. I whispered to DIL, “How do you turn this off?” She sighed, reached for the “off” button and put her unsophisticated mother-in-law out of misery. The manager and staff barely stifled their giggling.
I presumed polishing my fingernails would be a snap. After my non-English-speaking-manicurist repeatedly pointed where to place my hands for each step, I realized I was out of my element. The tittering employees followed us to the door as we sauntered out. I believe DIL generously tipped them and silently pledged never to bring me to her salon again.
This last Mother’s Day when a florist knocked on my door I barely contained my delight. Which of my thoughtful children had attained “Favorite Child” status?
Beaming, I graciously accepted the bouquet. The driver grinned. “Your neighbor doesn’t appear to be home. I wonder if you could see she gets these?”
I briefly toyed with posy theft. But, hey, this was a five-out-of-five Mother’s Day and I’m still glowing.
Thank you!