For Mother’s Day last year and the year before that and the year before that and the year before that Jack and the girls have outdone themselves with the gifts. Four years running I have received concert tickets – Phil Collins, American Idol, Elton John, and Weird Al. Four years running I have received a night out with my husband doing one of my most favorite things ever. This year? A shed. Romance, she ees alive.
The shed was practical and necessary to the organization of our freakishly tiny two car garage (seriously, it’s like the Anti-Tardis), but… wow. I am so not about the yard work. Still, because I am a martyr mother, when Jack said we should probably get one but he was worried about the cost (plastic crap is expensive y’all!) I very practically suggested we make it our Mother/Father’s Day gifts to each other.
By ours I obviously meant his. You got that, right? Because Jack (silly, silly Jack) didn’t and wound up making a gift run mid-Sunday. I didn’t force him to do it. I just kindly and repeatedly pointed out that I’ve given birth to three very large babies and as a result once sharted in the doctor’s office, have nil in the way of bladder control, and haven’t had a full night’s sleep in 11 years. “Are those clean clothes you’re wearing?” I asked. “Hmm. I wonder how that happened. Ouch, my aching vagina.”
I kid. I kid. I never say the word ‘vagina’ in front of him.
Nah, Jack and the girls gave me exactly what I asked for for Mother’s Day. I wanted to go out to lunch then spend the rest of the day playing The Sims 2 undisturbed. Which is mostly what happened. After lunch he dropped me off at Target, gave me his credit card and told me to buy myself the latest Sims release. Romance, she ees napping on my couch. I almost bought myself my own To My Wife on Mother’s Day card to make a point be funny, but I showed remarkable self-restraint and didn’t.
Otherwise, it was a fine day filled with me doing what I wanted while Amy hung over my shoulder asking repeatedly if she could play The Sims now, and “Are you finished yet?” Amelia gave me a beautiful self-published book of poems one of which entitled “My Mom” made me a little teary, then she spent the afternoon asking if she could go somewhere or have someone over because Mother’s Day was boring. Olivia alternated between making messes that were invisible to her father and wanting to crawl back in the womb because hellloooo, Mother’s Day! is exactly different from every other Sunday NOT AT ALL!