As I pondered upon a suitable Mother’s Day present for my dear mother last week, I found myself grappling with the fact that a macaroni necklace, once endearing, no longer carried the same profound impact it did 36 years ago. Each gift idea that crossed my mind seemed lackluster, prompting me to seek the opinions of my Facebook followers. I implored them to share the worst Mother’s Day gift they had ever received, in hopes of avoiding any potential blunders. Amidst the predictable responses of Dustbusters, brooms, step stools, tools, and irons, a recurrent theme caught my attention as I sifted through the multitude of answers.
It turned out to be nothing.
Nothing?
Initially, a wave of melancholy washed over me upon witnessing this sight. Admittedly, throughout various years, the Hubs and I had mutually decided to forgo exchanging presents during the holiday season, redirecting our resources towards our children’s needs or perhaps investing in practical appliances like a washer and dryer. Nonetheless, contemplation took hold of me in that moment. Even in times when financial constraints prevented us from purchasing a gift, the Hubs would encourage our children to craft a heartfelt card or compile a booklet of affectionate coupons redeemable for warm embraces and tender kisses. It may not have been extravagant, but it held a certain sentimental value.
This made me furious, then I felt outraged, and then I became enraged.
Nothing is not acceptable. Absolutely not, no, no, no, no!
Have you ever wondered why these moms ended up empty-handed? Why didn’t their children bother to give them a heartfelt card or even a hilariously awful gift like a scale? Well, let me enlighten you: it all boils down to their lack of learning.
I put the blame squarely on the shoulders of the fathers. Yes, fathers, don’t bother defending yourselves, because this is entirely your doing. Of course, there are plenty of grown-up individuals who, despite being complete assholes, fail to purchase gifts for their mothers, but guess what? That’s also on you. You were meant to instill in them the importance of honoring their mother on her special day each year. It was your responsibility to take them to the store, guiding them in selecting a card or a present for Mommy when they were little. Even if you didn’t have the funds, it was your duty to encourage them to create a heartfelt drawing, craft a bracelet out of pipe cleaners, or write a sincere letter to her. Anything would have sufficed, except for nothing.
It’s astonishing to see the multitude of women who shared that their spouses resorted to the incredibly feeble justification: “I refrained from purchasing a present for you due to the fact that you’re not my maternal figure.”
Oh. My. Gah. Someone hold my purse, because shit just got real.Output: Oh. My. Goodness. Someone please hold my purse, because things just got serious.
“Wait, hold up. You’re seriously telling me you’re not my mother? Well, that’s a load of utter nonsense, my dear sirs. Sure, you might not be our father, but have you ever considered who’s the one chauffeuring the kids to the store and generously funding their purchases of shiny new golf clubs for you every single year?”
“You’re not my mother.” Ugh.Output: “You are not my mom.” Ugh.
If my dear husband were to ever utter those words to me, I would respond with a resounding affirmation: “Ah, my love, you speak the truth. While I may not possess the qualities of your beloved mother, I am undeniably the nurturing mother of our precious children! It was I who carried them within me for the span of nine arduous months, enduring the trials of childbirth that left my very being altered. It is I who rises from slumber in the darkest hours of the night to tend to their ailments, while you feign sleep. I am the one who lovingly tends to their scraped knees and kisses away their pain, for the sight of blood sends you into a state of faintness. I am the one who tirelessly reads stories aloud to them, as you claim illiteracy. And it is I who engages in countless rounds of Uno, as you inadvertently bring them to tears with each Draw Four card played. You must remember, my dear, that these children are a reflection of our shared lineage, and it is your duty to instill within them the true essence of Mother’s Day. Now, I implore you, venture forth to the marketplace and procure for me a most wondrous Dustbuster, my darling husband, you wonderful scoundrel!”
What is the matter with you guys? I’m sure you all go out and purchase flowers and cards for your dear mothers. But seriously, who instructed you to do that? Ugh. Quit being idle and make an effort to give your wife precisely what she desires and deserves on Mother’s Day: a break from your presence.
