Mother’s Day is coming. It’s the one big day a year when mothers
everywhere can officially lie around in their pajamas until noon
drinking mimosas, while saying, in their best Royal English accent
things like,
”
Hey, can someone get me my slippers? And while you’re at it,
change the laundry, take the socks out of the cat’s water dish, and
bring me a mirror so I can adjust my tiara.
”
It also means that if you’re a mom you’re probably going to get
some kind of a gift, and usually something in the floral or
handmade variety.
Mother’s Day is coming. It’s the one big day a year when mothers everywhere can officially lie around in their pajamas until noon drinking mimosas, while saying, in their best Royal English accent things like, “Hey, can someone get me my slippers? And while you’re at it, change the laundry, take the socks out of the cat’s water dish, and bring me a mirror so I can adjust my tiara.” It also means that if you’re a mom you’re probably going to get some kind of a gift, and usually something in the floral or handmade variety.
And let me just say, it’s not that we don’t appreciate these things (of course we do), but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that sometimes the perfect Mother’s Day gift is something you can’t buy.
So, to save us all a lot of time and retail angst this Mother’s Day, I’ve included two self-explanatory lists that I call “Things That Most Moms Will Never Ever Want So Don’t Bother Giving” and “Things That Most Moms Want, But Probably Won’t Tell You.” Naturally, feel free to add your own items to either one, and then clip this out before heading out to the store.
Gifts that moms
don’t want:
Power tools.
Cleaning implements of any kind.
More laundry.
A new bathing suit.
Five extra pounds.
A salad with fat free dressing.
Mystery cheese.
Porcelain clowns.
Gifts that most
moms want:
Revenge on all mothers who clean windows, make homemade birthday cakes, and sew.
Time alone in the bathroom.
A waist.
To be allowed to hold your 10-year-old son’s hand in public.
A car with fingerprint resistant windows.
A toddler who insists on wearing color-coordinated outfits.
Fashion experts declaring that the new “in” look is “sleep deprived.”
To be smarter in math than a fifth grader.
A stockpile of ancient Smithsonian artifacts, just waiting in your closet, every time your kindergartner is required to bring something interesting to school on sharing day.
To look good in a little black dress.
To have somewhere to go in a little black dress.
A stroller that can be turned into a car seat, a highchair, a wind-up swing and a Thigh Master.
Your pre-teen daughter giving her dad, and not her mom, the old, “Oh My God. I Can’t Believe You Just Said/Did/Breathed Like That” eye roll.
Sassy red highlights.
Time.
A kid family portrait where the mom is tall and thin and smiling, instead of a black blob with five purple arms.
Calorie-free, dark chocolate.
A self-cleaning kitchen.
To be asked by a total stranger, “So, are you a student?”
Brad Pitt.
Kids who don’t fight.
A margarita.
More patience.
A pair of jeans that zip all the way up without the use of power tools.
A nap.
A meal in a restaurant without plastic forks.
And, finally: cute shoes.
