Mother’s Day without the crap

In my search for the perfect Mother’s Day cards for my mothers-in-law this week – (and that isn’t a typo – I have THREE mothers-in-law.  Do the math on that one!) – I came upon the worst of the worst of cards.  Treacly, forced rhyme crap cards that had me near to vomiting in the aisles of Zellers.  I mean, c’mon if you’re going to force a rhyme at least make it interesting.

For my husband’s MOM
Whose loins he sprang FROM
(sorry about the preposition placement there)
You make my heart SING
As you cut his apron STRINGS
So glad I don’t hate YOU
And that I can truly ESCHEW
The cliched  Mother-in_Law COMPLAINTS
Cause bad you AIN’T!

When I did read a card that was okay on the sentiment and not bad to look at, it was $7.99!!!  This card did not sing or pop up into an elaborate 3-D perennial garden, or have ribbons or buttons upon its face – it just had words and pictures.  I nearly choked on my muffled sentence that began with “Back in my day…”

This year Mother’s Day and my husband’s birthday fell on the same day.  When Rissa is a titch older she will do everything for us next time these dates coincide.  In the added chaos of celebrating both joyous events, some things were left out… on the Mother’s Day side and, for that matter, David’s birthday.  I read my wonderful home-made card and gave my daughter big hugs and kisses for her crafty handiwork.  There was a beautiful bouquet of flowers on the table for me as well.  I got up to go to the bathroom and when I came back there were rolled bead earrings surreptitiously added to my card that had been forgotten.  We sat enjoying our usual Sunday pancake breakfast basking in the carb rush and lazy Sunday joy. 

Rissa then began a game of charades that involved a lot of head jiggling and eye-rolling with elaborate hand gestures towards my husband before I twigged that perhaps that David might be desirous of acknowledgement for his own special day – his 39th birthday.  He was partial to the box of chocolates.  (A good thing about his birthday and Mother’s Day falling on the same date – chocolate is cheap and for a chocoholic like my husband this saves us a great deal of money as all the Valentine’s chocolate that was put away after Feb 14th is pulled out again and put on sale for the moms.)

As Rissa collapsed into a spring-cold induced catnap, it struck me that the spa day which I had ever-so-subtly demanded from my family had not appeared.  As passive-aggression set in and internal war began… do I mention something, do I not mention something, because I really, really, really was looking forward to being buffed and polished and having my pores reduced, but I don’t want to come off as being whiny and not grateful for the beautiful bouquet of flowers and hand-rolled bead earrings.  As casually as I could, I said, “So, it’s okay this week if I just treat myself to something, right?” 

Whereupon David’s eyes got really big and he said “CRAP!!!  Don’t go anywhere!  Stay there!” 

Then he rushed upstairs and I heard him thumping around, presumably opening drawers and doors until he located his Holy Grail of Husbandom before he careened back down the stairs breathless with a lovely little envelope in hand.

“Here…  It was… (pant, pant) in the… (pant, pant) drawer.  I hid it.”  Opening it I saw these wonderful words:

This card certifies that Heather is entitled to a
30 minute massage, organic facial and perfect pedicure.  

I love my family.