This is Not a Test: Take Shelter Immediately

8 05 2009

So I kind of have a sense when it’s going to be a disappointing Mother’s Day. Don’t get me wrong–I’m not so materialistic as to snicker about horrible gifts out loud in the presence of the Mother’s Day gift givers in this household, to deliver a message with all the subtlety of a stubbed toe.

I scoffed at this article about the “worst” Mother’s Day gifts ever. I mean, be thankful ladies! Don’t feed this crazy idea that men have that we are all unappreciative little gold diggers. Give me a session with a personal trainer or a Snuggie any day (sage green, small please).

Yet I got the sense that even the Snuggie would be out of reach this year.

Red flag No. 1: I told Daddy Yankee on Tuesday that I’d just ordered mom’s Mother’s Day gift.

“Oh,” he said. “When is Mother’s Day, anyway?”

Wow. Did he really just say that?

“Sunday,” I said.


He tried to patch it up later with an e-mail, which he  probably drafted while he was half-paying attention to me on the phone. The e-mail said,  “I know a really good mother!”

This was going to be worse than I thought.

I told him later that day not to worry about it, that I’d just like to get my hair done at the salon with one of those deep conditioning anti-humidity treatments, and that would be plenty for me.

Tonight during dinner he wanted to be absolutely sure, in the presence of witnesses the kids, that this was, in fact, all I wanted. “So, you’re just going to get your hair done?” he asked. He was tentative,  ridiculously cautious,  like a cat walking into a room with a dog off its leash. “We don’t need to get you a gift certificate or anything? You just…go?”

He looked as if at any moment he was anticipating a kick to the groin.

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s it.”

I could tell by the look on his face that he still wasn’t totally sure about this, like I was setting him up for some kind of  evil husband trap. I almost feel sorry for the man. But I’m enjoying this way too much to be overcome with pity.




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