Mother's Day is yet another holiday that stresses me out. Every few weeks, there's another "gift giving" event on the calendar, and I get overwhelmed by the idea of Valentine presents and Easter baskets and cards and special days that leave me not knowing how much money I'm supposed to spend in order to make sure my friends and family know I love them. I infinitely prefer to make presents out of experiences, rather than items that may or may not be useful or wanted. If I can take someone to dinner, or a concert, or on a trip, I feel like I've given something far more wonderful. I have such a hard time selecting a thing as a gift. I lack some kind of gene, I suppose. Most women are excellent gift givers. I never know whether someone needs another sweater, or a gift card, or a huge electronic item. I don't get proportionality. I don't know the etiquette of cards. So rather than get it all wrong, I overcorrect and fail to give at all. I don't think I am not generous, as a rule. But if someone can teach me how to quantify and qualify my regard for my loved ones with consumer goods, I'd probably benefit from it in the long run.
Without checking in advance, I was considering my upcoming trip to Oklahoma as my "event" gift. My stepfather's art will be featured at the state capitol soon, and my presence during the show reception makes it possible to demonstrate in person how I feel about them for mother's day, father's day, and both of their birthdays. Luckily, my mother hears from me often enough that hopefully she knows for me, every day is mother's day. I never forget all she did for me, and I have lost count how many times in my youth I offered to share her as a mom to my friends. I knew she was the best around, and when my teenage friends were fighting with their parents, and it seemed like they really needed an understanding parental figure, I always said I had a great mom who would be happy to absorb them into the family. I tried to be that kind of mom for my own kids, and I think to some extent I succeeded. I have a few honorary children, now adults, still keeping in touch with me, and I like it that way. If my body and my budget had agreed with me, I would have had a half dozen kids of my own. But life didn't work out that way for me.
While the other mothers were out getting brunch and getting mani-pedis with their daughters, I was being a little more physical today instead. I sharpened the mower blades and found that the grass cut so much better than with them dull and dinged up. As long as the clouds covered the sun, I was moving quickly, but the sun chased me inside before I could complete the entire back side of the Park. I think I was a single pass of the mower away from giving myself heatstroke as a present. A little later, Mother Nature decided to give me a nice gift, and she watered all the plants for me, so that I didn't have to go back out after I overheated. It was so sweet of her. I got a care package from the far-traveled man Friday, and I opened it to find something I desperately wanted, once I learned that such things existed. He sent me a disco cat. It's a little, life-sized statue of a cat, entirely covered with mosaic mirrors just like a disco ball. It's sitting across from me now, watching me. I think it is the greatest thing imaginable. But I've been told it gets even better when I hit it with a laser pointer. I need to go rifle through some desk drawers to find one.
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