I really loved my last post.
Like, I loved it so much I read it multiple times after I posted it. And laughed hysterically at parts only I and a select few really understand.
That's not something I do regularly.
In fact, it's something I do so rarely I could probably count the number of entries I've loved that much on one hand.
My husband, though, admitted to me he didn't really "get" it and only skimmed.
I promise, I did not threaten to stab him, but only because I'm just glad he adds to my pageview count on a somewhat regular basis. There was a time when I was practically begging him to read these entries. My self esteem needed him to read them and validate my efforts and offerings to the writing community. His response was that this was my thing and he didn't want to overstep. *shifty eyes* But that's the whole point of the blog, I said, to give people a look into the extreme fucked-upness of my brain at times and the wickedly sentimental at others. It's not overstepping if I'm putting it out there on the Interwebs and making it searchable by my name.
Seriously, google me. My work history pretty much pops up in your face along with the profile linked to this blog.
So now my husband reads this stuff and I'm all like, "What did you think?" and I get responses like "Um..."
This is why he isn't allowed to read the novel. At least not right now.
Anyway, that's not really the point.
You see Mother's Day is on Sunday and I keep seeing things about what to do or give or express for the Hallmark holiday. Want to know what I'm getting my mom? Wine. I'm going to go to the winery back home when we're there this weekend and get her a new bottle. It's not the thought that counts in this gift. It's that my mom is awesome and I like to drink with her. They say "give a gift you'd like to receive," and man do I love wine.
And I'm giving her this because I'm really bad at doing gifts for holidays other than Christmas. One year I gave the Boy a leaf blower for his birthday - or maybe it was our anniversary - because I like practical things. I got him a grill our first Christmas married. In 2008 I told my dad "Happy birthday!" and pushed my husband in front of me to announce I'd given him a new son-in-law and we had a good laugh over it; in 2010 I handed my dad my brand new baby and said, "Happy birthday!" Josie arrived three days before his birthday, which is also Boy's and my wedding anniversary.
See? I suck at gift giving. I give alcohol and people as gifts. It's my MO.
Despite all the ads and blog posts and HuffPost stories about what to give this Sunday to the mother figure in your life, it really doesn't matter what you do when it comes to the material gifts. At least that's my belief. What matters are your actions. Don't have time to go buy a cheesy card for her? Call her instead. It'll mean more. Didn't get around to buying that necklace? Take her out to pick something she likes and make the day about her; even if she doesn't find anything she wants to buy, she has the memory of the day. Were you out of town all week for work? Give her a few nights off to go get lost in the world. Didn't even consider doing something with the kids for her? Do something as a family like spending the day at the park. No need to break the bank.
Only skimmed her blog? Read it, Boy. Enjoy the fact that I've given myself enough courage to share these thoughts with people other than you ... because you're generally clueless as to how to handle my crazy and this is a good outlet for me. Even if you never see me as an amazing writer or an amazing mother or an amazing anything, read it and understand the best gift you could give me for Mother's Day - or any day - is the time to do this. I don't want a weekend away at a spa. I don't want a wine tour on Seneca Lake. I don't want breakfast in bed.
All I want is for, at some point in the coming weeks, you to deal with bedtime all by yourself while I lose myself in words. I don't ask for much, but when my frustration mounts and the kids don't listen, I need to get lost in a reality that isn't all of this that I handle on a daily basis. Some moms want diamonds, others want their nail done ... I just want an untold number of hours to write.
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