Saratoga News

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Mother's Day mistakes that will last a lifetime

By Dick Sparrer

My wife and I were slapping around the radio's snooze bar the other morning, vainly attempting to put off the inevitable move out of bed to get ready for work, when a commercial came on.

Turns out it was my friend in the diamond business, the guy at the Shane Company, telling everyone that diamonds make the best Mother's Day gifts.

A solid elbow to the rib cage rocked me from my sweet dreams.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Natalie said in a sugary-sweet voice. "Are you sleeping?"

"Well, not anymore," I snapped, probing my torso for any cracked ribs. "And my rib cage is ... "

"Shhh, listen to this," she said, as if it was some important network news bulletin.

I listened for a moment, then said, "Hey, this is just a commercial about some sale for Mother's D ... "

Oh, my God (picture a light bulb going on over my head)! It's that time of the year again already?

Yep, and it's coming up this weekend, just as it does every second Sunday in May. It's "I'm Going To Get Into Trouble Day." Now, you probably call it Mother's Day around your house, but not me. Somehow, I've managed to get in trouble on this particular day every year for my entire married life that spanned 32 years with Randee and now two with Natalie.

Oh, I have no problems with my mom. She's easy to please.

"Just a card, that's all I want," she'll say. "You don't have to get me a present. But you could stop by to visit more often ... or even call now and then ... or ... " (Whoa, that's a story for another day.)

No, it's not Mom that's the problem ... it's always been my wife. OK, so maybe it's my own fault. I suppose I've made a few Mother's Day miscues over the years, especially with Randee:

* Like the year she was complaining because of no special attention and I blurted, "Hey, you're not my mother!" Bad decision. Very bad decision.

* Like the year the boys made her breakfast in bed, using every pot, plate and utensil in the kitchen to create a mess of burned toast, scrambled eggs (shells included), cold coffee, warm orange juice ... and then she expected us to clean the kitchen! Hey, we would have, but it was a mess!

* And like the year we ... well, I forgot what day it was, and the boys and I had to run down to Safeway to get her some supermarket flowers and a bag of Reese's Pieces. She wasn't pleased, especially since the daisies smelled a lot like pork chops.

What ever happened to the days when kids took care of the Mother's Day stuff? When I was a kid, it used to be so easy.

I remember one year in elementary school when we made our moms these very special candles. The teacher helped us pour melted wax into a square mold, and then we stuck a wick in the middle. When it cooled and hardened, we jammed sequins in the sides with small stick pins. The finished product looked like a square lump of wax with a wick in the middle and sparkling sequins on all sides.

She loved it. Go figure.

In junior high, we had two choices for our spring project--either a cutting board that would make a perfect Mother's Day gift, or a shoeshine box that would work well on Father's Day.

Selecting my project was a no-brainer--the cutting board for Mom. It's not that I favored her over Dad. It's just he had this talent for taking a block of wood and creating a dining room set. I didn't need that kind of pressure.

So I went with the cutting board--a hunk of wood with an ugly piece of green tile inset in the middle. It was so godawful ugly that I was lucky to pull a C.

She loved it.

Not that she ever used it, mind you (except for once ... the next Thanksgiving when all of the grout chipped out from around the tile and mixed in with the Gouda). But she still has it 43 years later--right there in the back of the cupboard alongside the candle.

I remember what we kids did for Mom during those years of our childhood, but what I don't recall is Dad doing anything. When exactly did that change? And when was it precisely that diamonds became part of a Mother's Day gift?

"Let's see," Natalie said, almost thinking aloud, "we've been married for about two years ... so I'd say it was about two years ago."

"So you're expecting me to get you a present for Mother's Day?" I asked, obviously having learned nothing in 34 years of marriage.

She stared at me a while, almost in disbelief, then said, "Well, yeah ... and make sure it sparkles."

Sparkles? Great. I'm going with the sequined candle.