Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should…

I should be grateful that I get anything at all for Mother’s Day. Really, I should be. While the kids are old enough to start making me gifts at church or school, they are not old enough to go out and purchase a card. The biggest downfall of being single is that there is no one to take them out and purchase a gift for me on their behalf.

It’s just the way that it is.

And for the most part, I’m okay with that. Please don’t get me wrong I love the ashtrays paperweights crafts in which they bring home wrapped in paper bags professing their love for me, regardless is everyone in the class professed their love for their mother in the same way. I really do.

Although, secretly, I love the fact that the “perfect” moms get the same unidentifiable objects as the result of art time that I do. Kinda makes us all equal, ya know?

I’m really not some selfish mother who wants to be showered with gifts because I pour my heart into being their mother, putting gourmet sometimes edible meals on the table every night, driving them all over God’s green earth, cleaning up puke, wiping noses, listening to the drama, helping with school projects, and all the other ways that help my nomination for Mother of the Year.

So when I did have a serious, we’re-going-to-get-married-one-day-and-live-happily-ever-after-boyfriend, I was excited at the possibility of receiving a gift in recognition of the mothering I did for not only my children but his children as well. (After all, how many 28 year-olds were helping to put a kid through college? Not that I’m bitter or anything.)

It was easy to remind him of the upcoming day in which I should be honored as he, too, had a mother who needed a gift. Being a man, I was sure that he wouldn’t remember so I would gently remind him of the upcoming holiday and how he needed to remember to pick up a card and a gift for her. Each time that I mentioned it, I silently prayed that he would remember me when he was out picking out the perfect card grabbing the first card that he laid eyes on and gift for the woman who gave him life.

He was out of town that first mother’s day but when I saw him pull into the driveway, I spied from the bedroom window to see if he would simply slam the door and walk up the steps to the house or if he would rummage around, making sure that his gift was kept hidden, before he entered the house to give me my Mother’s Day surprise.

He got out of the car, but he paused. He wasn’t coming right into the house. My excitement level increased.

I heard him call for the kids. This was good! This was very, very good. My hands were clasped together as I continued to peek through the dusty blinds. (Mental note: Blinds need cleaned.)

The kids came running. I saw him say something to them. I’m not a great lip reader however, I’m positive that he said “I got you a ring to give to your mother for mother’s day.” Oh how wonderful. This was going to be the best mother’s day. EVER. I just knew it.

It was all I could do not to jump up and down, giddy with excitement.

He opened his back door and my oldest, then 8, leaned in and looked as if he was struggling to remove the item that lied on the back seat of his old-beat up ’85, paint peeling, Jetta.

I could hardly contain myself. As I saw the item that Matthew emerged with, coupled with the huge smile on his face, I was suddenly torn.

Surely, my son is not carrying a potted plant up to give to me, right? I know, I know… there’s a ring or something inside that plant. Down in the dirt. It was his way of proposing and including the kids, right?

Right?

I quickly grabbed my book and parked myself on the couch so that they wouldn’t know I had seen the prior moments unfold outside my bedroom window.

The three of them opened the door and I put on my best “oh! for me?” face as Matthew handed me the plant. The live plant.

It had to have been a joke on his part because my thumb?

Anything but green.

I’ve killed plants that are guaranteed to live no matter what, including a cactus.

As I oohed and aahed over this plant, I was trying to peek and see if there was anything else in there. I was looking for that ring, or earrings, any jewelry would do, really. I didn’t care. I just knew there had to be something down in there. I just knew it.

He leaned in and gave me a kiss as he whispered, “Happy Mother’s Day” in my ear. I thought he had a grin on his face. That meant there was more, right? I’m missing something. This isn’t it. There’s more.

All I could find sticking up out of the mushy, dark soil was the plant stake that told me it was a geranium. That’s it. The man that I was gaga over bought me a freaking GERANIUM for Mother’s Day. A gift card to Lowe’s would’ve thrilled me more.

By this time, he had retreated to the kitchen to collect his Diet Coke with Lime, his beverage of choice. I heard the refrigerator door close and as he rounded the corner and walked back into the living room he gasped.

“I almost forgot!”

Yes! This was it! There WAS something else. I knew it!

“I got you a card. It’s even a Hallmark.”

Well, praise Jesus you care enough to send the very best. Apparently, only when it comes to cards.

He took the monstrosity of a plant from me and put it on the porch and watered it. He was smiling, this whole plant thing was okay with him. He could identify them and tell you when they were best planted and how to care for them. I stood on the porch watching him, trying hard to conceal my disappointment and kicking myself for being resentful over this stupid stupid thing he calls an appropriate gift for a hard working mother.

I soon got over my disappointment and I worked hard over the next few weeks to care for this new addition to my front porch. His mother, for the record, received the same plant, and like him, she has a knack for growing things. Hers grew and had been repotted several times but mine was failing to thrive.

Eventually, after bringing it in the house for the winter it passed on to flower heaven. I won’t lie. It didn’t bother me that it died. It was one less living object that I had to deal with.

And I guess this whole ordeal wouldn’t have been so horrific if I didn’t go through it the following Mother’s Day when he again came home with a geranium. It was even the same color! Surely a year later he knew me well enough to know that I DON’T WANT PLANTS FOR GIFTS.

Only this time he told me that I would get a geranium every mother’s day until I could keep one alive for a whole year. I’m sure he meant it to be funny.

It wasn’t.

I don’t know if he was serious about his threat as we broke up 4 months later but I assure you, it had nothing to do with his Mother’s Day gift selections…. well, almost nothing.

***

As we approach Mother’s Day 2008 it’s been two years since that dreadful repeat of the Mother’s Day mishap. Obviously, I didn’t stick around to see what would be bestowed upon me in 2007 and I’ve been single ever since. And I’ve cherished the elbow bowls and other assorted clay items that have entered our home. However, going forward, any man I enter into a relationship with will promptly be provided with my uersname to Get In Her Head upon introduction. Get In Her Head is a free service for couples who want to get it right every time.

Additionally, the Parent Bloggers Network wants to hear about your gift receiving experiences so let’s hear them! Who knows, your worst gift experience may lead to a $250 gift certificate to the spa of your choice. (That’s what I’m hoping for… because seriously… a GERANIUM?????? I have to be compensated for that somehow!)

In his defense, at other gift giving holidays I did receive exactly what I wanted, and yes, even jewelry, which may explain why I was so disappointed at the arrival of this plant. Just goes to show you, expectations are premeditated resentments.

Until next time…