Mother’s Day

I am writing this on Friday but it will be my Monday entry. I try to stay at least one day ahead so if I have a rough day and can’t write or have a mental block, I can still go to press. Sunday is the holiday that every husband loves to hate, Mother’s Day. If I were to take the advice of the commercials on the radio, there would be some kind of diamond something wrapped and bowed on Sunday. Or maybe a Vermont Teddy Bear delivered to her office for her friends to get jealous over. Neither of those seems overly practical. Getting flowers is a nice but once they start the droop and die process, they are pitched and forgotten.

You have to at least get a card. And if you have kids, they need to get one for their mother also. If you are good, you can combine the two. Since no sane man would buy his wife clothes, you have to look for something that is practical, useful, decorative, and most of all not a labor saving device. No vacuum cleaners, mixers, toaster ovens or anything that implies that they are responsible for performing labor around the house. This after all a day for moms to lounge around the house and be pampered, not for them to think about all of the things they should be doing.

One way of giving your wife something and not having to do much is to take her out for dinner on Sunday. This avoids you having to do any real labor and makes her happy that you though ahead to making reservations to her favorite place. That is if you have thought that far ahead. If not, you can spend a leisurely afternoon sitting in the waiting list area of the restaurant. The good thing about that is she will at least be relaxing. The bad part is that any happy thought will not be about you.

Icool

Cobb