To all the dads out there — Mother’s Day is coming up; and it’s coming up fast.
In case you’ve managed to miss all the buzz about it, you should probably do yourself a favor and get a television. Or one of those newfangled radios. Because every other commercial will soon be some iteration of the following (*to be read in your cheesiest radio commercial voice*):
“Guys. HEY GUYS! It’s Mother’s Day this Sunday. So come on down to (Fill-in-the-Blank) Flowers, where we’ve got you covered! Mom will love our wide selection of … um … flowers. Flowers of all kinds and colors. Like red and yellow and pink. They smell good and you will too when you hand Mom a bouquet of these beauties. So come on down to (Fill-in-the-Blank) Flowers, where we don’t stop sniffing until you smell your best!”
But let’s be real — if we were to put honest subtitles to these commercials, they would probably read something like this:
“You. HEY, YOU. Under the rock. It’s Mother’s Day. We do it Every. Year. How is it possible you can’t come up with something other than flowers? Again. You know what wide selection Mom might really enjoy? Any gift that moves beyond a wide selection of flowers. You think flowers leave you smelling good? Try something from the bouquet of beauties below.”
(And for all you who are married to the idea of flowers, don’t worry! We’ll work them in for you.)
Bring her breakfast in bed.
Or even breakfast out of bed. Just something warm that includes some coffee and/or juice. Extra points if your toddler/child/tween helps mix the batter or the berries into the fruit bowl.
“But I’m not a freakin’ chef!” I can hear some of you screaming. Relax. Just grab a box of pancake mix, butter, and some syrup. You can’t go wrong. (Hint: If you burn the pancakes, put on way more syrup. Problem solved.)
Flower purists: Place one on the tray. My guess is she won’t even notice it as she stuffs her face with something you and the kid(s) made for her.
Surprise her with a picnic in the park.
Tell her that you’d really like to show her the thing at Home Depot that you’ve been dying to build; or that you forgot that you need to run to the store and she should come with for moral support; or that you’d like to go for a run and you need her to drop you off 4.5 miles from the house.
“But I hate running!” I can hear some of you whining. Whatever. Just pick your ruse and get Mom and the kids in tow with a trunk already stuffed full of picnic gear (blanket, cheese/crackers/her favorite easy-to-pack foods/wine, cups, and napkins). Then steer her straight to a shady spot and watch the magic unfold, along with the blanket.
Flower purists: Grab a couple dandelions from the park’s grass, and it’ll be the best bouquet ever.
Write her something meaningful that isn’t on a screen and has nothing to do with who’s picking up the kids.
Back in the day, there were quills and parchment. To this day, there exist pens and paper. It is often found in old-timey stores where everything has a sepia tone to it. Grab one of each and write. Something. ANYTHING. “But I’m not freakin’ Shakespeare! Or even whoever wrote that Fifty Shades crap!” I can hear some of you screaming. It makes no difference. Start with “I just want you to know that you are … ” or “On this day I am reminded of all that you … ” You don’t even have to write that much because you will also enlist any children that might be around the house to add their thoughts. They’ll take up half the page.
Flower Purists: Draw a bouquet of flowers on top. Draw an arrow to the flowers and write, “I was going to get you these.” Then draw an arrow pointing to your words and write, “But instead I got you these.” BOOM.
Make her dinner.
“Wait! I already told you I’m not some freakin’ chef!” you say. Guys, GUYS it won’t matter. She will literally give zero …um … cares about that. Because if you’re the guy doing any of the above screaming, she’ll be too in awe to care about the results. If you’re really worried, grab a nice bottle of wine and try one of these. And like the pancakes, if you burn something or screw it up, just put more wine in your glasses and call in Chinese take-out. Problem solved.
Flower Purists: Buy a super nice bouquet and put them in the center of the table. She’ll keep pushing them out of the way to gaze at you lovingly.
Give her a massage.
“But I don’t know how! I ’m not some freakin’ masseuse!” I can hear a few of you bellowing. Listen, I don’t want to get too personal here. So I won’t. But here’s the deal: Get some lotion, put her feet on your lap as she leans back on the couch/bed, rub aforementioned lotion onto her foot, using pressure with your thumbs on the sole especially. Repeat on other foot. Repeat on shoulders. Repeat … You get the idea.
Flower Purists: If she misses flowers after this, send me a direct message. We’ll talk.