A Mother’s Day gift, dandelions, no store bought flowers please

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By LISA SMITH MOLINARI / MeatandPotatoes.com

I started dropping non-so-subtle hints last week.

“You do know that Mother’s Day is coming, don’t you?”

I said rather loudly to my husband, Francis.

“Yeah,” he replied defensively, “what about it?”

“Don’t you remember what happened last year?” I could tell from his blank stare that Francis was thinking about peanuts, or Greco-Roman wrestling, or “Deadliest Catch”, because he had no clue what I was talking about.

It was Sunday morning, May 10, 2015, and I was the first one awake. Surprised that no one in my family had brought me a cup of coffee, I thought, “Surely they’ve got something planned for Mother’s Day.”

When I woke our teens for church, they were particularly grumpy. “Seriously?” Anna sassed, “I never get to sleep in!” In protest, Lilly hopped into the minivan wearing a ratty pair of jeans and flip-flops.

Late, as usual, we slipped into a side pew during the first reading. Francis yawned during the gospel, Anna wouldn’t hold my hand during the “Our Father,” and no one but me sang the hymns. I would normally be annoyed, but I figured they were just pretending to be lazy, disrespectful and negligent, because then I’d be really surprised when they revealed their fabulous Mother’s Day plans.

“Go in peace, the mass has ended,” Father Kris said, adding, “And Happy Mother’s Day!”

I was halfway down the isle before I realized that my family was still in the pew, whispering to each other. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” I thought.

Francis drove us to La Forge, a locals’ favorite brunch spot. “Do you have reservations, sir? We’re all booked up,” the host said politely. After exploring a few more dead ends, we got a mixed dozen in the Dunkin’ Donuts Drive Thru and headed home, Francis promising that something special was in store.

Francis and the kids darted into the house, presumably to get ready for those fabulous Mother’s Day plans, and I sat in our sunny back yard to get out of their way.

Suddenly, Francis, who didn’t see me in the backyard, rushed out to the minivan, the tires squealing as he drove away. Fifteen minutes later he was back, and as he ran past the backyard gate, he saw me sitting there.

In his hands were a 7-11 plastic bag that appeared to be holding a greeting card, and a cellophane cone wrapped around a sad-looking bouquet. From the look in his eyes, I knew the truth.

My family had completely forgotten about Mother’s Day.

If that weren’t bad enough, Francis had bought me something he knows I don’t like: cut flowers.

When the kids were young, I loved the sticky bunches of dandelions they’d pick for me out of our backyard. I was so proud of their thoughtfulness, and I’d place the oozing stems in a little jelly jar in the center of our kitchen table. But I have never liked cut flowers bought from the store, and my family has known this for years.

Seeing Francis sneaking in the house, something snapped.

Mothers work tirelessly and selflessly to raise kids and create a homes for their families. Many, like me, put their careers aside, giving up all aspirations for professional rewards and respect, to dedicate themselves to their families. This is the one day when mom should expect a pat on the back.

Determined that my family would not “get the check in the box,” I calmly walked into the house, called everyone into the kitchen and announced, “Mother’s Day is hereby cancelled.”

Thanks to the yearlong guilt trip I put them on, I’m fairly confident that my family will have a fabulous day planned for me this year.

More not-so-subtle hints: Bring me a cup of coffee without spilling it on the staircase. Make your beds without griping. Let’s go to church on time for once, and at least pretend to sing the hymns. Find a sunny spot for a family picnic, without anyone complaining that someone else took the last bag of ranch Doritos. Later, the kids can cook something for dinner that doesn’t have chocolate chips, and clean up without suctioning each other with the Shop Vac. And lastly, a thoughtful homemade card with personal sentiments would be nice, instead of “Have a good Mother’s Day—Hayden Molinari.”

And if you must get flowers, I prefer dandelions. n