I really, really, love my mom. She is super loving, supportive, and and wonderful person. I'm really, really, lucky to be her daughter.
Until she gives me a gift.
Now, I really don't want to come off as ungrateful, because she did give me the ultimate gift- life. And for that I am eternally grateful- but c'mon, Mom, a fucking Dream Catcher for my 21st birthday? Christ!
For Christmas, I'll get a variety of stress-reliving CDs, a family-size pack of dried fruit, and a forest-green mock turtleneck. My sister will unwrap some cinnamon-flavored incense, a pair of Isotoners, and a silver bolo tie. My dad will get about eight Cosby sweaters and sunscreen. It's like she went into a Costco or Sam's Club blindfolded.
When my husband joined the family, he got a lot of rocks. Like, literally, rocks. He's a geologist and actually adores.....rocks.
"Thanks, Mom!" He says enthusiastically, opening his third piece of granite while my sister is strangling herself with the bolo tie under the Christmas tree and Dad has disappeared under his mountain of argyle.
"No problem," Mom says, and gives him a big hug. I can see her smirking at me over his shoulder and then she says to me, "If you're lucky, honey, YOU might get rocks next year."
That's another one of her tricks. She loves to pit us against each other for these gifts. And somehow, it occasionally works.
"Why did Dad get a rope light and I didn't?" I whined, drunk on eggnog and Captain Morgan- a lethal combination. And by the way, rope light is just what you think it is- a rope of twinkle lights. It's pretty much the dumbest thing on earth.
"Well," Mom says settling down on the couch. "We don't always get what we want, do we?" My husband was stacking his rocks on top of each other, and my sister was officially passed out, the bolo tie now a noose around her neck.
The kicker out of all this is that Mom always gets great gifts- Coach purses, silk robes, European fragrances. She always thanks us, and then these items disappear into the back of her closet, never to see daylight again. I definitely know how the Indians felt when they got a case of liquor in exchange for the state of Kansas.
Maybe I need to switch it up- get Mom the same random shit she is distributing off on us. A toothpick holder in the shape of a wolf, a scarf the color of vomit, 3-pack of deodorant. You know, the basics.
Looks like me and Captain Morgan are going to need to make a Costco run.
Quarter Life Whatever
3 years ago