In honor of Mother’s Day — which is Sunday, May 13, for everybody slapping their foreheads and saying, “Uh-oh. Mother’s Day is coming? I knew it was sometime in the spring.” — here’s a conversation Older Daughter reported to me the other day. Because Mother’s Day is sort of Grandmother’s Day, too:
Older Daughter was driving with her 4-year-old son/our grandson Nolan in the backseat. Nolan asked his mommy if she would hand him one of his Cars books to read. “No,” she said. “Remember that looking at books while you’re in your car seat makes you throw up sometimes.” He considered this for a moment and then asked, “Mommy, do you feel like you’re going to throw up right now?” Wondering where this was headed, she said, “No. I don’t feel sick at all. Why?” Explaining his well-thought-out plan, Nolan said, “Well, if you did throw up then we could go home and you could get in bed and Daddy could take care of you and we could call Kacky (Note: That’s me!) to come take care of me and you could throw up with Daddy and Kacky could play with me.”
Genius child! So, to recap — I’m the first person our grandson Nolan thinks of when the subject is being sick and throwing up. Which is exactly what we grandmothers want.
Happy (Grand)Mothers’ Day!
I’m not sure what our (at this point) almost-3-year-old grandson, Capt. Adorable, was thinking here at his mothers’-day-out Easter program after-party. He’s in the 2-year-old class, which was the youngest group to perform in the annual spring event — and by “perform” I mean “stare bleakly out at the audience and try to get out of his chair numerous times.” He loved singing the oh-so-cute little songs about bunnies and chicks and birds and flowers AT HOME. But, sadly, singing before an adoring audience of Mommy and Daddy and Kacky did not prepare him for singing in front of an impersonal audience of hundreds of strangers who did not jump up and down and hug him in delight after he finished each tune. He stuck it out, however, even as he silently implored his mommy and me with his precious Capt. Adorable eyes to please take him offstage to someplace where there were trucks and trains and other cool things. He actually sing and make the hand motions to one song. Out of about 12, that is. But, still. We thought the party treat of chocolate cupcakes would cheer him up, but it took awhile. Does this photo capture him contemplating revenge? Is he already rehearsing the words his 37-year-old self will tell his therapist: “Oh my gosh, when I was almost 3 my mother and my grandmother forced me on stage and I’ve never been the same since.”? Or perhaps he’s simply eyeing the party plate of the child sitting across from him. Actually, however, I’ve seen this look before. It means “I’m not happy and I want you to know it but I’m not going to go all 2-year-old on you and scream and cry and throw myself on the floor. I just want you to know that I’m extremely not happy. And you will pay.” I first got this look when he was about 9 months old and I put this darling hat and scarf on him one windy winter afternoon. He was not amused. Sort of, you know, like when he’s made to sit on a stage and sing Easter songs.
I love this book! Younger Daughter gave it to me for Mother’s Day and I laughed all the way through my favorite banana-and-peanut-butter-toast breakfast. Amy Sedaris is a comic genius and her 2006 “I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence” (and, really, isn’t that the best way to offer some?) is the perfect blend of her signature retro humor and actual real recipes. It’s like you stumbled onto your crazy grandmother’s cookbook where she tucked articles on pantyhose crafts and how to make a paperclip necklace in between the pages. I mean, one minute you’re giggling over Sedaris’ advice that children’s parties always should have a time limit, “like, ‘from 2 to 2:30’,” and then you’re salivating over her recipe for “Real Chocolate Cake” and later still you’re pondering the command to look radiant when you open the door to your party guests — “It should appear as though you’ve used witchcraft.” Luckily, Sedaris gives us all the non-witchcraft help you need to be a thoughtful and serene hostess, secure in the fact that you’re covered for every entertaining emergency, even serving lunch to a lumberjack. Because you just never know. If you don’t have a wonderful child who gifted you this book for Mother’s Day, go out and buy it for yourself. And if you want to read it with a peanut-butter-and-banana-toast sandwich like I did, go here, https://cathylwood.wordpress.com/2009/01/05/healthy-eating/, for our recipe.
My husband and I are pretty independent people and usually function successfully without having to know what the other’s doing and where he/she’s doing it every minute of the day. So I was surprised when he uncharacteristically questioned me about my estimated whereabouts for Thursday. “Are you going to be around the house all day?” he asked. Several times, in fact. Finally, he admitted he’d ordered something for my Mother’s Day present and it was supposed to be delivered sometime on Thursday. Naturally, because I’m annoyingly nosy charmingly curious, I tried to figure out what was coming. Not flowers, for sure. Dear Husband used to send lovely bouquets to the newsroom where I used to work, but now that my office is my kitchen table and I don’t have co-workers to be jealous of to admire the flowers, what’s the use? And we can’t have fresh flowers at the house because the cats eat them and, of course, regret it a couple of hours later. Yuck. So, what would my husband have come up with for a Mother’s Day delivery? I couldn’t imagine — and couldn’t wait to find out. Finally, the FedEx truck pulled up and this is what I got: The most delicious and adorable chocolate-covered strawberries I’ve ever seen. I mean, these babies are huge! And gorgeous. Now, I know that a chocolate-covered strawberry is one of those things that sometimes does not deliver on its promise — it can look a lot better than it tastes, right? But these were red and juicy and fresh … as promised. They’re from Shari’s Berries, http://www.berries.com/. I loved these so much that I didn’t even mind when Dear Husband said he’d heard the company advertised on a radio show that … well, let’s just say I don’t agree with the host’s political views and usually try to avoid all contact with anything at least slightly related to this guy. But I’m making an exception here. Yup — apparently all it takes to buy me off is a box of chocolate-strawberry perfection.