Not So Perfect

By Risa Goldstein

Friends who read my columns often thank me for shamelessly exposing the insanity that goes on in my family life. They say it makes them feel a bit more normal. With that in mind, here's another lesson learned at my expense -- a Mother's Day moment I'm less than proud of.

It began a week before that special Sunday in May. "Are you going to buy Mother's Day cards for our moms soon?" my husband Jeffrey asked innocently.

"Already taken care of. I bought and sent them the other day," I answered nonchalantly.

"Did you get one for yourself?" he half-joked. "And, oh, am I buying you something for Mother's Day this year?"

"Camp bills and school tuition for both girls are due, so money's pretty tight. Let's not buy each other gifts this year," I said. "Just give me whatever the girls make at school." Can't you picture the angelic halo floating over my head?

But the truth was I wanted a gift. Some beautiful piece of jewelry. A spa gift certificate. Or even one of those trendy shrugs I saw all the hip moms wearing around the school parking lot. Actually, I just wanted Jeffrey to be able to read my mind, to know instinctively that I'd love getting one of those things and to confidently hand it to me early that Sunday morning.

Yes, I was a total loser for wanting something -- anything! -- and saying the complete opposite. And when Jeffrey gave me nothing for Mother's Day (just like I'd told him to do), he'd simply be honoring my wish. How could I ask for anything more than a husband who respected me? What more could a woman want?

A present! (Haven't you been paying attention?)

So there I was, Mother's Day morning, hoping Jeffrey had completely ignored my idiotic declaration and taken our girls to the mall for a surprise-to-mommy gift.

When Jeffrey suggested I go into the bathroom to take a shower, I imagined him and the girls setting up some big "surprise". But when I finished showering and opened the door, still damp and smiling, no one (and more importantly, nothing) waited for me on the other side. Later, when almost-five-year-old Shayna asked me to help pick out shoes to wear with her purple dress, I was sure I'd find a pretty little package just for me sitting at the bottom of her closet.

Nope, nothing again.

At breakfast I was greeted with a robust, "Happy Mother's Day!" as seven-year-old Breanna and her sister proudly handed me the special projects they'd made at school, each very lovingly wrapped. I opened them gingerly, hugging my girls with all the love in my heart -- and a not-so-secret glance at Jeffrey's still-empty hands.

I'm not proud to admit that by the time we'd finished lunch, I was exhausted and quite grumpy. It wasn't easy to prepare for a surprise, then instantly hide my disappointment, hour after hour.
By 2:00, my dirty little secret was exposed. Jeffrey was called in to work -- wasn't Mother's Day sacred to ANYONE? -- and I lost it.

"What do you mean you have to go to work? You're going to leave me here alone with the girls on MOTHER'S DAY!!!!" I exploded. "Most men are pampering their wives, not abandoning them." I was totally out of control.

"Please don't make me feel worse than I already do," Jeffrey pleaded as he gathered his work stuff. "You have to know work is the last thing I want to do today. I'll be back in an hour or so," he continued, turning toward the door. "I'm sorry."

"Well," I began, "you should be sorry." But then I stopped, taking a humiliating moment to listen to myself rant.

"Actually, I'm the one who's sorry," I conceded, my cheeks beginning to blush. "I've been unfair to you. I'm the one who said don't get me a gift, and all day I've been mad that you actually listened."

"So you wanted me to buy you a present even after you told me not to?" Boy, did Jeffrey seem confused.

"Yes," I said, guilty and embarrassed.

Why did I care so much if Jeffrey got me something? Was it because I needed some concrete form of appreciation? After all I, like most mothers, tended to do the bulk of the care for our girls, from nursing our babies to laundry, cooking, and carpooling. Didn't I deserve something to show for it? Was I alone in craving some Mother's Day recognition? Was I that shallow? I wondered.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you a Mother's Day gift," Jeffrey said before he left for work. "I'll make it up to you when I get home. I'll take the girls to the park, give them a bath and put them to bed. You should have some time to yourself to take a nap, read a book, soak in a long, hot bath."

While Jeffrey was away at work, I realized I no longer needed a present, something to hold in my hand. I was punishing him for my own insecurity. I had no doubt that he appreciated me. And by offering to give me a little time off, Jeffrey was saying he knew how hard I worked and that I deserved a break. It was exactly the recognition I needed, though if he threw in a day at the spa, I certainly wouldn't complain!

Risa Goldstein is a writer/editor who spent 14 years in the New York publishing industry before "retiring" to sunny Southern California with her husband and their two amazing daughters. She can be reached at She can be reached at risa@familymanonline.com.