Oh I Wish...

As Mother's Day rapidly approaches, I am once again being being hounded by my family for gift ideas.  Well, let me amend that statement-- my kids are starting to hound me, which is surprising-- but not a single peep from Hubby.  Not yet, anyway.  The questions from my kids started last weekend, when Princess and Birdie noticed all the Mother's Day cards at Target.

My response to their inquiries was a very eloquent "uhhhhh, I dunno?!"  This is my standard response to a question like that.  I have learned the hard way that this is not a good response.

My priceless, and very carefully selected
birthday frog

If I've learned anything in my eight years of motherhood, it's that you need to be very specific when it comes to gift requests.  Especially when your kids are asking.  Otherwise, you have to pray that you look sufficiently ecstatic about the blue rubber sand-filled stretchy frog you'll get on your birthday.  Or the woolen black dress that you are most definitely allergic to but expected to wear anyway.  Or the perfume that smells like a funeral home.  Or the, and I quote, "I don't want to give away what I got you for Christmas with my hint, but I can tell you it looks like Santa and you can drink coffee from it!"  These memories of presents past have since motivated me to issue a preemptive strike in the form of a want list.  It's a very predictable list.

Except for rare occasions, I have very little in the way of gift ideas.  I am extremely boring and easy to please, as long as you don't get too creative.  I don't like jewelry and I despise flowers.  (Hubby really dodged a bullet there, as he is happy to let other hubbies know.)  You can fuel my fiber addiction and buy me a gift card to A.C. Moore, where I will gladly stock up on loads of yarn.  You can fuel my coffee addiction or candy addiction. You can buy me kitchen gadgets and cookbooks.  You can feed me Mexican food.  Or if you are underfunded, you can orchestrate alone time for me.  Or give me a hug--  I don't really care as long as I'm remembered.  My kids don't like any of my suggestions.  "Isn't there something else you wish for?!"  Implied:  Like a rubber frog?!


I can't really come up with any new "wants" for my list.  But wishes?...  I have quite a few of those.  I can imagine several little things that would bring me a great measure of bliss.  Any or all would be fine with me:

1.  I wish I could smell the ocean air, without the annoyance of sand everywhere. (That sounds very Seuss-y to me after reading it aloud.)

2.  I wish hot wings and peach cobbler were diet foods.

3.  I wish reading and crochet were cardiovascular exercises.  Then I'd be one hot mama rather than shoe-horning my butt into the majority of my pants.  (Also, it would makeWish #2 unnecessary!)

4.  I wish my dog could lick his own butt.  I know this sounds crazy-- I never thought I'd say it myself.  I was actually thrilled when I first learned bulldogs can't reach their own nether regions.  No worries about ass kisses from my dog!  The flip side of that:  if he doesn't clean his own ass, who do you think does?!

5.  I wish my girls could tie their own shoes.

6.  I wish I knew for sure what zipcode I'll be living in next fall.

7.  I wish Smart cars were called something else-- ANYTHING else, for that matter.  Most.  Ridiculous. Vehicle. Name. EVER!  It absolutely does not look smart.  It looks like death on wheels.  Pretty sure that's not Smart.  (I don't know why this vehicle annoys me so much, but I feel animosity toward it!  Is that even sane?)

8.  I wish I could drink a glass of wine when Hubby is out of town without feeling guilt.  The "responsible adult" in me lays the guilt on thick if I have a beer or a glass of wine when I am the only grown up at home.  I am secretly terrified that if I ever dared to have *gasp* a second glass, some catastrophe would ensue, and I'd have to get a DD to take my kid to the hospital.   Wouldn't that be classy!

Dear Genie,  I only ask for a few small things...

9.  I wish I could hug my children and absorb all their stress, worries, pain and difficulties each day.  I would keep it for my own, if I had to, to make them happy.

10.  I wish I could go an entire day using my regular speaking voice.  No yelling, singing, whispering, mommy tone, teacher tone, or monotone (to prevent implying more than I am saying with my words)-- just my voice.

11.  I wish I could SLEEP!!!  Real sleep.  Without freaky dreams of tornados, or being chased, or having to rescue someone.  Sleep without interruption.  Ooooohhh...  Just fantasizing about that kind of sleep makes me smile-- imagine what the real thing could do for me!

Now if I can just get ahold of one of those magic lamps...

Do you have a wish for the magic lamp?  It never hurts to ask...