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?!

My Imaginary Friend Sleep

Not my photo of my imaginary friends

When I was a young girl, about the same age my daughters are now, I had two imaginary friends:  Starsky and Hutch.  I doubt they were very similar to their namesakes from the tv show in anyway-- all I knew about the tv characters I learned in 30sec commercial snippets played during the Muppet Show.  My Starsky and Hutch were 3 inches tall and could fit in my pocket.  They didn't carry guns because my dad wouldn't allow guns in the house.  They never went into the bathroom with me because that would have just been gross.  We had tea parties and played school together.  I would dig them tunnels in my sand box.  They would swim in the puddles that formed in my driveway after a big rain, and I would splash around the edge and act as their lifeguard if need be.  They were always easy to find when I needed company.  We played together for months-- so happy together.  Then one day they disappeared and I never saw them again.  I never figured out what happened to them.  Did they abandon me?  Did they meet a tragic end?  I thought the point of imaginary friends was that you could count on them...