As we’ve zipped through the last month pandemic-style, it hit me that May was fast approaching.
The fifth month of the year, the month that was always a Pretty Big Deal in my house because it held the Redhead Prime’s birthday and Mother’s Day within the same moon phase and on many occasions, on the same day.
I immediately thought of all those Mother’s Days I was able to go home and how I wished I was making that drive back to my little hometown this year.
But this year, it’s too risky.
There won’t be the debate as to whether I was coming there, or Mama was coming here; no discussion about what food to make or bring. This year, we would be celebrating safely apart.
I also started thinking about what I could get Mama for Mother’s Day.
She’s not very picky and usually demurs any gift with, “You didn’t have to do that.”
Mama is not one that likes for anyone to make a fuss over her — the complete opposite of how Granny was. Granny expected and demanded a royal fuss be made.
“Where’s my card?” she asked once after she tore open her gift.
“I didn’t get you a card, Granny,” I replied. “Hallmark doesn’t make a Mother’s Day slash birthday-for-my-grandmother card combo.”
“They missing out on a very important market,” was her response.
Maybe they are.
But Mama isn’t big on cards. I’m not either, finding they seldom properly convey what I want to express. They ain’t exactly cheap either.
Flowers aren’t really Mama’s thing either. She thinks they are lovely but will gently remind me they were prettier when they were in the ground.
Once I sent Granny flowers and instead of a phone call of gratitude, I got an interrogation.
“Where did you get them flowers?” she demanded.
I told her the place I had ordered them from, thinking she was so impressed with their beauty she was going to tell all her friends.
“How much was they?”
“It doesn’t matter how much they cost,” I said, wanting the mean old gal to feel special.
“Because if you paid over a buck fifty for ‘em, you got ripped off. Don’t be sending me no flowers. I can grow prettier ones in my own dadblamed yard! I should be a-growing flowers for whoever sent these.”
In all honesty, Granny was able to grow some amazing flowers and even once brought a little tabletop Zen garden back to life that was two weeks past its expiration date.
Mama likes her lotions from Bath & Body, but right now, she probably wanted her hand sanitizer I always got her more than her Japanese Cherry Blossom.
I thought about getting her a cushion with her beloved Bennie on it but when I mentioned that to her a while back, she didn’t seem too interested.
Plus, I couldn’t find the right picture of her cat. Knowing Mama, she probably took it.
When I asked her if there was anything in particular she wanted the other day, to gauge her interest, she replied with, “Steak. The store has been out when I do my order and I have been wanting a New York Strip. Bobby was too.”
I saved my speech about how this would be a good time for them to get out of the notion that meat at every meal and as a snack was a good diet, deciding to go back on that tirade during calmer, less stressful times. Right now, my Mama was asking where the beef was, and I didn’t have an answer.
She likes to read, so I get her tons of books. I think she is up to date on James Patterson’s latest and not sure what else she’d read.
Then an idea hit me.
I only hoped I could find it.
When I did, I hit the ‘add to cart’ button quickly and placed my order.
A week later, Mama called quite excited.
“I just got a box of toilet paper delivered!”
“I’m so glad it came, Mama!” I said.
“We had some toilet paper,” she began. “It wasn’t what I liked. It was that awful stuff you and your uncle like. I like my soft, fluffy TP.”
“I know, Mama, that’s why I sent you that.”
“Oh, really? That was so nice! You know, you take for granted being able to go to the store and get two different kinds of tissue. How much was it? I’ll pay you back for it.”
“No, you won’t either, Mama,” I began. “It’s a gift.”
“A gift?” she asked.
“Yup. Happy Mother’s Day — you got some triple ply this year.”
And my Crazy Redhead was happy to get it.
Sudie Crouch is an award-winning humor columnist residing in the North Georgia Mountains among the bears, deer, and possibly Sasquatch. You can connect with her on Facebook at Mama Said: A Collection of Wit, Humor, and Deep-Fried Wisdom. Her recently published book, ‘Mama Said: A Collection of Wit, Wisdom, and Deep-Fried Humor’ is available in paperback and Kindle download on Amazon.