Nothing quite says “Thanks Mom” like a giant fruit peacock.
Screw brunch.
Seriously, don’t you think you’re pulling a fast one on your Mom by taking her out for brunch? First of all, there’s little or no effort put by YOU personally into the meal. Secondly, by making it the morning meal, it’s like you’re trying to “get it over with” so that you can finish your Sunday as you wish.
Plus, what do you get with brunch? Eggs? Pancakes? Fruit and whip cream? Yawn. When you’re celebrating your birthday, do you stand up and shout “Hey, let’s go out for brunch”?
For the woman who has spent countless hours of her life pondering how to make a new and surprising meal from chicken: Make her dinner. Make her something special, something expensive with fresh ingredients you actually have to work to find. And clean everything up.
For the woman who acknowledged her lack of culinary talent and made the Chinese take-out restaurant on the corner very rich: Take her out for dinner. Go somewhere she would think was way too expensive, give her the opportunity to wear nice shoes.
As for gifts, flowers and perfume are so blah. What do they say about the hours she spent in cold hockey arenas at 5 am? What do they say about the trust she bestowed upon you the first time she let you run around The State Fair with your friends? What do they say about every time she slipped you the last twenty bucks in her wallet? Nothing, other than “You’ve raised an unoriginal kid”.
Obviously, every Mom is different, and what one might truly appreciate, another will suffer silently. But you might consider finding something she loves, and upgrading it.
No clothes, but maybe a beautiful apron for the cook.
Never a vaccuum, but maybe some aroma therapy for the neat freak.
Not just an hour away from the house, but a whole day.
Forget cooking classes, hire her a chef for a week.
A box of chocolates from SuperAmerica is dirt compared to these.
Upgrade her sneeky-peek.
Cheese. For a year. At least that’s what I want.
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