Here’s a story for those who need a last minute Mother’s Day gift tip.
“Hi, I’m Ken and I’m a Gift-Procrastinist.”
“Hi Ken. Please share with the group.” Larry, the support group leader, requested.
“Well… “ Ken’s feet tapped the floor and his head lowered. “It wasn’t always like this. I used to have a lot more time to create gifts for my family. They were well planned and amazing. But somewhere around the time I started driving, life just got – too fast. Planning and creating gifts got too hard. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I… I…”
“Go ahead Ken. You can tell us. It’s safe here.” Larry prodded.
“Okay. Here it goes. I was 18. It was Christmas Eve and I had nothing. So I went to the only place open at 5 p.m., the gas station. And I bought a dog ornament.”
“No, you didn’t!” Members of the group exclaimed.
“Yes… I did and I’m a humiliation to all gift-givers now.” Ken’s head rose, revealing a face so moist that it reflected room light.
“This condition worsened over the years and to compound the problem… Irony brought me the Gift Gauntlet. I have 3 kids’ birthdays, my wife’s birthday, Christmas, V-Day, and our Anniversary over a 90-day period! And after I barely survive that, Mother’s Day seems to come back two months later in May.” Ken paused, his knuckles reddened. “May! Curse you Hallmark! It’s Thursday and I’ve got JACK!”
“We understand Ken. Keep going. Your healing is almost complete.”
Ken perked up. “There were a few bright spots over my adult years where my creative genius took control. I mean, ask my wife about the engagement ring and the ceremony that took me 3 months to plan. Ask my mom about the ‘Dear Mom’ Box.”
Jimmy cut in. “Ken, I can’t take it. I’m a Gift-Procrastinist too. I didn’t do ANYTHING for Mother’s Day either. Can you please tell us about the ‘Dear Mom’ Box?”
Each member of the group leaned forward in their chairs and nodded.
[divider style=’full’]“I was a 24-year-old Big Shot engineer with General Electric. My first real job after Penn State. I finally junked my duct-taped Ford Tempo for the car of my dreams – a brand new 2001 Mitsubishi Montero Sport XS. It was breathtaking, fully loaded with only a $486 monthly payment. Yup, I was big-time as a big spender. In fact, only a few months prior I made the Big Commitment for Christmas to my then-girlfriend Teresa. She was expecting a ring. Her family was expecting me to give her a ring. I, in all my wisdom, gave Teresa a… a cell phone. It was like a hundred bucks and in 2001, these were our first cell phones ever. I was giving her 100% access to me wherever I went. What commitment could be bigger than that? Well, she thought differently and so did her parents.”
The group exhaled in unison.
Ken continued. “Mother’s Day was a month away and I wanted to make a splash. I paced the mall for hours. I was willing to charge anything to my impressive $5,000 line of credit. However, store after store revealed nothing meaningful. I got discouraged. What could I do? My Mom was 16 when she had me. She sacrificed so much to raise me as a single mom. She made the real Big Commitment. Then it hit me.
[pullquote align=”normal”]The gifts mom likes best are the ones you spend time on, not money. [/pullquote]
A flash of brilliance struck and the word BOX formed in my mind. But not just any box. A chest with a lock on the front. It would be covered in fabric and engraved, maybe embroidered with a simple message…
Dear Mom,
I wanted to give you this box to store your greatest memories from your children and future grandchildren. Over the years, I have created tons of pictures and crafts for you. And my siblings still do. Now you can put it all in one place. Whenever you want to go down memory lane, just go open your box. It’s like a giant scrapbook.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Love Kenny
With victory so close, I switched gears and went to all the box stores and craft stores. I found it and went to work. Thankfully, my cell phone toting girlfriend pulled off the Martha Stewart and embroidered on the top of the box.” Ken exhaled. “I gotta say. It was a smash hit with my mom. I’m not 24 anymore. My siblings aren’t 5, 7, 9, and 11 anymore. But I can tell you this… My prediction came true. That box is full of memories from my mom’s 5 kids and 4 grandkids and she still loves going to the ‘Dear Mom’ Box.”
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Larry stood, wiped away his tears, followed by Jimmy and every other emotional member of the group.
“What are you going to give this year?” Jimmy asked.
“Well, I’ve written letters to my wife and mom. Could I read them to you?”
“Absolutely.” Larry chimed, speaking on behalf of everyone.
“Here it goes…” Ken wiped his face with his sleeve, cleared his throat, and began reading.
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Dear Mom,
You have always encouraged me, built me up, told me that I could accomplish anything. You would always tell me at bedtime, “You won’t know how much I love you until you have a son of your own.” You sacrificed so much of your teens and 20’s to raise me. I can’t imagine how hard it was for you. You put me above all else and never made me feel anything but loved. I never knew the struggles you dealt with, the pain of a broken marriage to my dad, the money problems, the struggle to graduate high school and college. These early years were magical for me. I loved spending time with you. We were best friends.
You endured and eventually found your true love in Paul. At 10-years-old, I remember how happy you were in a wedding dress while I wore that despicable pink shirt you made me wear. Just kidding, sort of. The next 8 years were just as amazing because you gave me what I always wanted – siblings. Being an only child was fine. I never knew any better and it allowed us to have so much time together. But having 4 siblings in my teens was awesome. I loved being the babysitter all of those summer days when you went to work. I loved coming home from school with a full house of kids. Those years were so memorable.
I know our relationship has changed over time. We’re still close, but you told me something a few weeks ago that shocked me. After our first 3 hour phone call in years, I said. “Mom, I feel so connected to you. I’m glad we did this.”
You replied. “This is the first time you opened up to me.”
I paused thoughtfully. “Seriously? What about when I was a kid?”
“Nope. You always held things in.”
Mom, I had no idea that I was so stinkin’ bottled up. I’m sorry that I robbed you of many more great conversations as a boy and young man. I didn’t realize I was doing it. But I won’t anymore. Life is too short. The irony is that my son does the same to his mother. In fact, do you know what I tell him at bedtime? I say this…
“You won’t know how much I love you until you have kids of your own.”
Now check out the bottom of this post and read the comments from your other kids including your daughter-in-law. As your oldest, I have once again assembled the memories and placed them RIGHT HERE in this new-and-improved Virtual “Dear Mom” Box.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Your ever-loving son, Kenny
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Dear Teresa,
First of all, thank you for allowing me to write my Mom’s letter first. You are no less important. You’re my wife, my gift, my best friend, my love. You gave me 4 incredible kids. And that’s what this letter is about. It’s not a love letter; It’s a gratitude letter.
Right now, I’m remembering our first walk on the beach and what we talked about. You were 17 and I was 21. We talked about our past pains and future desires. As I picture what we looked like, how young we were, how simple life really was then, I’m struck with this thought. “Could I have imagined then, that in 18 years, we’d be married with 4 kids?” I know it’s a silly thought, but my brain works like that. I’m a time-traveler. I go back to the past and I envision the future, all the time. And you don’t judge me. You encourage me and support the crazy ideas that I seem to come up with every day.
Thank you for that walk on the beach. Thank you for saying yes and choosing to spend the rest of your life with me. Thank you for giving me those 4 incredible kids. Thank you for supporting my dreams and allowing me to time-travel. Lastly, thank you for constantly shifting, adjusting, and improving to become such an outstanding mother.
Our kids have it good. Their futures are bright.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Your ever-loving husband, Ken
