I don’t know how it is in your family, but holidays like Mother’s Day (Christmas, Valentines day, birthdays, Veteran’s Day, etc) are usually the cause of stress and there will probably be tears and a fight at some point. This is inevitable it seems as these fucking holidays are so full of pressure to be perfect that no human family could possibly live up to them.

I blame the jewelry people and the card people.

And yet I expect my husband not to give me something like this:

Which is what I got last year. In “buff.”

That’s it. Nothing else. Just the bra.

Close your mouth.

In his defense it was the correct style and size.

When my sister-in-law called to wish me happy Mother’s Day and find out what her dear brother did for me that was special and I told her about the bra she burst into hysterical laughter because she’s a good sister and that’s what siblings do when the other one fucks up royally. And now she calls him “bra giver.”

And we got into an epic fight over it and he was hurt because he thought he picked the perfect gift and he tried, really he did, but he fell short and I was hurt because he should have known better and if he really loved me he would have known that the minimum acceptable gift would have been the bra plus matching panty.

At. least.

So there were tears. And there was shouting. And things became airborne. Particularly a bra.

But Internets, I tried something new this year and I decided to just tell him what I wanted instead of making him guess and setting both of us up for another bad day.

So I said to get a babysitter for Saturday night,

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(That’s my mom. Isn’t she cute?)

and make dinner reservations at The Trattoria Romana, a place with cloth napkins,

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and to buy me too many of these so that I could be loud and inappropriate with the wait staff,

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and for him to have vodka tonics,

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and for me to have salmon with lobster meat on top to eat,

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and for him to have linguini with clam sauce,

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and I told him to buy me this Weeping Cherry tree,

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and then plant it for me.

And my mother bought me 2 Forsythias and a Lilac tree to go along with it.

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So it was a wonderful Mother’s Day this year and I suppose every day is Mother’s day for me in a way because Mister does nice things for me all the time. He makes my coffee in the morning, he holds my hair while I vomit Cosmopolitan gives me back rubs, and tells me every day that I’m a MILF.

So I’ll forgive him for past gift douchery.

I hope all you MILFS had a great Mother’s Day yesterday and I call you MILFS because I know that only MILFS read this blog and if you don’t know what a MILF is you probably aren’t one so go away.

I kid.

Oh, and hey! Speaking of MILFs Lynne gave me the keys to her blog while she’s away on vacation. I say we go over there, find her toothbrush, and take pictures of us cleaning the toilets with it.

Let’s GO!

(I’m actually funnier over there than I am here, if that’s even possible.)