Mommy Power, Activate! … Activate! … Uh …

Mr. Embee maimed himself making me happy. He’s a good man.

The Mr. arranged for my family to come over for a birthday picnic. This was after making sure Sally provided the requisite homemade birthday card, a present I wanted, and dutifully singing happy birthday to me over cake. It was very sweet and proof that in a mere 6.5 years, you too can train your husband to remember a calendar date and plan ahead for it. I’m going to have my technique patented.

Anyway, so he planned this picnic and was making his delicious guacamole. I was packing the picnic basket when I heard the knife drop and a sharp sucking in of air. I knew right then what had happened. I looked up. Another thing about living with someone for 6.5 years: You know by mere changes in electrons around them when things are serious. I don’t remember what was said but it was enough to alarm Sally, who climbed halfway up the stairs and stayed there. That’s where she goes when things are serious, like the time she realized our library system discriminates against the illiterate or when I tell her that No, her suitcase cannot ‘live’ in the family room in the event that she needs to travel suddenly.

Shhh . . . it's watching us. Photo: Muffet/Flickr

Whenever the Mr. released pressure from his right index finger, it bled. So like a good techie, he tells me to get online and figure out when a person needs stitches. A few minutes later it becomes clear — I’m going to need to view the wound. I’m not worried. I’m a mom. My mommy power makes me invincible — no silly scratch is going to freak me out.

Um . . . Turns out mommy power doesn’t work so well when we’re not dealing with our own children. Everyone in the house was pretty calm until Super Mom here yelled “HOLY COW, Go to the emergency room NOW! OH MY GOD! That is HORRIBLE! That will NEVER heal!”

Two stitches. It’s healing fine. But it will probably leave a scar and he’ll never forget my birthday. That’s right, patented techniques, baby.

It’s a Gift

Sometimes your child will decide to make you a gift. Once in a blue moon it’ll go really well. The other times? Well, you’ve seen the ants carry off the Fruit Loop necklaces. In just three years I’ve built up a decent collection of handmade gifts. Some of them are beautiful paintings. Others are a single green line on a paper, which I am instructed to “take to work and show your friends.” But there are a few gifts that really stand out. . . .

The perfect coffee mug. Sally made me this for no reason other than that I’m a great mom and she loves me. Oh wait, that was in my dreams. She made it because Caillou did so for his mom and we must live out–with correct script lines–every situation we see on television. Still, honestly, I love it. Favorite gift yet.

For the record, she wanted to paint it entirely black. Mr. Embee encouraged the use of colors. Though, let’s be honest, a black cup would have better described my mood most mornings.

I don’t always have a tulip with my coffee. Just on Thursdays.

The key chain. You were thinking jump rope? Or a 007 device to strangle your nemesis? Something with which to create welts on your own thighs as you walk as quickly as possible to achieve all your errands before daycare pickup? Or a cute little lash to snap your significant other with as he leaves for work? It works well for all of that. It’s the Swiss Army knife of key chains. Just watch out you don’t put your eye out.

The portrait. Oh that’s right. It’s ME. At first I was pretty insulted, but then I thought about how Sally usually sees me: staring down at her, with flat hair, my head ready to explode from frustration, wondering when exactly I went crazy, and trying to cover it all with a smile. So actually, this portrait is pretty accurate. And she toned down my nose, so that’s nice. Totally going to use this as my Facebook profile picture.

For Mother’s Day I Got You This Water Buffalo

So I read this USA Today story about Mother’s Day gift ideas that give back. I took it as a suggestion that in lieu of jewelry or flowers or whatever it was you were planning on getting at 11:59 p.m. the night before, you instead give a gift of, say, a mosquito net for a family in Africa in my name. I’m supposed to melt with compassion and pride that my child has thought of others instead of me, and think it’s the greatest Mother’s Day gift ever.

jcarillet/iStockphoto

Apparently I’m the worst person on Earth, because my initial, gut reaction was: WHAT?! All I do is GIVE to you family people, what with your constant need for food, shelter, love, Band-Aids, someone to get the booger off your finger — and on the one day you are supposed to think about ME for a change, you get somebody else a gift?!

I know, I suck. But you thought it too, didn’t you? Of course you did. Because it’s our DAY.

I told Mr. Embee about my musings on this topic and he worried that readers might hunt me down if I reveal how selfish I am. Bless his heart. So I’m asking, please don’t hunt me down, because if I’m maimed or killed, it’ll be harder to keep the blog going. Also, I slept on it and had some further thoughts. And guess what? Turns out I’m not a total jerk.

I’m not into huge gifts for Mother’s Day. I do not expect jewels on any Sunday in May. I also would not reject them, but you see what I’m saying. I truly love “activity” gifts. I want to spend time with my husband and child, much as that may shock you all. (Side note: Dads, you are required to make sure the Baby Mama is regaled on Mother’s Day. Don’t pull that “but you’re not MY mom” thing. When your kids are old enough to take matters into their own hands, they should, but you still need to do something for the moms in your life. I’m not going to say it’s the price of admission, but hey, a girl’s gotta feel loved. I digress.) Anyway really, please, don’t spend a bunch of money — amuse us. Take us on a picnic, bring us breakfast in bed, offer to change every diaper that day. Whatever. Make it a day where mom either gets to do something she really enjoys and/or gets out of something she hates. To us, that says you thought about the mom, and to an entire class of people for whom ‘taking care of myself’ equals tossing back a gummy vitamin, that kind of consideration really does mean a lot. Those vitamins are good, though.

Then I thought about USA Today even more. And I realized it’s a genius plan for the kids/dads out there who are intellectually incapable of planning anything in advance. Imagine with me: It’s Sunday morning. Mom comes downstairs. You realize you have completely failed. You didn’t even know Mother’s Day was in the spring. Hop on the computer, click a few buttons, and Ta-dah! “Happy Mother’s Day, honey. I was just about to make you an omelet. After I do the dishes and dress the kids, we’ll go on a relaxing family walk. Oh, and I’ve been thinking a lot about how important women are to the health and well-being of their families — nay, the world — and I provided a year of schooling for an Afghan girl in your name.”

Admission granted, hot stuff!

Okay, so I’m a little bit of a jerk still. But I’m a jerk with a soft spot, so I went to a bunch of the sites and saw all the adorable kids hugging their llamas and excited to eat mush, and my heart absolutely caved in. So in honor of all the moms who read this blog, I provided a safe birthing kit to a refugee mom (the water buffalo are a little beyond my budget). Somewhere in a war-torn country, the International Rescue Committee is going to bring a woman a kit, including blankets and clothes for her newborn, so that she and the baby can get a decent start. USA Today was right: I feel all warm inside, and I don’t think it’s the Bailey’s in my coffee. Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.

I still want a present.

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In all seriousness, lots of moms are going through the stuff of nightmares this year. I hope many families will consider helping someone less fortunate out. The USA Today story has links to several reputable organizations that make it easy to donate. Chem ‘em out. And don’t stalk me.