Everything Happened | vol. 223

So You've Decided Not to Blow Mother's Day

My editors usually circumcise the first two paragraphs of anything I write and it always makes it better, so I will try to get to the point here: Mother’s Day in the U.S. is two weeks away and the mom of your kids deserves an enjoyable Mother’s Day. She might have ideas about what that looks like for her, but it should not be her responsibility to design, plan, or execute. Use your powers of perception to notice what she enjoys, appreciates, and desires. Supply her with some concepts but do not be all sensitive if she rejects your Beautiful Plan or requests modifications. Focus on the goal which is not, “you feel like an unassailably good guy” (which might happen!) but instead “she feels seen and loved.”

My bona fides on the topic: years of reminding men on Twitter every year not to beef it with Mother’s Day for their partner, a bit which eventually landed as the lede of this NYT piece two years ago. Shitpost til you make it, baby!

I find that a lot of my friends’ dude partners struggle with the first mile/last mile problem in executing a pleasant experience. They don’t think it all the way through. They want to make an impressive brunch spread, not realizing it will require them to be sequestered in the kitchen for hours while the mom rots in the other room doing childcare. To say nothing of the mountain of dishes generated! They don’t realize that an emailed gift certificate on the day of lacks a certain amount of theatre. They get mom a bike trailer and announce a family bike ride without checking to see if last summer’s bike helmets still fit the family’s rapidly expanding skulls. They want to get credit for the thought. We want to extend credit for the thought. “It’s the thought that counts,” right? Wrong. Have more thoughts.

Maybe you are new to being curious about the interiority of your loved ones and you could use some ideas to lube the ol’ brain wrinkles. Here are a few thoughts I had on how to spoil (ew so sorry but I’m going to keep saying it because it’s funny) the mom in your life. Make your adjustments and let me know how it goes!

Spoiling the God-Tier Introvert

Give the potato a moment of peace

This is the gift of an entire day alone in the house. There’s more to it than taking the kids and fucking off for the day, although that’s the main thing.

The house needs to be cleaned beforehand so that it’s not a stressful place to hang out. You can do this or hire it out, but it needs to be done on Friday so that it doesn’t get totally undone by the rhythms of family life before Sunday. Saturday night, you’ll do some tidying and decluttering.

Sunday morning, you will efficiently remove the children from the home. Do not make her watch you drag ass getting the kids’ shoes on. Do not make her watch you pack while your kid undoes all your packing. If you do not think you can avoid being a feckless spectacle as you get yourselves off the premises, encourage her to go for a walk and promise to be gone by the time she returns. Oh, maybe light her favorite candle before you go! Now we’re talking.

Level up by leaving her with an assortment of her favorite snacks and beverages. If she’s a bath girlie, you could get one of those bath trays and leave it set up with like, a single joint and an Us Weekly? Just an example that sprang to mind very easily.

Let her know when you plan to return and do not arrive one minute earlier. Do not check in during the day and definitely don’t text her questions. Some people would prefer to be surprised by this experience. Others would want to savor the anticipation and derive enjoyment from planning their day in advance. Use your best judgement!

Spoiling the Suburban Trash Weasel Road Warrior

I know it’s not a weasel

When I was a teen, I worked at a full-service car wash vacuuming out the minivans of suburban moms. “What happened to these people that they could live like this?” I wondered as I tried to work ossified Jolly Ranchers from the floor mats with a putty knife.

Um, so now I know what happened.

This is the gift of detailing the vehicle primarily driven by your partner. You’re going to go on an archaelogical dig through the layers of Dunkin cups and wrong-weather clothing. Trash gets tossed, items that belong in the house are returned to their homes. If she keeps things stocked in the car like wipes, diapers, spare clothes, emergency supplies like water or blankets, you’re going to make sure those items are in appropriate supply. If she doesn’t keep things stocked, maybe you stock some things.

The detailing you can do yourself but you might be absolutely dazzled by what a professional can accomplish. The car was not this spotless when it was new. It is reborn, it is the golden chariot of Helios. It lights and heats the world, it brings joy to all mortals.

Now why not gild the lily with some silly little tchotchkes 😈 Straight men famously hate cute little pieces of tat so this will register correctly as the service to her that it is.

I did not know that there was an entire universe of car decor until I started following one of those unnerving accounts where you watch the disembodied hands of a woman making her fridge look like it’s staged for a magazine shoot. But now I know about car coasters (cute and useful), vent clips (cute but not useful) , and mirror decals (lol).

I mean, tell me this isn’t the most perfect thing you’ve ever seen in your life:

My son

I love him.

Ok maybe the mom in your life is not the “crocheted clown blob with clinical depression” type and that’s ok. Is she a crystals bitch? I find these boba tea vent clips compelling for some reason.

A key part of this gift is expressing to her that you don’t expect the car to stay looking nice. She’s a trash weasel, baby! That’s why you married her.

Spoiling the Person in Need of a Room of One’s Own/Going Woolf Mode
One of my favorite Mother’s Day gifts from Nick was two years ago. I was pregnant, still pretty first-trimester-sick, and Mother’s Day fell on my birthday as it does every few years. An all-around cursed situation for everyone involved.

I’d gone to DC the night before to see friends and arrived back the afternoon of Mother’s Day/my birthday. I wasn’t expecting much fanfare, having fucked off the night before to a fancy hotel, caroused with friends, and enjoyed a decadent brunch at Katie’s house that morning.

Mother’s Day 2021

When I got home, the kids led me to our dilapidated screen porch. It had been tidied of dirty, broken toys so that it no longer resembled an illegal home daycare. There were floor mats, rugs, potted plants, and a electronic keyboard and bench. They’d grabbed the plants from the farmer’s market and the keyboard from the thrift store. I’m sure less than $50 for all of it and maybe less than $30. It was a sight for sore eyes. I’d been talking about playing piano again. I’d been complaining about our nasty porch. They were all so proud and they were right to be because they absolutely nailed it.

Clean the junk drawer. Repurpose the “corner where we pile shit.” Install the sconce that’s been sitting in the corner in a box because you didn’t want her to hire someone to do it because you just knew you could figure it out with Youtube but that was eight months ago. Do it while the kids are asleep. Take PTO and do it while she’s at work.

Ask her if the flower she said was her favorite flower ten years ago when you met is still her favorite flower, or if she just panicked when you asked and said the first thing that came to mind and she’s regretted it ever since. Notice how things are different from how they used to be. Notice which things are the same. Notice everything you can, and go to bed Sunday night. Wake up on Monday and keep noticing things.

yr mate,
Evie
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