Please take a moment to pity the poor mother who wants something special for Mother's Day and has to resort to the usual old tricks of leaving magazine ads around the house or turning up the volume and coughing "I'd like that" during commercials.
I'm really lucky, since I can just forget subtle and use this, a convenient public forum, to just lay it on the line for my four wonderful, attentive children. No guessing, no imagination required: just basic reading.
Conveniently, I don't want jewelry from a special store, nor do I crave a car with a red bow on top.
Thankfully, what I want is simple to put together, and inexpensive to produce. You kids have all the tools you need to put it together today, if you'd like.
Unfortunately, doing this for me does require that you all sit in the same place, at the same time, and at least pretend that you're not trying to clobber each other for at least 15 minutes. Barring that, please just make sure there's no permanent evidence of anything worse than a misdemeanor.
Remember how you did this for your dad for Father's Day 12 years ago? He loved it so! Don't you love your mother as much as you love your dad?
Evidently, you do. And I'm so grateful for that.
Obviously, I love you, as evidenced by all the time I spent in labor with each of you when you were born. Have I mentioned how big your heads were?
Really big, they were. As in: record-breaking honeydews. Not that I'm trying to guilt you into anything.
I'm just hoping that those big heads mean you're all very, very perceptive.
Quash any thoughts of breakfast in bed, while you're pondering. Crumbs in my sheets aren't really my thing.
Unfortunately, I have reason to think that, even after all this, I fear I might not receive the small item my heart desires the most. I've come right out and asked before, but still no cigar.
I do not, for the record, want a cigar.
Though if I take up smoking, you'll be the first to hear about it. Or smell it.
Consider it a given, though, that what I want is a simple, beautiful and practical gift.
One of you, at least, understands the value of a practical gift. I actually have it in writing from you (and you know who you are) that you would quit making fun of me for asking for a vacuum cleaner for my birthday.
Oh, I don't want a vacuum cleaner this year. Though it would be nice to get one to replace the one that got broken when Someone Who Shall Remain Nameless tried to pick up nails with it.
Kirby makes a nice unit. But that's completely beside the point.
I think we're set now. If you haven't gotten it by now, you never will. And I never will.
No pressure though. Just know that no gift on the planet can provide the joy I would get from having proof that you were all together, happy to see each other, and happy to see me, and for me to be able to enjoy it for years to come.
Get the picture? I sure hope I do!!!
Ahwatukee Foothills resident Elizabeth Evans can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Her column appears monthly.