With KERRI-ANNE MESNER
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Gone are the days when a simple drawing or painting could be given to Mumsie for the annual mother-child celebration.
Now I’m left scratching my head (hoping I don’t scratch too many hairs out) as to what would please the woman who tried to raise me for 16 out of my 28 years.
Everything she wants she has or is out of my budget price range.
One option, which is within my budget, is to cook her dinner, her favourite gift since no one else cooks for her anymore.
But it’s a bit hard to cook her dinner when I live four hours’ drive away.
The second biggest day on the floral calendar is only days away and I still haven’t done a thing about it.
But my mother has let me off the hook for the time being, apparently... I’m still anticipating the disappointment in her voice as I ring on the day, because, as you well know, people tend to say one thing and mean the other.
Many moons ago, not long after I was relieved from the financially struggling university phase, finally fully employed and cash-empowered, I got into trouble for not even sending flowers ... whoopsie daisy.
My excuse that year was I’d gone so many years with permission not to spend money, and I had recently started in the hectic lifestyle of working. Or should I use the excuse that my father’s family doesn’t believe in Christmas and birthdays, let alone Mother’s Day or Father’s Day?
As for my father, he and his best mate have been ringing me up on Mother’s Day since 1999 to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day, despite the fact I do not have children.
That’s one sure way not to make “mum’s” day.
With SAM GROVES
Mother’s Day is that one time of the year that you can’t forget. The second Sunday in May: 9am. Breakfast in bed. Earrings. Chocolate. Cosmetics. But not this year...
The recession is taking hold, money is tight, and living five hours away makes it difficult to drop on by and give a great Mother’s Day gift - along with my washing and shopping list.
So how am I going to make mum’s day? This is a simple one.
Turn up.
I’m going to pack my bags on Friday, fill up my car, and hit the road. I’ll get to Sydney, spend two days doing whatever mum wants - this usually involves movies, dinner, movies, DVDs, breakfast, movies and shopping. And because we share the same taste in films, it’ll be an action-packed marathon of head-crunching Arnie muscle.
Even on a tight budget you can still make mum’s day. I think all she would want is to see me and, as the world’s best son, I’ll be there.
But this is only a short-term fix. Fast-forward 10 years. I’ll be finishing up work, or golf, on a Friday, hopping into the Groves and Associates media empire private helicopter, and landing at the closest Italian imports’ showroom.
This is how I’d make mum’s day - I’d buy her the latest V10 silver sports car, drive it home, place a bow on it, and hand her the keys. I can see mum now, driving down the highway with engine idling at 90km/h. I would be huffing and puffing, frustrated she was going too slow - and then being reminded: “Well I’m not the one with a speeding fine!”.
So since I don’t have a spare $300,000, and K-Rudd doesn’t look to be stimulating me any more, I’ll have to settle with the recession option:
A road trip, bunch of flowers, and a big hug.
The important thing is to not forget mum this Mother’s Day - or the date, which is this Sunday! It’s essential for the blokes to remember that mums are from that scientific group Femalius Dowhatay Sayeous, and if you do forget this year you’ll be reminded of your neglect for years to come!
Next week: Why do we love a rogue?