It’s a daunting task to buy a Mother’s Day gift. My mother is a woman who fed me, clothed me, put me through one overpriced educational institution after another, and tolerated me through my teenage years when sighing and saying, “This sucks,” was the most communication I’d offer. Clearly I should be forging her a medal—and encrusting it with an erector set of diamonds, but giant gemstones aren’t really in my budget. Luckily, my mother also taught me to be a champion shopper. And this year I’m putting those teachings to good use to shop for my mom, and all the other moms in my life.
The Cheerleader Mom
My mother was always the one rah-rah-ing from the sidelines at soccer practice, declaring my finger painting to be the stuff of Seurat, and encouraging my backyard gymnastics, crooked crocheting, and disco roller-skating. If there’s one person solidly in my corner, it would be her, backing my every fanciful hobby, even now. But my mom has her own dreams in life, and now I’d like to wave the pom-poms for her to get out there and have some adventures. That’s why I’m getting her a copy of Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Eat, Pray, Love. In her biography, Gilbert jumps from Italy to India to Indonesia shucking her old life and embracing new things: Italian pasta, Ashram meditation, and finally, an unexpected romance. This is the food of inspiration. I plan on giving it to my mother with the simple inscription, “Go, Mom, GO!”
The Finer-Things-in-Life Mom
There’s a scene in the movie Auntie Mame, where a young boy comes to New York to find his aunt and new guardian in the middle of a raging party where the champagne is free-flowing and the caviar is served by the troughful. In her household, Auntie Mame always brought out the good china, and not only did she eat off it every day, she probably licked the plate. This reminds me of my great aunt. She is a woman of impeccable taste, with the linens to match, but nothing is ever so precious that it shouldn’t be enjoyed. I’d love to get her this elegant Tiffany & Co. white woven platter. I know she won’t squirrel it away in a cabinet, but proudly display it and use it to serve canapés at impromptu gatherings. And if it breaks, well, as Auntie Mame would probably say, “That’s why man invented super glue.”
