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Surviving Mothers Day

May 12, 2008 - Summer Wallace-Minger
I am not good at getting presents. I want to know what they are before hand.

As a child, my siblings and I realized if you took a butter knife and sliced the tape on our Christmas presents, we could carefully unfold the paper and reveal the present within before refolding the paper and taping over where we'd made our little surgical incisions.

So, at holidays, I am forbidden to talk presents to the children, lest they slip with some minor detail, and I am not allowed to get into the trunk of the car, which is where my husband "hides" the presents.

I was rather excited to see the very large bag carried out to the car for the trip to my mother's home for a barbecue lunch and present swap. The kids were so thrilled with what they had picked out, they were literally bouncing with excitement.

In fact, my son was so proud and excited, he stripped the bag from the present the moment we walked through the door and into my parents' living room (which is not covered in toys and laundry, those lucky people).

It was a wreath ... pink silk flowers ... a pink silk bow ... gold foil diecut lettters spelling out "mom" in cursive script ...

It was a funeral wreath.

I kid you not: a funeral wreath. The side of the box read "Teters Memorial Flowers" in letters at least an inch and a half high. There was illustrated instructions on the box which showed you how to stake it out by a headstone -- complete with a little illustrated headstone.

I looked at my husband. My brother was snickering, and the corners of my own mouth were twitching.

"Thank you," I told the kids. "It's beautiful. I'll hang it up at work."

"You can hang it on your bedroom door, Mommy," my son said excitedly.

"It says 'Mom,'" my daughter pointed out.

"This is a funeral wreath," I whispered to my husband.

"I didn't know," he said, his eyes widening with horror.

I picked up the bag and started folding it. On the front, the words "On Your Wedding Day" was emblazoned.

I looked at my husband.

"I didn't see that, either," he said, looking abashed.

I smiled at him.

"It's okay," I said. "I love the wreath, and at least I'll get a blog out of it."

And I did.


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This is my Mothers Day present. It is a funeral wreath, but it says "Mom" and it's pink. I also got a gnome.