Need some Mother’s Day gift inspiration? We’re asking our contributing editors the three things they want (and the one thing they can’t actually buy). Here’s what Adina Kay-Gross is hoping for this year
Though I swore I wouldn’t be, I have become one of those moms with balled up tissues and loose change falling out of her pockets. I reach in to pay for a coffee and 10 old ATM receipts flutter to the ground. An ancient raisin tumbles from my wallet and hits the Starbucks counter just so. I need one of these bags to sling effortlessly across my bod. Then, I will flip my perfectly coiffed hair, grab my coffee and my two neat and quiet toddlers, and flash a winning smile at all who stand in my way.
I didn’t make a baby book for my girls. I don’t have a decent picture of myself that was taken more recently than 2011 (the one attached here is from 2010. And it’s not that decent). I snap hundreds of photos of the girls every month but those pics live on my iPhone. I have precious sepia-toned old family photos just screaming for display. I need someone to come and organize all of this for me. I am sensing an organizational trend here. Please send help with a label-maker.
This is a chapter book aimed at early elementary aged kids, so definitely not something my 2-year-old twins are ready for. But I’d like to tuck it away on their bookshelf and just hope the message rubs off on them by virtue of its presence. Dani, the main character in this book, deals with some tough stuff, but she’s an optimistic little girl who counts her blessings before bed. As the New York Times reviewer claims, this book is about “children’s natural and learned resilience [and] the incredible bouncing back that never ceases to surprise their worn-down parents.” Come to think of it, I want two copies.
The one thing I want for Mother’s Day that you can’t actually buy:
A magic button that would allow me to freeze moments in time. I don’t want to mess with the universe or with anyone’s perfectly allotted 24 hours. I just want this button to press when absolutely necessary–like when I look up on a Saturday morning around 9:30 and spy over the rim of my coffee cup that the girls are playing quietly, not biting each other, engrossed in their own worlds. I’d press the button right then and call everything to a halt so that we could just enjoy the peace for a moment longer, take a deep breath, and man up for the inevitable chaos that lays in wait. Everything goes too fast. I want my very own pause button. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind a rewind every once in a while, too.
*By purchasing any of the above items through Amazon, a portion of the proceeds will go to support our work at Kveller. It’s a Mother’s Day mitzvah!*