The Gift Return of the Prodigal Son

I am a terrible son. I am an only child, my parents were born on the same day. I do not know when their birthday is, other than in the month of February. Never have. Their anniversary, May…maybe.

I do not have DNR power of attorney for my parents.

My wife left a voice message saying she is getting cards for mother’s day should she pick one up for my Mother. Duh. Half the reason men get married is to alleviate the responsibility of buying gifts, sending cards, in general remembering things that they are supposed to, however in my case this takes on new dimension as I simply never did any of those things anyway. Marriage by default should not just allay my previously shirked responsibilities as a son…in theory it will make me better.

My wife calls to follow-up on this as I have forgotten to call her back about it. Like I said, in theory. I say of course get a card---thinking we are done. She goes on to ask if I have just decided to send flowers and if so have I already done that online. Puzzled and sensing this is a rapidly deteriorating, I say no.

She says, “Should I,” drawing out the “I” with an upward lilt, “look for something for her.”

Sweaty now and unsure of how to respond I say, “Ahhhhh, yes”

She fires back, “OK, then would she like stationary, does she journal, artisan-crafted jewelry is always nice……


“artisan-crafted Jewelry,” I yell in some combination of auction and multiple choice response….”about $30 worth” this is good I have made a decisive call, I am involved, I care.

“Well there’s nothing for $30…” she says.

Now mind you I am working, not doing anything important because most jobs today are, as observed by children, basically writing stuff, emailing and talking on the phone-pretty much what they do. What the children do not understand is that this is to solve problems and create opportunities in a bi-directional exchange of value. So I am focused--as much as my ADHD addled brain can be.

This gets me thinking how much I love those ads for ADHD from a few years ago talk about a solution looking for a problem. The low, serious voice over guy- “Have you ever been watching television and suddenly changed the channel. Have you ever had a thought in your head and out of nowhere another thought enters. You could be one of millions of people suffering…..” This while an image of a woman in a meeting is rubbing her forehead looking perplexed and/or agitated.

Jeez I have been watching TV and suddenly changed the channel and I have been thinking one thing and then had another thought enter my mind, and I assume I have rubbed my head while being both perplexed and agitated at a big whole heck of a lot of meetings. Surely this indicates I need amphetamines to conquer this debilitating malady.

How is it possible to air that ad. Seriously….and who falls for it, pausing I realize I have a half dozen friends on the stuff—who rave about it. Note to self: check strike price on Novartis and make doctor’s appt.

“Focus!” my wife yells as she tells me there is nothing for $30. In my desperate desire to get back to whatever problem solving or opportunity creating thing I am wholly engrossed by I say,

“It doesn’t matter, Jesus Christ Marcie it just doesn’t matter, get whatever you think is right, I am a terrible son I have never purchased a mother’s day gift for her, ever. No matter what it is she will know you bought it so pick something you want to get her.”

“OK”, my wife says slowly in a flat tone that indicates this spewed confessional drivel just revealed more to her about me than the past 2.5 years we have spent together ever could have. Worse, she is clearly confused as she simultaneously pities and hates me because she sees my self absorption runs so pathologically deep that it extends to the very core of my being. Not just in the cute edgy guy way she initially found sexy believing I would eventually become a great father, provider and all around good man. No, the seriously messed up way that makes her feel sorry for me and then for herself for marrying me which then makes her resent me because she is now stuck with me. But this is progress: hatred, pity, and resentment, the traditional places where all familial gift buying begins.

I was graced several hours later with a box containing the ugliest earrings I have ever seen made from something close to but not exactly fishing tackle and some unidentifiable baby blue rock thing. God-awful. This presented my next serious quandary, now there are a lot of factors at play here like, does she actually think my mother will like baby blue mystery substrate fishing tackle earrings or is she trying to teach me something. This for a recently married man is a quagmire, a proving ground, because it brings into play the wife/mother first loyalty thing. Now if my wife actually thinks my mother will like these heinous, made by one of god’s children, craft objects I need to intervene quickly and make clear what does and does not constitute an acceptable gift to my mother. If I do not we open the door to truckloads of craft objects made by hippies and “special” people. On the other hand if my wife is taking me to task and saying you need to man-up here and be a better son and get your mother a real gift because you should be ashamed of this piece of crap-what is the correct response. This is as tough a test as can be devised.

In life I have often heard it said, and believe to be true, that the right thing to do is the harder thing to do. I of course knowing the stakes took the path of least resistance, the low road perhaps. I let it ride. The shameful earrings were mailed out for the contrived holiday and received without so much as a blip. The non-acknowledgment is my mother’s not so subtle way of saying it is better to not give than to give crap my loving son lest ye wife do thine bidding. I do not think it was a test on my wife’s part. All this however made me recognize my responsibility and in the future will be more mindful, thoughtful and involved. I will be a better son-at least in theory.

See marriage is making me better.