The Definitive Mother's Day Anti Gift Guide

There are loads of bloggers out there who are more rich and posh than I am who will tell you all the things you could buy for your mama/baby mama for Mother's Day. I will tell you what not to get her, beyond the standard no-no's of shapewear, cleaning products, or a Norelco beard trimmer with your name on it.

1. The Cast Iron Oyster Grill Pan from Sur La Table. No one needs this. Unless your mom summers in the Hamptons. Or is a grill-servant for someone who summers in the Hamptons. Or needs something large and heavy to defend herself with if she finds herself hiding from an intruder in the pantry under the shelf where she keeps cookware she never uses.

The epitome of over-specialization.

2. A side of beef. 320 pounds of it! For only $1329 (plus tax) you can supply your mother with enough meat to feed the panther you got her for Mother's Day last year! Oh wait, you didn't get her a panther? Then don't buy her this much beef.

Watch the video. Too much meat to even be captured by a photo!

3. A fur-covered exercise ball chair. No grown woman should have to subject her office space to something that looks like it was upholstered in Furby-hide. I don't care how swanky PB Teen is (I can only ever think of "Peanut Butter Teen" when I read this), your mom doesn't (shouldn't) want it! The woman wants some back support while she browses Pinterest writes her momoirs. On a different note, wouldn't it be so awesome to have enough disposable income to build a special room in your house that you would fill with these fur balls? In a huge range of sizes? I'm thinking anywhere from small, dodgeball-sizes to maybe a few with 12-foot diameters. You could rent the room out for parties. I would go to a fur ball party. There would also be a make-your-own Italian soda bar.

The aqua one was formerly an extra on Sesame Street.

4. Wallace and Gromit: The Wrong Trousers. Only because you should get the entire collection! Don't cheap out on your mom!

5. An all-expenses-paid trip to Cawker City, Kansas to see the biggest ball of twine in the United States. Unless the trip is scheduled for August during the city "Twine-a-thon" when more twine is added to the ball. That could be really intense.

It's not even a ball!

Don't take this the wrong way, but wouldn't that be a great place to hide a dead body? You'd have to do some initial wrapping, of course, but every year during the Twine-a-thon, the other Cawker City citizens would unwittingly do their part to make sure no one every discovered your twine-mummy. Also, if anyone ever suspected that the corpse of grumpy old, ironically-named Mr. Love (the victim, murdered during a botched robbery when you were attempting to steal his prize piece of beef jerky that looks like Ryan Gosling) was within the twine ball, there would be a city-wide outcry at the thought of cutting the ball apart to confirm suspicions. Dibs on this plot idea. I'm going to title the book Love Entwined.

On a sentimental note, happy early Mother's Day to my own dear mother. She's creative, generous, hilarious, and a mean shot with a black powder rifle. Maybe we do have some business in Cawker City ...

Right down the middle!

Best/worst thing you ever received/gave for Mother's Day?

 

Ruby the Fluffy

Growing up, I was never much of a "girly-girl." I had one short-lived foray into dance lessons (tap--insanely boring and lacking the competitive excitement I found in soccer), loathed any clothes with ruffles or bows, and was once mistaken for a boy as I entered the girls' bathroom because my hair was cut pixie-short. I'd probably still be wearing boys' cargo shorts if I hadn't discovered the superior comfort of yoga pants (their gender-normativeness is just a bonus).

But having a little daughter and dressing her up in cute clothes is ridiculously fun. When she's old enough to tell me her preferences, I'll respect them (to a point to be debated on, I'm sure), but until then, RUFFLES. Not the potato chip, people, the fluffy kind.

My friend Olya is one of the most entrepreneurial people I know. One of her several business endeavors is running an online shop selling these gloriously fluffy rompers (love that word! Romp around little baby, romp!!) and tutus for babies. Olya gave Ruby this little peacock outfit to frolic around in right before Christmas (not posting these pics until now because ... three kids=zombie mother emoji).

I dressed her up, got out my professional mother camera, and learned that photographing toddlers is a circus. A circus that is on fire. Metaphorically.

I love Ruby's little side-eye in this one. She kind of looks like a criminal. "If you try to adjust this hair bow I will cut you."

Posing demurely by the Christmas tree.

Channelling the spirit of Cosette in this shot.

Then things got a little hairy. Ruby was tired of modeling and demanded to be naked.

We needed a replacement model ...

"Fertile Elizabethan Pharoah"

Then Graham channelled his inner Zoolander (who else is dying for Zoolander 2?? Fun fact: Nathan told me he loved me for the first time while we were watching Zoolander).

The camera loves Graham.

I'm so excited to have such a goofball to keep me company.

I love having fluffy, fun, costume props around for my kids to play with. Some of my favorite memories as a kid are of dressing up (as detectives, orphans, fortune-tellers, pioneers, etc.). These adorable pettiskirts are fluffy and fun. It's like you are wearing a cupcake. I love them.

Gravitas.

Clinging to the edge of high fashion.

Olya's shop can be found on Facebook, Etsy, or at Mamaloni.com. Check them out!