Every year it’s a waiting game to see whether Hepcat remembers to get me a Mother’s Day card and gift.  I know he hates the concept. Hallmark holiday and all that.  And it’s not like he sends a card to his mother (I send a card to his mother). Still, it BUGS the hell out of me when he forgets and I just ADORE it when he remembers. Same goes with VALENTINE’S DAY.

This year he’s a bit distracted. NEW JOB. Lots of responsibility. He’s having an MRI for his shoulder pain. His mother is in town. Lots of distractions — so what else is new? IMO (In my opinion) that’s one lousy excuse.

Sometimes he’s sneaky. He remembers and he just SHOCKS me with a gift. A quick jaunt to The Clay Pot usually does the trick. Him and every other guy in da neighborhood. It’s the Park Slope pre-Mother’s Day ritual. Check it out: Lines of anguished men and women (this is Park Slope, afterall) looking for gifts for their wives.

For Mother’s Day they are often accompanied by their children. On Valentine’s Day, the stand ALONE. Sweating. Anxious. Fearful. Uncertain…

Hepcat likes to live dangerously. Often, he remembers late on the Saturday before Mother’s Day. I see him suddenly bolt up from his computer. "Shit, I gotta go," he says looking at his watch and searching for his shoes.

Sometimes it’s too late. Even I know that the Clay Pot is already closed.  Othertimes, he makes it just in time…

Sometimes I wonder: What’s the BIG DEAL. Can’t he plan ahead, pick something up a few days, even a week before? But, no. And I’m SO EASY. I love books and CDs (shhhh, my secret addiction). Hepcat, Community Books is open until at least 9 p.m. on Saturday night. There’s always Barnes and Noble in an utter emergency. Sound Track is open Saturday and Sunday. Music Matters is open pretty late on Saturday nights.

But I can’t buy my own gift. Or should I. Why is it so important that he remembers, that he gets it, that he GETS it.  I know, I know, it’s the thought that counts. So c’mon: THOUGHT, PLEASE. THOUGHT.

Maybe Mother’s Day should be a gift to oneself…forget about them (OSFO always remembers, Teen Spirit is getting like his dad…)

A gift to me: Plane tickets to Paris, a weekend away to write, a bottle of Kate Spade perfume, a pair of Miu Miu sunglasses, little diamond stud earrings…where’s my credit card…