Happy Mother’s Day To My Wife — You Deserve So Much More Than Any Crappy Thing I’ll Buy You At Target

Because a card can only say so much.

By Tom Burns — Written on Apr 24, 2018

Photo: courtesy of the author

As an oblivious husband, you have no idea how much I appreciate Mother’s Day. Yes, it can be a pain, and yes, I have been one of those sad ,desperate men stalking the greeting card aisles of CVS, trying to find a non-cheesy way to express my gratitude at the last possible second, but even with all that, Mother’s Day is still an important holiday to me.

Because my wife gave birth to our daughter. And the best happy Mother's Day to my wife is to appreciate that.

That shouldn’t be a particularly revolutionary statement. I live with the reality of that moment every day of my life, but... damn. That happened. That seismic, earth-shattering event HAPPENED in my life and I don’t think I’ve ever been the same.

And then, not only did my wife give birth to my daughter, she raised her. I mean, I help. I help a lot. But my badass wife brought a life into this world and then taught me by example how to nurture, support, and defend our daughter in ways I might never fully appreciate.

Appreciation — THAT is why I love Mother’s Day. Because life is hard and exhausting and I forget. I forget to take the occasional quiet moment, look over at my wife, and say, “Thank you.”

So, because this is the holiday that reminds me to appreciate what I have been so generously given, here are 5 things I want my wife to know this Mother’s Day. Because it's more than just wishing a Happy Mother's Day to my wife.

1. It’s easier for me than it is for you.

That sucks, right? And you know how much I love being self-righteous, so I wish this wasn’t true, but it is. In our family's reality — which is different for everyone — but, in our reality, it’s way easier being a dad than a mom.

When I’ve taken our daughter out to lunch, I’ve had complete strangers coo over us and tell me, out of nowhere with nothing to back it up, that I’m a great dad. I realize this has NEVER happened to you. Because you’re a mom. And moms are expected to care for their kids (“it’s your job!”). And dads? Well, the expectations are lower.

I know we know a lot of tremendous dads, even single dads who work harder than I can ever imagine, but for you and me, though I hate to admit it... yeah, you have it harder.

2. You’re actually the fun one.

I have somehow fallen into the stereotypical role of the “permissive parent.” People look at us and think, “Oh, he probably lets her get away with everything” and while there’s some truth to that, you don’t get nearly enough credit for being, in my opinion, the really fun parent.

Who first came up with the idea for milkshakes for breakfast? Not me. Who started the tradition of post-bath tango dancing? Not me. Who plans the majority of our trips, introducing our daughter to cities around the country, even if it’s just us tagging along with you on a work conference, allowing us to explore while you sit in a convention center all day? Yep, it’s you.

So, yes, I’m a big dumb guy with a lot of toys on his desk, but don’t let the outside stuff fool you — YOU are the fun one.

3. I don’t envy what you’ve got coming.

Our daughter starts middle school next year, which means she’s almost a teenager, which means YIKES. We know it’s coming. Puberty, angst, teenager-ism. We’re going to have to present a united front to survive this together, but we have a girl, so... yeah, you’re going to get the worst of it.

You’re going to get the weird mother-daughter tension, you’ll have to explain the body-changing stuff in intimately personal ways that my dumb textbook knowledge can never compete with, you’re going to see all your best and worst qualities reflected in our girl, whether they’re really there or not.

So, before that all starts, let me just say pre-emptively: thank you and I’m sorry.

4. I copy you all the time.

It’s true. I hate admitting it. But you are the “J” in my “WWJD.”

When presented with a new parenting situation, I am constantly asking myself what would you do in my place. Yes, some of that comes from my desire to not get yelled at when you ask me, “Well, why did you do that?!” after the fact, but the main thing that drives that impulse is that I respect the hell out of you and you’re my parenting role model.

So, thanks a lot, J.