By Michele D. Baker
It’s nearly Mother’s Day, and I’m thinking about what to get my own mother as a gift. Luckily, she’s the kind of mom who will point to an item and say, “That’s what I want for my [birthday/Christmas/Mother’s Day] – let’s buy it now and you can wish me [happy birthday/Merry Christmas/happy Mother’s Day] later.”
That said, she’s also the kind of mother who doesn’t necessarily want stuff.
Our family recently had a long, in-depth discussion about the fact that we need to simplify now that all the kids, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren are grown up. There’s no longer a need to buy lots of presents. In fact, as a group, we decided that Christmas 2024 was the last major holiday where we would exchange gifts; instead, we plan to give handmade cards and cultivate interesting, fun, or unusual experiences.
Related: Wellness Mama’s 53 Ways to Give Experiences Instead of Stuff
Everyone in my family loves to travel, so we’re taking a family cruise later this fall. We have also stepped up eating out together at new restaurants – something I find fabulous but my brother, who is a picky eater, is less fond of. My sister-in-law likes bowling, so we sometimes head down to Fannin Lanes. (We are all terrible, but we end up laughing so hard, even wearing rented shoes seems fun.) This summer, we’re planning to take an online wine education course from the San Francisco Wine School.
This increasing urge to simplify extends to getting rid of things that I’m no longer using.
This one is tough for me, since I carry my memories in my stuff. Even though I no longer fit into that raggedy, too-small T-shirt, it’s the one dad gave me on my tenth birthday, and can I really throw it away? I’ve read that book nine times, but what if I want to read it again someday? Yes, I already have too many nearly identical end tables, but those three belonged to Aunt Fanny and so I feel obliged to keep them.
Related: Childhood Memories of My Big Brother John
A friend sent me a story of a woman who, when she moved out of her house after 50 years living there, took photos of all her “stuff” that wouldn’t fit in the new condo. She printed the photos, pasted them into an album, and wrote loving descriptions and memories of each item next to the photos.
She then sold the furniture, sent some clothing to thrift and resale shops, made gifts of some of the finer pieces to her grandchildren, and ended up with a tidy little nest egg and a new home containing only those things she really loved. She also created for herself a new rule for her small condo: if she brought something into the house, she had to take something else out. (Talk about “reduce, reuse, recycle”!)
This Mother’s Day, mom and I will find somewhere beautiful to go, or something delicious to eat, and I’ll definitely buy a gorgeous card with loving sentiments on it. But the gift I give her this year will be my love, my respect, and some good, old-fashioned quality time.
