Mother's Day coupons have caught up to me

Chieftain column, May 12, 2011

I just discovered I have plenty of work to keep me busy for the next year or so. It won’t pay anything, but in an economy like this you have to be grateful to be working at all. I learned of my new busy schedule when I called home for Mother’s Day. Told Mom I’d be coming to visit soon and would take her out to dinner. There’s a restaurant we’ve been meaning to try and couldn’t get reservations once, so the family drew up a homemade gift certificate for Mom as a promise to take her there. “We’re going to cash that thing in,” I told Mom. “Great,” she said. “Are you going to take out the garbage too?”

Here's Mom sporting her Easter dress. Or parachute, I'm not sure which.

Mom said she recently stumbled on her collection of gift certificates in a drawer, given to her over the years by myself and my sisters. Some elementary school teacher back in our childhoods came up with the bright idea of making coupon books to give to our mothers, good for cleaning our rooms or walking the dog, doing chores and favors and whatnot. Mom seemed to appreciate those little coupon books. Though she was probably just being nice. And unfortunately she never exercised her legal right to have us wash the dishes, rake the leaves or paint the house. So we kept giving her these books of promises over the years, and since she didn’t cash them in the promises just got more extravagant.

I now owe my mother a Porsche, a Caribbean vacation, fourteen hugs, $18,000 dollars worth of yardwork, adjusted for inflation … let’s see here … I promised to do my own laundry twice—check that off the list—but some of these aren’t so easy. On three occasions I guaranteed Mom a “happy day,” which my lawyer informed me will be entirely up to her as to whether I’ve supplied it or not, and we’d better cross our fingers that she’ll be reasonable.

Seconds after this photo was taken, Grandma Mary Ann
rescued Claire from that bear sneaking up behind them.

I really should have had an attorney look these things over before signing my name to such documents, but I was in elementary school at the time. My lawyer back then specialized in playground assault claims, not contract law.

I’m determined to satisfy every last one of these promises. Mom isn’t trying to play hardball or anything. She just thought it was cute to find a sheaf of hand-drawn legally binding documents signed in my looping cursive of a kid’s signature. But a deal’s a deal. If I can’t make good on agreements voluntarily entered into with my own mother, I don’t see how I can do business with the private sector in good conscience.

But it’s going to take some time. I was cranking those coupons out at a furious pace.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I’m going to print a copy of this newspaper column and have it notarized, as a formal acknowledgement of intent to satisfy all previous commitments to weed the garden, bring in the firewood, not fight with my sisters, etc., etc.

And while I swore to put a stop to this business of piling up promises until I get clear of all the others I’ve made over the years, let’s go ahead and add one more hug to the pile. Why not. Redeemable upon my next visit. Nontransferable. Subject to change without prior notice and may increase to two hugs.