Whenever I attempt to pull off a successful Mother’s Day, one without stress for my wife or decision fatigue, I remember a long-ago snowy night-out.
My wife and I met in New York City some 20 years ago. A year or so in, I was so proud to surprise her with an amazing dinner reservation I had scored, out of my budget but a special treat.
I picked her up at her office and whispered the address to the taxi driver. I hyped it up, so proud was I that I was going to surprise someone who was hard to surprise.
When the taxi rolled up in front of Raoul’s, the classic SoHo bistro, I was positively giddy as we got out. We were greeted and whisked through the kitchen to the romantic back seating area, where we looked out on a snowy Manhattan night fit for a movie.
“Pretty great?” I beamed.
She wasn’t reflecting back my giddy enthusiasm.
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, this is so nice, but this is your favorite restaurant, not mine.”
No need to say anymore. She was right. I had planned this grand night out for her at my favorite restaurant.
In that moment, I owned it. I didn’t get upset. I didn’t gaslight her. I said, “You’re right. This is my favorite restaurant. It never dawned on me what I was doing.”
If I could boil down all the mottos that swirl around in my head to one, it would be: don’t make the same mistake twice.
I thought of that long-ago date while I was helping our kids plan Mother’s Day.
We thought of the brunch place first. Turns out, it was easier to get a reservation at a fancy Manhattan restaurant than it was at one of the dozens of restaurants near us in Connecticut. So I grabbed one – quite proud of myself. But what my wife really wanted was this small restaurant with a simple brunch menu about 30 minutes away. Was the restaurant I picked better? It was, but it wasn’t what she wanted so I canceled the fancy one.
Then there was the gift. We noodled on this one for a long time. A greenhouse and raised gardening beds were in contention. Neither was cheap and both were a commitment. In the end, she wanted some simple hydrangeas to go around a birdhouse we gave her a few years back. And we’ll be the ones to get them in the ground, so she doesn’t have to plant her own present.
I learned from my Raoul’s moment. And hopefully my kids are getting a lesson out of this too. Happy Mother’s Day to all – and focus on this one, Dads!
