For Me? You Shouldn't Have

I received the oddest Christmas present today from my mother. Never mind that Christmas was two weeks ago, and it just arrived today, and given that it came with its own little bag of dry ice, it was, no doubt, ordered within the past couple of days. I suppose it is the thought that counts, and I should be thankful she sent me anything. Except what I am counting is the lack of thought, or maybe just the afterthought.

This is the card I would like to send:

Only it would be lost on her.

My mother sent me a box of meat. Omaha steaks, to be exact. The gift included, in addition to some fabulous dry ice that my husband no doubt will play with after dinner, four (4) steaks, four (4) chicken breasts, four (4) burgers, eight (8) hot dogs, and four (4) stuffed baked potatoes. It’s a generous gift, I suppose. I spent a good twenty minutes researching their website to find the value of the meaty gift assortment, and I couldn’t find this particular grouping, which makes me think she selected the items individually to make her own package. Or perhaps there was a coupon in the Sunday paper that isn’t reflected on the website. Maybe Costco had a special. Regardless, I got a box of meat, mostly red, to enjoy with my family.

This would be a good time to tell you that I don’t eat red meat.

I shouldn’t have to tell my mother I don’t eat red meat, because she knows. Or she used to know. Most likely she forgot, and in her defense, she does have some pretty significant memory problems.  Really, though, that doesn’t matter so much as the part where she decided that was the gift she wanted to give me, her daughter. I am not a big meat eater, nor have I ever been. I am also not hungry, like millions of Americans who do not have enough to eat and would be thrilled to receive a box of meat. I can afford to buy food for myself and my family, food that we actually want to eat.

But seriously, who gives their daughter the gift of meat? If you don’t know what to get someone, or you don’t want to put a lot of time and energy into gift giving, do you consider meat your default? What are you, a butcher?

When I was a pre-teen, which is what kids were called before they came up with tween, my mother also did not eat red meat. She gave up her extra rare London broil about the same time she gave up cigarettes, two healthy habits that lasted until about three or four years ago, which means for a good thirty years. I remember one time after my mom stopped eating red meat, my grandmother invited us over for dinner. She had made a big pot of meaty chili, and my mother had a conniption fit. How dare her own mother forget she no longer ate beef?  If memory serves me correctly, she screamed and stomped around like a two year old. What was she supposed to eat? Didn’t my grandmother think of anyone but herself? Couldn’t she for once support my mother in anything she tried to do? I wish my grandmother had told her to just eat the beans out of the chili. That would have been funny. Instead, my grandmother didn't have us over to dinner for a long time, because who needs that kind of abuse?

Blogging about my mother giving me a box of red meat isn’t the equivalent of having a temper tantrum. I can use the chicken. I can feed the rest to my husband or some friends or a pack of wild dogs. It will not go to waste.

Honestly, when my children received checks in the mail last Friday, and still over a week after Christmas, I was taken aback. Where was my check? My mother didn’t send anything to me? Did she forget about me, or was that a subtle fuck you?  

I didn't forget about her. In fact, I sent her gift early, so there was no doubt I planned on getting her a present. Hell, I even sent her something I knew she would like, because I thought about her, and thinking about my mother isn’t something I enjoy doing.

It feels good to know she didn’t forget about me. My sisters still haven’t received anything, although I am sure their steaks will be there tomorrow. One of my sisters also doesn’t eat red meat, so I know she is looking forward to her gift. And my other sister doesn’t want to eat meat of unknown and dubious origin or quality. Just because it came in the mail doesn’t make it safe or healthy or ethical.

Whatever. At least it wasn’t another box of flowers that I have to arrange myself. Besides, that’s my birthday present.

I am not really upset, more just amused. I gave birth to you. Now we don’t talk much.  Here’s some meat. I wonder what she gives to people she likes. I also wonder if there are any such people.

I love my daughters, and I am pretty sure they love me too. I have promised them no matter what happens in life, no matter if we get along or don’t, I will never send them mail order meat for Christmas.