Heather Armstrong almost ruined Mother's Day

I'm not good at thinking up gift ideas for my wife, and I often end up trying to find the right gift at the last minute. This is exacerbated by her uncanny ability to get thoughtful gifts for me, and that she tends to think of ideas far in advance. Mother's Day filled me with dread. And then inspiration struck: Milwaukee's Department of City Development has a series of posters, one for each neighborhood in the city. Jenny had been meaning to get the Bay View poster for some time, but hadn't mentioned it for months. A quick Google search turned up the posters, and $5 later it was mine. I figured I had the perfect gift - it implies that I actually listen to her and even remember the things she says.

Earlier this week, she and a friend went to the Body Worlds exhibition down at the Milwaukee Public Museum. (The verdict? Amazing. However, some of the bodies might appear artificial... until you see the hair.) As she was telling me about it, suddenly she lit up. "And wait until you see what I picked up at the museum."

She told me to close my eyes and wait. I wondered if I was going to open my eyes and see a sinew keychain or something. Of course, it was the Bay View poster. She saw the expression on my face, and I had to tell her that I had another one sitting in the trunk of my car. (By coincidence, the very next day, a co-worker who had recently moved to Bay View expressed an interest in the same poster, so he just got the world's cheapest housewarming gift.)

Of course, I got points for the gift anyway, but now I was in trouble. I had a couple of gift ideas, but the poster was to be the centerpiece. The other gifts included:

• The slightly kitschy upside-down tomato planter (which I saw advertised on late-night television, so I knew it was a product I could trust).
• A CD that wasn't going to be a surprise. First of all, we had recently talked about it, and it's not like you're fooling anyone when you wrap up a CD - they're probably not going to think it's a puppy. (Side note: I'm a fan of R.E.M., and I like the CD, but if describe a 36-minute CD as "defiantly lean," you're inviting people to make jokes about how it was not so much an act of defiance, but that the aging band members needed frequent naps.)
• Ergonomic garden tools. My wife has carpal tunnel, and loves to garden, but still, it says "You're an excellent mother, and you deserve gifts" and follows with "It seems like there's a lot of creeping charlie invading the flower beds."

I had an ace in the hole, though. My wife's a big fan of Dooce.com, and I read that the author, Heather Armstrong, recently published a book. Perfect! I meant to go and pick it up one day after work, but the week got away from me. I'd have Saturday to get it, since Jenny would be working. So a quick jaunt to the local Barnes & Noble and done.

Except that B&N didn't have it. They offered to call the other store at Mayfair, a shopping mall that is everything I hate about shopping malls and more. But they had a copy, and they were holding it behind the counter for me. Another fifteen minutes in the car with a fidgety toddler, an aggravating search for parking and a walk the length of three football fields to get to the store... but hey, this book was the centerpiece now. I was so happy to be finished with the shopping, and Quinn was being good, so I even braved the children's book section so that he could get something. (He picked a box of animal puzzles that came in a little suitcase-like box. I later remembered that trying to show a toddler how to do puzzles is extremely frustrating, and I also realized that he was only interested in the suitcase.) The book was waiting for me at the counter - I glanced at the cover and got out the plastic.

Home at last, and time to wrap. I took my first actual look at the book, and realized I had made a horrible mistake. I had been expecting a book by Heather Armstrong, but she was actually the editor of a collection of essays by several bloggers (including herself). The big problem was that it hadn't dawned on me that a book entitled Things I Learned about My Dad (In Therapy) might be, oh, I dunno, a series of essays on fatherhood.

When Jenny came home from work, I told her that I had a gift that she had to open on Saturday, not on Mother's Day. As I routinely get quizzical looks from my wife, I have developed a shorthand approach using a Likert scale; this look rated a 2.

Please indicate your agreement with the following statement:

My wife thinks I'm insane.

1. Strongly agree
2. Agree
3. Neither agree nor disagree
4. Disagree
5. Strongly disagree

She unwrapped the book and laughed. "So why did you have to give this to me today?"

"Because it's about fatherhood, so it just didn't seem like the ideal gift for Mother's Day."

"I was wondering if this was something you didn't want my family to see, like porn or something."

For the record, I have never given her porn. Also, she had already purchased a copy of the book to give to me on Father's Day.