3 ridiculous ways to celebrate motherhood

Fox News

11-05-2025

Is there a better way to strengthen the bond between mother and child than to share a ridiculous experience or two?
Well, maybe. But celebrating motherhood in joyful, unconventional ways just might be highly underrated, because experiencing the absurd together has the power to create lasting memories and spawn all kinds of delight.
Here are just three ways you might do that … if you dare, you rebel, you.
Maybe you'd like to say, "Yes," to a kid's request for mismatched crazy clothes for the day.
Say, "Yes," to dessert first.
Say, "Yes," to a popup dance party. Turn on your plug-in disco ball (You have one of those, right? If not, I highly recommend.), turn on the dance music and celebrate — anywhere! The kitchen, the bedroom, even the bathroom. (Nothing like a disco shower experience first thing in the morning.)
Say, "Yes," to making impromptu "movies" for posterity. (Or just for fun!)
Or maybe, like I did once, you could say, "Yes," to an adventure in yucky weather.
One rainy day when my daughter was 4 years old, I had a lot to do and was cleaning the house when she approached me with this perfectly ridiculous suggestion: "Mommy," she said, "Let's put on our swimsuits and get umbrellas and go walking in the rain."
To be clear: my first thought was, "This is wrong on so many levels."
For one thing, we lived in a neighborhood where the houses were close together; we all knew everybody's business. So, for sure, everyone would be able to see Jamie and me in our beachwear, ambling down the street like we did this all the time. I feared turning into a side show for the neighborhood circus.
And, come on, it was so rainy. And I was so busy.
Say, "Yes," to making impromptu "movies" for posterity. (Or just for fun!) Or maybe, like I did once, you could say, "Yes," to an adventure in yucky weather.
I almost said, "No."
But when she looked at me with those excited, big blue eyes, I thought, "Oh well. She's only 4 once."
So, we did it. We both put on our swimsuits, grabbed our umbrellas and went for a 20-minute walk in the rain.
Forty years later, she remembers those 20 minutes. So, do I.
And that priceless memory is always God's gentle reminder that He made this day and provided all the opportunities for joy in it — no matter how small, no matter how goofy-looking — and that I should embrace them for all they're worth. Which is quite a lot.
Actually, children can teach us a thing or two about crazy gifts. Our grandson once gave us a gift that he took special care to pick out, a perfectly ridiculous one that he just knew would fill us with grandparental glee: It was a coffee mug shaped like a golden toilet.
I am not even kidding.
And we continue to enjoy that one as it sits on our bookcase (Um … not in our kitchen with all the other boring mugs.) and makes us laugh.
So, maybe you could inhabit that spirit and give your child socks with your child's face on them, a practical joke kit, or a goofy, raucous game, like Twister.
Or you could turn the tables and gift your own mom with something absurd that would bring her joy. My mom's birthday was December 4, and when I was a child, I thought the most wonderful birthday present I could give her was a corsage that she could wear during the Christmas season.
Year after year, I "blessed" her with exceedingly tacky corsages made of fake snowmen, fake poinsettias and tiny goofy-eyed elves. I was proudest, though, the year I found a corsage with a disproportionately large aluminum snow shovel in the middle.
I remember being absolutely ecstatic at the thought of my mom parading around all December with a snow shovel pinned to her chest.
One day, long after I became an adult, I was thinking about those annual gifts I gave her and decided to "bless" her with another one, since all the corsages of old had mysteriously disappeared over the years. So I went to a florist, told her the story and asked if she could fashion me the tackiest corsage imaginable. And did she ever. It was perfectly hideous, and my mom loved it so much she made it into a Christmas ornament and hung it on her tree.
And every Christmas thereafter we got to relive that joy.
Ah, so much potential for a good time here.
You might let your child plan the day — the food, the activities, the clothes — and just do it all!
And that priceless memory is always God's gentle reminder that He made this day and provided all the opportunities for joy in it — no matter how small, no matter how goofy-looking — and that I should embrace them for all they're worth. Which is quite a lot.
Plan a road trip to nowhere.
Plan a "yes" day with a twist: You'll say, "Yes" to everything (within reason!), but each yes comes with a crazy challenge, like "Yes, we can put marshmallows on our pizza, but we have to talk in pirate voices the whole time we're eating."
Or maybe you'd like to plan something spectacularly ridiculous for your own mom, like I did.
One year my mom and I were at the Virginia State Fair, passing a photo stand where you could get your picture taken with a chimpanzee.
"Mom, let's get our picture taken with the chimp!" I pleaded.
I was 35 years old at the time and still begging my 70-year-old mom to let me do fun stuff.
I know, I know.
But to my disappointment, she repeatedly refused. Finally, I asked, "Why not?"
But celebrating motherhood in joyful, unconventional ways just might be highly underrated, because experiencing the absurd together has the power to create lasting memories and spawn all kinds of delight.
"Well," she said, "someone might look at it 50years from now and think it was a three-generation photo."
To my sorrow, our chance to make merry was gone — until about 20 years later, when my relatives from Indiana were coming to my home in Virginia for a family event. One night two weeks before their arrival, I had an idea. "How fun would it be," I thought, "to secure a photographable chimp and redeem that lost opportunity from years ago!"
In short order, I found one, and on the appointed day, when I saw the chimp and her handler coming up our sidewalk, I told my mom, "Put on some lipstick. I have a surprise for you!"
She was all excited this time, and for 90 unforgettable minutes, we were engaged in a primal frolic with this little ape — slightly scary since, by the end of our time together, we were all acting pretty much alike.
The sweetest moment of the day, however, was when my mom and I at long last sat down for our photo with a chimpanzee.
That photo sits on my dresser today as a reminder that celebrating motherhood with ridiculousness in all its forms not only brings moms and kids great joy, but I believe it makes God smile with us.
And that's the best celebration of all.