My mom put a package of ugly birthday napkins in with some stocking stuff amp; said you never know when you can use /br /Weird, I knowbr /br /Thanks for the contestbr /Lisa (aka @those2girls)

When Christmas finally arrived and we were exchanging gifts, my mother realized she had left The Clapper at home. “Oh Aham, Lindy – I can’t believe I forgot the best part of your Christmas! I got you THE CLAPPER.” Then she looked at them expectantly.

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Several years ago, my mother spent days working on handmade clay sculptures for my brother, my sister and me: lovingly crafted, grotesque interpretations of our heads. We each got a garish caricature, each a little different: “I made the nose extra large so you can rest your glasses on her face at night,” my mother explained to me. “Keep it on your bathroom counter.”

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Christmas Gifts for Mom | 10 Unique Holiday Gift Ideas for Mom

Still, my mother’s presents are never given with malice or mischief; they are always presented with wide-eyed, innocent excitement. “Do you like it?” she always asks expectantly, and we nod our heads while we try to figure out what “it” is.

When you get a less desirable gift, people like to say, “It’s the thought that counts” but with my mother’s gifts, you’ve really got to wonder What thought was that exactly? My mother is the type of person to see a pair of plus-size leather chaps and say, “They’re in her size!” without ever once saying to herself, What would my future daughter-in-law do with a pair of leather chaps?

“Oh, cool mom!” my brother said, slightly strained and a little relieved. “Ahh!” Lindy managed. But, The Clapper wasn’t there; it was just my mother excitedly clapping twice, and then twice again, to demonstrate what they could look forward to.

“For Lindy!” The message said. “They’re in her size!”

When you get a less desirable gift, people like to say, ‘It’s the thought that counts’. But with my mother’s gifts, we wonder, What thought was that exactly?

For instance, two years ago, my mother gave me red ruffled panties. They were large, bright red, and covered in obscenely fluffy ruffles, the kind that you see little girls wearing under their fancy dresses in old-timey pictures. They were the type of panties that I imagined, if worn under clothes, would make the wearer look like she was wearing a lumpy and quite full diaper. As I held them up, mystified by the bow in front, my mother remarked, “You know, because you’re dating now.”

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Well now…the worst present would have been an air popper for popcorn since I was getting a bit quot;cuddlyquot; around the middle. Needless to say, I wasn#39;t amused.

She never did remember to bring The Clapper to Aham and Lindy, so her clapping demonstration ended up being their only gift.

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So now it's up to you to figure out the one thing your mom doesn't realize she must have this Christmas. But no pressure — she's only the woman who clothed you, fed you and will love you no matter what. Actually, that does take the pressure off, doesn't it?

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But the weird, clueless, endless and enthusiastic love embodied in my mother’s weird gifts is the same love with which she raised my siblings and me, and it’s hers and hers alone. She has always loved us for our boring, reserved personalities unconditionally, and we – with all our eyerolls and exasperated sighs around the Christmas tree – love her unconditionally as well.

I took the clay head home and placed it on my bathroom counter as instructed; I soon discovered that few things terrify a two-year-old child more than a small, grotesque version of his mother’s decapitated head just sitting, staring at him while he poops. He’d forget it was there and then see it out of the corner of his eye and start screaming.

Besides, one day – many long years from now – when our mother is gone, we’ll pass these gifts on to our children and grandchildren. We’ll stare at them with goofy grins on our faces while we say, “Get it? Clap on. Clap off. THE CLAPPER.”

Over the years, my mother’s Christmas presents have become infamous for the amusement, bewilderment – and sometimes – horror that they could evoke. New members of the family, like Lindy, soon find themselves smiling, confused and slightly scared, like they’ve been asked nicely to open Pandora’s box.

Christmas present for my mother

I have far too many to pic from.I am the Queen of getting The Worst Gifts Ever.But the one that tops my list was the year my Grandma gave me a girdle.I was 21 and as she always says.quot;no self respecting woman should ever leave the house without one.quot;.I love my grandma but could not even really pretend to be excited about this gift. However now 10 years and 2 kids later, that gift may have come in /br /Thanksbr /Jenbr /@jeniswright

But this time, as I looked at a picture of pair of black leather chaps hanging in the dressing room of a thrift store I simply answered, “NO.”

Each gift is handed to us with the unspoken message, “This is me, and I love you” – and maybe there’s no better gift to give a child than the knowledge that they can be weird or awkward and still feel unconditionally loved, the way she knows that she is.

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I’m not sure why I drew the line at leather chaps and not, say, the gift card for erotic massage she gave my sister one year, but maybe it’s that I just couldn’t imagine springing that on my then future sister-in-law so early.

My son eventually started using the downstairs bathroom more and more, and then refused to take a bath if the head was in the room. We both endured its presence in our lives until one day, as I was doing dishes, I heard a series of bumps and then a large crash. I walked over to the staircase and there, at the bottom, was the clay head, broken into a dozen pieces. At the top of the stairs my son looked down, triumphant.

A Winnie the Pooh Christmas special. From my (then) boyfriend. I was 17. And never was much of a Winnie the Pooh /br /- Jen (@jenspeedy)

Here are 15 suggestions of gifts for mom that she will truly love — and won't get annoyed about the price tag.

The other day someone asked me what I hoped to get for Christmas. “Oh nothing,” I explained, “I’m a single mom. My kids give shit gifts, and my mom, well …” You don’t “hope” for gifts from my mother. They’re coming – whether you want them or not.

Moms can pose a particular problem when it comes to buying Christmas presents. After all, she will probably tell you she "doesn't need a thing!" and is genuinely happy reminiscing about the amazing macaroni necklace you made for her in Grade 3. Or she's already bought herself everything she wants and would rather you just spend your money on yourself.

I was used to getting text messages from my mom around the holidays with gift ideas for members of the family, including my sister-in-law. I would laugh or sigh or roll my eyes and answer “neat!” or “what?”.

I stared at a text message in disbelief. The attached photo scared and confused me.

My grandma has a tendency to give my sister the best presents and me all the crappy stuff. One year she gave me perfume from a Dollar Tree store and tried to put it in a fancy box. Meanwhile, my sis got my favorite perfume :/br /br /Jen (@Amazing_Jen)

We soon learned that the dolls were not going to murder us in our sleep – they were, instead, planning on killing us when we were wide awake. Nothing takes you from zero to heart attack faster than coming home from work and seeing a life-size replica of your child lying face-down on the floor.

Worst Christmas gift ever: two mop heads from my husband. He was so excited as he thought he was getting a really good deal (2) for something I#39;d reall /br /SewCalGalbr /

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