Mother's Day Morning at Harris Teeter

It’s Mother’s Day. I was at Harris Teeter early this morning buying flowers for my wife and mom. Don’t judge. . . I had PLENTY of male company in the flower and card aisles.

I was pushing my cart toward checkout, and I passed a guy dressed very nicely with a dozen red roses and a big balloon in his cart. He took one look at me, glanced down at the hydrangeas in my cart, and mockingly smiled at me as if to say, “You’re an idiot. It’s Mother’s Day. Your wife wants roses—not those plain white bushy flowers in your basket.”

Sir, don’t judge. This is what I would have said to you if we’d had time to chat this morning...

No, I didn’t get the dozen red roses. Here’s why: I know that while any flowers bring a smile to my wife's face, hydrangeas and peonies make her heart smile. (But I also know that HT never has peonies in stock).

When I get home, I know which vases to pick from the dozens I've bought over the last 26 years. Some are too fancy for hydrangeas. Some are beautiful—and would be great for roses—but are too small to handle the bushy flowers I bought.

I know that I don't have to worry about cutting the flowers exactly right, because one of the joys for her is cutting the stalks the way she wants after I put them in the vases.

I know exactly where and how to pull the plastic off the Harris Teeter packaging of each bouquet so that it comes off quickly and without damaging the flowers.

I know that breakfast in bed is a nice idea, but the truth is she’d just rather sleep this morning. But I’m glad you got the eggs and almond milk in your basket. I just know MY wife, not yours.

I know when to put marbles in the bottom of the vase. The trick is not to put them in every time. And you have to pick the right color. I’ve bought a bunch of these at Michael’s if you’re interested. Sometimes you want a ribbon around the vase, but I decided that simplicity was better for this vase on this particular morning in this complicated world.

I know that, under no circumstances, will carnations ever make it into the mix of flowers I buy for my wife. Nothing against carnations. She just doesn’t really like them.

I know that picking the free fallen flowers from the rhododendron in our yard can mean more than a $100 FTD special arrangement. They will be the accent this morning.

I know that while the bushy white hydrangeas may seem plain to you, sir, she will like those a lot better than the blue hydrangeas that are dyed that color in a shop. She knows her flowers. She knows which ones are dyed and which ones are not. I’ve learned that, too, because I love her.

I know that hydrangeas will be nice today because the deer keep eating all the ones she plants in the yard.

I know that yellow needs to be somewhere in the mix, because—as I have heard my wife say many times over the years— “Yellow is a happy color.” So, my son and I went with some yellow tissue paper and yellow streamers this morning.

So, sir, that’s why I didn’t get the roses. I wish I’d had time to explain all this to you in the Harris Teeter aisle, but I had to get home to do this: