As I've grown...um...older I've discovered that I can be a difficult person for whom to buy a gift, especially for Carl. I've been trying to find an eloquent way of saying this that might present me in a sympathetic light, but it's impossible...
I'm a little spoiled.
If I really want something, I get it. If it's not ridiculously expensive, I buy it for myself. I'm not talking about new cars (I drive a nine year old Tahoe that's paid off) or expensive jewelry (I own none--though Carl did buy me a delicate ruby necklace two Christmases ago--good one, Carl!) or even big televisions (our TVs are all dinosaurs in today's technology & we get four channels) or stereos (even though I'm married to The Radio Man.) However, one year I bought myself a new Kitchenaid stand mixer. I bought the mattress about which I recently blogged. I have a laptop. These buying habits make it difficult for my family to know what to buy for me. Or to beat me to the checkout line.
This year for my late June birthday Carl shocked me. While shopping together at Target (we rarely shop together, as it's usually torture for both of us) I commented that I had been wanting a patio lounger, but that I had been waiting until they went on sale at the end of the season to purchase one. That comment, intermingled amongst many comments that day, was not intended as a hint. Nevertheless, guess what I received for my birthday. Yep. The patio lounger. Before I go on, I must say in my defense, that I was amazed and impressed that Carl had picked up on that statement. Believe me, he hasn't always had that ability.
Here is where my difficult side glares and would blind my poor husband if I allowed him look at it directly. As it is, I hide it as much as possible. (note to self: don't blind husband). See, he didn't get the right lounger. I've never told him that and he'll never read this blog, so my "secret" is safe. But the truth is I specifically wanted a lounger that was chair height instead low-lying as many of them are. Because of the arthritis, once I got into the low-lying lounger he bought me, I couldn't get out!!! And it's lightweight enough that I couldn't use the lounger itself as leverage because it simply scooted across the patio. Have you ever seen a pregnant woman trying ungracefully to rise from a low seat? That's me--minus the baby.
Wait, there's more. When he bought the lounger he applied for a new Target card to get 10% off. In and of itself that's great. I'm all for frugal. However, he failed to tell me that little detail. One month later I received a Target statement billing me for a purchase I didn't recognize. At that point I realized I hadn't seen my own Target credit card since the last time Hannah had emptied my purse of all it's contents--credit cards, money, you name it. Frantically I searched for the missing card, tearing my house and vehicle apart in the process. When I couldn't find it, I went online and tried to access the statement account using the last four digits of my (I never considered using Carl's) social security number. Nothing. I finally called Target directly, but couldn't give them the correct information to access the account. Several hours later, frazzled and worried that a stranger had found my card due to my failure to clean up adequately after Hannah, I approached Carl.
"I have something to tell you. I'm kind of worried."
"What?" Carl asked with a little concern. I rarely approach him in this fashion.
"Well, I have a statement from Target and I haven't purchased anything from them on my Target credit card. I can't even find my Target credit card. I think someone else found it and is using it."
He took a moment to look at the statement, then said nonchalantly, "Oh, that. I applied for a card to purchase your lawn chair." Then he proudly added, "I got 10% off."
AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!! I would've gladly taken the $6 that equalled the 10% in exchange for the hours I had just wasted!
As calmly as I could (remember note to self--avoid blinding husband) I said, "OK." I paused to compose myself. "For future reference, a gift does not count as a gift if I have to be involved in any part of the transporting, assembling, and most importantly PURCHASING of the item."
Suddenly squinting, Carl pulled out his sunglasses and put them on. "OK. Whatever you say. Sorry."
Yeah, buddy. Sorry.
This year nothing on my wish list can be wrapped in a box. I'd like a nice evening out with my husband that ends with our returning home to a clean house and sleeping, bathed children. I'd like time completely alone. I'd like to spend more time having fun with friends and family and less time feeling guilty when I do. I'd like my entire family to be healthy.
Of course, if my yard were newly landscaped and our building project were completed, I wouldn't complain. Much.
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