The Gift of Giving

I tend to not make a big whoop about holidays for a few reasons.

One being that, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more appreciative of the little things. And let me preface all this by saying that I have nothing against gift giving or receiving. I, myself, am much more of a giver than receiver anyway, but when it comes to what do you want for this and that… I always find myself stumped.

As in yesterday: Mother’s Day.

In this blog, I talk about a lot of different and pretty random things: writing, not writing, love, marriage, relationships and communication. I may sprinkle in a few tidbits about my children, but I started this blog three years after they were born, so I never told the full story of how they came to be.

It’s not your typical birds and bees story, but I won’t bore you with the full length version right now except to say that in my first marriage, infertility was an issue on both our parts. So, the pregnancy was completely planned and completely wanted, even hoped for and prayed for. The pregnancy was difficult. I seemed to have every problem you could have during a pregnancy. I was on bed rest the majority of the time and I experience pre-term labor. The twins were born a month early, but luckily were at a healthy enough weight with fully developed lungs and didn’t have to spend any time in NICU (except for my daughter who spent 24 hrs).

In case you haven’t yet figured out where I’m going with this, I’ve learned to count my blessings. I feel that I’ve been given enough gifts to last a life time. I realized a dream I never thought possible (the babies, not the writing) and it feels selfish to me to ask for anything more. This is only MY opinion, though.

And raising my children hasn’t been a picnic. I divorced their father, spent some time as a single mother and eventually remarried. The children were both diagnosed with various developmental disorders which made schooling a major issue. Slowly, but surely, we’re crossing those hurdles. So, you see, every day, in some way, I feel I’m given a gift. I’m able to raise my children. They’ve overcome so many obstacles. Every day I see people who are so much worse off than we are. We live pretty comfortably. I rarely have to tell my children no. In fact, I’m quite guilty of spoiling them.

So, when people ask what I might want for Christmas, Mother’s Day or my Birthday, I’m honestly not putting on a show by saying I want nothing. I feel like I have absolutely everything and I wouldn’t dare ask for more.

My husband, though, is a big gift giver. He’s really into “things.” Like now, he’s wanting me to order a new Coach bag when he’s already bought me two so far this year alone. I tell him that I’d rather start remodeling the kitchen and if he simply must get me something, I’d like a set of pots (preferably Paula Deen). He looks at me like I’m crazy, but it’s honestly how I feel. I don’t like being greedy and/or wasteful.

My own mother, on the other hand, is also into gifts. She always has to get me something and she feels that if I don’t give her an actual gift, then I’ve forgotten about her or I don’t love her. Yesterday, I took her dinner, a bottle of wine and a card. I know she would have preferred earrings or something, but the gift was genuine. She gave me a nightgown which is one of my favorite things to receive. Practical and it has Betty Boop all over, so it’s also something I like which shows how much she knows me.

That’s me when it comes to gifting, in case you ever need to know. Keep your jewelry; give me a gas card or my favorite lotion or a new hair dryer (because I just broke mine), but don’t waste dollars trying to impress me or show me how much you care. I don’t measure anyone’s affection by how much they spend on me…

…which is a good thing for my husband who didn’t give me a damned thing yesterday but a hug. 😉


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