Dear Reader, here is a humorous story written in 2009 and originally shared in my weekly newspaper column.
There’s a lot of talk about presents these days. Does it shock you to know that every Christmas morning I wake up and don’t have one present under the tree? My husband and I have an “interesting” history and philosophy when it comes to presents. There was the day two years ago when he came home carrying a huge box containing a brand new food processor. “I bought myself my birthday, Christmas, and Father’s Day gift,” he said. “It’s a food processor so I can make salsa!” He was thrilled, and when he’s thrilled so am I!
Chad is hard to buy for since all he usually wants are gift cards to home improvement stores. Last Christmas I told my mom Chad wanted a flag pole. Now don’t get me wrong, Chad was thrilled to finally have a flag pole to proudly display our country’s flag, but the flag was at my prompting.
My six year-old asked, “Mom, how come Dad always gets presents you want?” Both of my Jagger men waited expectantly for my answer. “Because . . . because your dad is just blessed.” I moved the conversation along quickly.
Some of my favorite present stories are when Chad and I first started dating. Within a month of meeting me, the poor guy had to cover my birthday AND Christmas. The night of my birthday he was smiling his irresistible smile as I pulled out a package from a sporting goods store bag.
Words cannot express what I was thinking as I pulled out a package of long john underwear. “That’s for when we chop wood,” he said. I could clearly see this was one area where we would need to “connect” a little better. There was something positive about the long johns. He bought a size way too small for me which made me feel good. (Of course in 13 years of knowing each other I’ve worn five different pant sizes, so maybe it was just a good guess on his part.) But he was young and I was old and were in love so the long john underwear present was quickly forgotten, because six days later he had a chance to redeem himself on Christmas.
Imagine my joy and delight on Christmas Day when I pulled out the ugliest, warmest, most practical pair of snow boots a girl could imagine. This time I wasn’t as gracious.
“You got me . . . snow boots? Wow.” (That wasn’t the good kind of wow. That was the is-this-guy-out-of-his-mind? kind of wow.) Houston, we have a problem!
In February he gave me an engagement ring, which really trumped the long underwear and snow boots. Which brings us, Dear Reader, to the first Christmas my husband and I were married. We had a tree and I’d hung our stockings by the chimney with care only to find – a cordless screwdriver in mine.
Yep. My present the first Christmas my husband and I were married was a cordless screwdriver.
And Wednesday, Lord willing, Dear Reader, you may read Part 2 of “Did You Mean for That to be in my Stocking?”