I love presents. Especially from my husband and kids. LOVE THEM!! I wouldn't mind getting a present everyday. Nothing big, you know, just something to show that the people I love have been thinking nice things about me and appreciate me and want me to know it.
I remember magnanimously telling my husband one year "it's okay, you don't have to get me anything." I so didn't mean it. Not even a little bit. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised that if he actually didn't get me something, not even a card, I would be so disappointed. I would, inevitably, take it out on him in some passive-aggressive way.
Instead of letting such a horrible thing happen, I went to him, sniffling and holding back tears and told him that I didn't mean it, I DID want presents. Crisis averted. Lucky for me (and him), he never thought I meant it anyway; he knows me so well!
I also love giving presents. Finding something (or making something)perfect for someone and taking the time to wrap it nicely and getting to see their face when they open it... *sigh*... joy.
The only problem with this is the buildup. Which, unfortunately, can often lead to disappointment. What if I think that I've been picking up hints of something special and it turns out it's really some stupid electronic thing that's not for me after all? Or what if I spend a tonne of time making/buying/arranging something for someone that I think is perfect and will make them super happy, and it turns out that it WOULD have been perfect a year ago, but now it's just kind of meh?
This year, I've finally decided that while I do love surprises (LOVE THEM!), sometimes the disappointment after the buildup isn't worth it.
That's how I know that this Sunday, I will be having a medium french vanilla coffee, fresh fruit and a sausage breakfast sandwich. There will be a bouquet of fresh flowers (not too big, because I want to put it in the white jug) and we'll all sit at the table and eat together, and the TV will not be on. It's going to be lovely. Any other surprises will, of course, be joyfully accepted.
Have I mentioned that my husband reads my blog?