Saturday morning
was so nice. Todd was supposed to be on
a camp-out, but it was postponed at the last minute. So he wasn’t scheduled to work this Saturday. He only works two Saturdays of the month, but
he also does one scout camp-out a month, and the other Saturday is usually
filled with a service project, hunting adventure, or some other kind of
scouting merit badge day or forest preservation something or other. It’s rare—very rare—that he’s just home and
sleeping in with the rest of us. It’s
awesome when it happens, and I relish the feeling of all being together instead
of trying to figure out what I’m going to do to occupy the kids all day. Since we’re all up early during the week (me
and the boys at 5 or 5:30 and the other half by 6:30), it’s pretty hard for us
to sleep in, so by 7:30 we were tossing and turning, done sleeping. I suggested we hit some garage sales. He added that we should get doughnuts at the
local bakery. Sounded so fun for a
chilly Saturday morning. Our big boys
were gone (track meet and chess tournament) for the day, so it was just the
other little kids with us. We were all
showered and on the road by 8:20. So
fun. At least our kind of fun. We found all sorts of treasures we didn’t
know we needed: a glass container for our homemade salad dressing for $1, a
brand new puzzle for $2, a white blouse for $1, brownies for $.25, a clip
board/binder set-up for Callum’s spy days for $1, A Better Homes and Gardens cookbook in fabulous shape for $3 (I’d
been looking online so I could get one or more for my kids for college),
gloves, just treasures to behold. What
bargains. What a successful hunt! Pastries were a hit. Although after Avery licked her fingers she
proclaimed from the back seat that she didn’t feel so good (greasy junk food hits
our family hard). But we hoped for the
best and proceeded to a fantastic new little grocery store in town, a little
progressive for our area, but full of interesting items. Bulk bins with all sorts of legumes and
treats, tons of (organic, if you’re into that) produce, fresh breads, self-help
honey varieties, just quaint, a fun excursion for the little kids.
I knew Todd had planned
to take Avery out shopping for Mother’s Day, but you know how efficient and
cheap I am. We were going by the mall
anyway, let’s not waste gas, let’s just go
in and get what we need—I promised not to look or get in the way. I knew it was perfume he was after. I wasn’t surprised when he told me which
store he needed to go to. I don’t have a coupon, I should’ve thought to
cut one out of the paper when I was circling the garage sales, everything in
there’s too expensive without one.
But I kept these thoughts to myself.
Well, until I said them. The
perfume set was $72. I about choked on
my air. He calmed me by saying that he
was just going to get a bottle, not the whole set. I prodded.
Only about $50 without the accessories.
I was beside myself. Who buys that kind of stuff? Actually, I own some. It’s just about gone. I’ve loved it. But I had no idea it had cost that much. I wanted nothing to do with it. People are starving in the world. I could buy a pair of shoes for that much. “Then let’s get a pair,” he compromised. Good grief.
Doesn’t he know me by now? Just a
cheap $10 bottle was all I wanted, from somewhere down the mall, a teen
store. I’m not glamorous, I don’t need
fancy perfume to match my definitely not-fancy jeans. But by this time I’d soured the moment. As I’ve done a million times. He calls me a dream killer (like Dan in Real Life’s daughter labeled her
dad: Murderer of Love). I’ve shrugged it
off. I’m just trying to save him from
himself. And protect our family.
But I lose. I try to explain myself. But he knows the story. And I know his side. I just don’t understand why he can’t compromise
with something cheaper, why $50 perfume??
No one ever notices anyway.
Later that night
with friends we told the tale, probably because they asked how our day was, and
you know I’m truthful about how things go down.
The guys were all on the same team.
They knew exactly where Todd was coming from. Whereas the ladies’ argument is the one I
know. We’re the ones dealing with the money every month, buying groceries
and kid gear, toothpaste and school lunches.
We know how much things cost, why blow so much on such expensive
gifts? That’s a third of our week’s
grocery budget. What don’t they
understand? Why can’t they just
appreciate the careful stewardship we apply to their hard-earned money? Not every wife cares like we do; some max out
credit cards or buy expensive and ridiculous jewels. We’re just trying to keep some in the grocery
category.
But our friend
explained how much it means for the husband to treat his wife. To have the ability to pamper her, to show in
tangible ways how much she means. He
works hard to earn the money, she needs to let him feel like a man and accept
his tokens of appreciation. I melted,
and I knew I’d been wrong all these years.
I’d been suspecting as much over time, but am tethered to my
stubbornness. And stinginess. I’ve almost always held out that my values
should trump his in this area. How very
prideful.
And so the day went. He ended up with some plants from the
hardware store when he went to pick up our lawnmower. Not his first choice, not as girly; more
practical, not exactly his idea of a proper Mother’s Day gift. I’d led him to this point; I’d told him
earlier in the week plant-able flowers would be just right, a perfectly acceptable and fine Mother’s
Day gift. It was my fault I’d undermined
his day. I’d sapped any joy he could’ve
felt from presenting me with such a nice present.
This happened many
years before when we were in vet school.
He’d bought me a black pea coat for Christmas. I insisted we return it, even as I assured
him he had great taste, I loved it, appreciated the gesture. Let’s just be honest, I told him. We can’t afford this. It was $70, a small fortune in those
days. But after I’d given the speech, I
knew in my heart it would mean more to him that I keep it. That I just acknowledge his selfless and heart-felt
gift. And so I did keep it. I still have it and wear it to church. And every time I do I can’t help but remember
the circumstances under which I acquired such a gift.
So after going the
rounds for oh-so-many years, it finally clicked for me.
And I understand where he’s coming from.
Enough to see that his feelings mean more than a perfectly balanced
budget. We’ve never had that in any
single month of our nearly-20-year marriage, I don’t know why I thought it’d be imperative to start this particular weekend. We can afford it, I should've stepped aside and let them shop alone. The team of men and women Saturday night agreed that the best solution
is to use a cash-only policy, where she has no way to follow the trail. This does work because that’s how I came to
be the owner of such a fine bottle of perfume in the first place.
I know you are
embarrassed for me that I even write this kind of stuff. But if any of you can relate to it, like the
friends we shared our story with Saturday night did, then maybe you can learn this lesson sooner than I did and allow him to experience the full
measure of joy that comes from giving from the heart and having his offering
accepted and cherished. As I will. Come
our anniversary in a couple of months.
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