I haven't received it exactly, but I have already gotten the best present ever. The other day Hubby said in a reserved, depressed tone, "I have to tell you something."
Now normally that is not a good sentence for a spouse to say. It generally means bad information will follow, like "I just ate all of the cookies and candies you spent weeks making" or worse yet "I just tasted all of the cookies and candies you spent weeks making and they tasted like ass. I must now vomit."
But then Hubby repeated it again in tooting-his-own-horn fashion, "I really have to tell you something. [They] said you would be mad and that I should tell you."
Now, I wasn't born yesterday (or the day before). Hubby can't keep secrets and tries to leak out clues just as obvious as he leaks out evidence of having eaten out for lunch again. But he stretches out the "I should tell you..." comments for a good minute or so until I tell him to get to the point.
"I got you something for Christmas."
My eyes instantly well up. We decided we weren't buying each other gifts this year. Not even a "we-need-a-new-[insert mildly expensive household item]" combo gift. So I am emotional not in anger or in happiness, but in guilt. What is it with me and guilt already?
So I say nothing. And Hubby pushes onward, batting his sweet impulsive eyes, to give me the best gift ever.
"You told me not to get you anything for Valentine's Day. You told me not to get you anything for Mother's Day. You told me not to get you anything for our tenth anniversary. You told me not to get you anything for your birthday. Well screw it. You deserve a present. A real present. I'm tired of not getting you a present. We're already in debt. So too bad. I spent money. I bought you a present from me and the boys. You do so much for us. You are taking the damn present. The girls at the office told me to tell you. They said you'd be pissed if I didn't tell you."
So thoughts really do matter. That rambling mess of a statement from my mess of a man was the best present ever.
I don't know what he got me and I'm trying to ignore his "patting-himself-on-the-back" clues. Maybe the office ladies offered the biggest clue of all, maybe I will be pissed when I actually get the present.
But, since Hubby is constantly poking me and reminding me of his thoughtfulness, I don't have time to ponder the possible material present nor my overwhelming feelings of guilt and uncertainty of how to respond to his gesture of appreciation.
"You know, your eyes were kind of tearing up when I told you about your present..."
"Oh stuff it. Seriously. I take it back."