It’s never been much of a secret that my husband is not the best at giving gifts.
I’ve already told the story of our first anniversary when,
still fresh with romantic expectation,
I opened my gift from him to find what lay inside was a Target garden gnome.
There was the year I went all out for him for Christmas and yet all I ended up with was one pair of socks and a wine bottle opener that he immediately confessed had been bought because it had been on sale.
As one of my top Love Languages is gifts,
this factor of our marriage has even been a topic of couple’s therapy.
Tissues have been involved.
This therapy must be working,
however,
because this year for my birthday he bought me a brand new purse.
But not just any purse.
A very expensive,
much coveted,
genuine beautiful leather,
buttery Joanna Gaines Magnolia purse.
It is perfect in every way.
It’s just my size,
just my style.
It is the certifiable purse of my dreams.
And also I am scared of it.
My husband Justin presented me with this purse on December 15, 2019,
and it has taken me until this week to switch my things over into it.
He commented on it still in its box multiple times.
He moved the box to the dining room table for a week,
my dresser for a week,
the entertainment cabinet propped in front of the TV for a week.
I understood all the hints,
still,
I looked at that purse kind of terrified.
I had finally gotten the amazing gift I had hoped for for the nearly 15 years we have been married,
but somehow this gift now felt too good for me,
because
I cannot be trusted with a nice purse.
My good friends know this.
They know that the dark stain on the bottom of my current one is from the exploded ranch dressing packet that Tessa had once secretly stuffed in there.
They know that I have reached in and found a black, mashed banana there more than one time.
I once won an online contest about whose purse held the most random thing when I produced two packets of Dinosaur Egg oatmeal, a pill cutter, and a big silver desk bell.
For years my kids have looked terrified when I’ve asked them to check my purse for something.
They’ve commented they’re scared to get bit.
So, that gift purse I was looking straight in the mouth stayed in that ever moving box for 2 solid months.
I squinted at it, while it dared me to just try to be that kind of girl.
So, on Valentine’s Day,
two months after I had received it,
after countless hints,
both verbal and visual,
I finally sat down to switch my purses out.
I cleaned from my old purse 6 empty ziplocks, 30 receipts,
2 pacifiers and a diaper,
(though I have no baby)
A metal washer,
4 pamphlets,
3 old grocery lists,
and a big load of fears.
I cleared no fewer than 10 pounds.
I put the new me that I hope to be inside that new purse as we women do with new purses.
It’s been four days now.
Honestly, I’ve been extremely stressed every single day.
Is my Starbucks cup splattering?
Can the dog’s mouth reach the straps?
Is someone stepping on it?
Should it be a purse protected within a purse?!
Wait.
WHAT DO I DO WITH IT AT THE VET?!”
I take back all my gift pushing now.
That wine bottle opener never stressed me out this way.
This article was written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
