Feeling Churlish (or, 'Tis the Season...)

This is not one of my finer moments. I admit that. My husband just went Christmas shopping. For other people. Not me.

Let me explain. Rob is, by the way, an awesome person, a great dad and a terrific husband. When it comes to gift-giving, or remembering a holiday that takes place the same.time.every.year...not so much. It's one of his few faults. Anyway, money has been tight, as it always is this time of year, so when we were flat broke (as in, "the buffalo on the nickel is screaming" broke) last week, I told him not to sweat my Christmas present as there was always the after-Christmas sales.

Fine.

Except that we're not flat broke right now (surprisingly.) And he went to go get gifts for friends of ours. Now, I realize this is not a huge fault and I should just get over it, considering how much larger issues I could have to gripe about. But yeah, I'm feeling a little miffed. I go out of my way to make sure he has what we wants or needs for Christmas---it'd be nice just once if he'd do the same.

Sigh. And people wonder why I hate the holidays. I know gifts don't mean love or care or consideration, that the best gift-giver in the world can be a wretched husband and father. And I know if I told him this (which I probably should) he just wouldn't get it. If he got nothing for Christmas, he'd still be happy. Me...well, I'm writing this post so you can see how I feel just now.

Yeah. Maybe I should learn from him. Or just tell him, already.