The thing about my husband is, he is an excellent gift-giver. Like, really good. Our first Christmas together he gave me my wedding band (we didn't have money for it when we got married). (I gave him a vacuum cleaner.)(For his birthday this year, I gave him a steam cleaner.)(I'm not as good as he is when it comes to presents) For my birthday two years ago he gave me a real DSLR camera. The exact one I'd been craving for... a very long time. The next year he gave me the lenses I'd been after. Christmas before last, he bought me a laptop, and a Flip cam in anticipation of our little Bunny.
But it's not always the BIG things that he gives me that mean the most.
The month before we got married, he gave me a mulit-slot picture frame already filled with pictures of our little family.
When my Ladybug was a few weeks old, and Jeremy was working the night shift, he came home around 2 in the morning, giddy because he bought me something. It was a Boppy. I was (deliriously tired and) thrilled. He was so proud that he'd gotten me something I didn't even know I wanted.
When I was pregnant with the Bunny, he bought me a new pillow, simply because he knew how uncomfortable I was and wanted to remedy that.
Often, he will bring me some little something- chocolate, a new pen, a warm drink, the Brita water pitcher I'd been eyeing- just because he loves me.
He doesn't hold my hand in public very often. He opens almost every door for me. We never kiss when people can see. He doesn't make jokes at my expense. He gets irritated when I leave the house for more than a few hours. He always puts the toilet seat down.
There are so many routines, nuances, and complicated mechanisms of our relationship- just like any other marriage.
I had surgery the Friday before Valentine's Day. I knew I wouldn't be able to get him anything, so I asked my mom to pick up the thing I wanted to give him (a waffle maker, because his died).(Cleaning and cooking appliances, these are the things I present to my husband. Pillows and diamonds- that's what he gives me) I did manage to pick out a card, fill in the blanks with words of my undying love, and prop it up where he'd see it.
He saw it too early. He always sees/figures out/spoils his gifts from me.... early. He is an accomplished secret-keeper. I, suck.
Anyway, he opened his card and thanked me for it, I had surgery, my mom hid his gift under my side of the bed, and I managed to actually surprise him last Sunday with a present.
But he didn't get me anything.
Not a present, not a card, no chocolate. Nothing.
I pointed that out once, and only once, and he haha'd about it and mumbled something about how he'd make it up to me later. One week later, and still, nothing.
I worked myself into a funk last night about other things, and then began stewing about the fact that he doesn't love me like he used to (oh LORD do I get dramatic- in my own head- when I go to the dark and funky place), or he would have given me SOMETHING by now. It's Valentine's Day for crap's sake!
Then I remembered how he was so nervous and yelly, and nervous and making me laugh, and nervous but too tough to admit it before I went into surgery.
I remembered that he was standing beside my bed, stroking my hand, when I woke up- and had been watching over me the whole time.
I remembered that he called my Momma to drive up, because he knew she couldn't stand not to be here but she wouldn't interfere.
I remembered that he was diligent about keeping my ice chips fresh.
I remembered that, after my Momma went home, he spent the entire (extended!) weekend with our babies, keeping them happy, keeping them quiet.
I remembered that even when my mother came back to help, he still refilled my glass, made sure I had the remote, a book, and the heating pad turned on.
He bought all the groceries, washed every load of laundry, served every meal, gave every bath, read every book, wiped every nose/butt.... did everything he normally does, but without a single lifted hand of mine, for 9 days.
At night he would crawl into bed beside me, exhausted, and ask how I felt. He would tell me all about his day at work, then his evening at home. He would tell me about my babies, and do immitations of each of their funny habits.
And he bought me crackers and Gatorade and Sprite and not one, but three bottles of my favorite cranberry/blackberry juice, because he did not want me to be without.
He didn't buy me a card with someone else's sentiment inside, he didn't buy my a tennis bracelet, but he did- and does, daily- everything in his power to make me comfortable, happy, and secure in the knowledge that my needs come before his, and he will never stop trying to make me laugh.
He got me juice for Valentine's Day.