I feel like such an ungrateful b!tch. I’m unhappy with my family’s Christmas offerings this year.
Normally we have an ordering system within the family. My father has a tendency to not give anything at all, and my mother has a tendency to choose gifts that are, well, not quite me, so the ordering system saves getting (or giving) gifts you don’t really want.
This year I asked for some new measuring cups for the kitchen, or a voucher for a kitchen store so I could buy some. Since moving into my new home I’ve been enjoying cooking and baking, but find myself without a lot of things I need. Like measuring cups.
What did I get?
A pair of pruning snip things for the garden (I hate gardening and I have a gardener) and a new chopping board (ok, at least it’s for the kitchen).
I’m annoyed because the one thing I asked for I didn’t get. It’s not about the money. And it’s not about getting what I want. It’s about the thought that goes into the gifts – or doesn’t.
I gave up hoping for anything from my father a long time ago, but I never cease to be disappointed by my mother’s lack of effort in the gift department. Not just for not buying what I’d asked for, but for not really putting much thought into what I might really like.
The thing is, I love giving gifts. I put time and effort into choosing something I think the person will really like, and I put time and effort into the gift wrapping, to make the gift look gorgeous. I also put time and effort into the card, and what I write in it.
Ok, I don’t put a lot of time or effort into gifts for my father, but I learned long ago that it doesn’t matter what you buy him, he’s never happy. This year amongst his gifts I bought some shorts (he doesn’t like the colour) and some particular continental food he likes (which grosses me out, but he likes it, though I bought the wrong kind).
I put a lot more thought into gifts for my mother and, to be honest, I feel a bit ripped off. And that makes me feel like such an ungrateful b!tch.