His question broke me, but I forced a tight smile.
“Because Daddy said no,” I replied, trying not to choke.
Caleb frowned. “But your feet are cold. Doesn’t Daddy know?”
“Honey, let’s talk about this later.
You’ll be late,” I said, gently ushering him toward his preschool. He forgot his question as soon as he saw his friends and ran inside.
I waved him away and turned quickly, so he wouldn’t see me breaking down. Even my son cared more than my husband.
***
Christmas was just around the corner, and Greg was going on and on about the microwave he’d bought for his mom.
“Top of the line. Smart. Connects to the internet,” he’d bragged.
“She’s going to love it.”
That’s when it hit me: if Greg wanted to prioritize his mom’s microwave over my boots, maybe he needed a little reality check.
While he was at work and the kids were at my mom’s for the weekend, I made my move. I carefully unpacked the microwave, placed my worn-out boots in its box, and wrapped it back up in the same shiny paper Greg had used. I even added a glittery bow for effect.
***
Christmas morning arrived, and Greg’s mom, Sharon, made her grand entrance at our house, draped in her fur coat and reeking of Chanel No.
5.
Her presence was a tradition she and Greg had started when we moved into our house. Sharon preferred a private gift exchange before the big Christmas dinner at her much bigger home later that night.
I always suspected it might be because she wanted to give Greg time to find her something else if she didn’t like his original choice. But I could never prove it.
Anyway, as soon as they sat on the couch, he handed her the big box with a proud smile.
“Here you go, Mom. Merry Christmas!”
Sharon tore into the wrapping like a kid opening the biggest present under the tree. But when she pulled out my old, battered boots, her face twisted in horror.
“What on earth is this?” she screeched, holding them up like they were a dead animal.
Greg’s jaw hit the floor.
“What the hell, Lauren? Where’s the microwave?”
I sipped my coffee from my armchair, unbothered. “Oh, I decided to sell it and repurpose the money for something more practical.”
Greg turned red as he stood.
“You embarrassed me in front of my mom! What were you thinking?”
I stood, too, and looked him straight in the eye. “I was thinking about how I’ve been walking around with frozen toes while you play Santa for someone who doesn’t even need a new microwave.” I turned to Sharon, who was still clutching the boots like they might attack her.
“Maybe you should try walking a mile in my shoes. Literally.”
Sharon sputtered. “I don’t know what kind of stunt you’re pulling, Lauren, but this is completely inappropriate.
This is my gift from my son.”
“Well, your son is prioritizing your whims over his wife’s basic safety,” I shot back and crossed my arms.
The room was silent after my statement. Greg and I were stuck in a staring match, and neither of us was backing down. His face, though, showed he was furious.
Sharon left shortly after mumbling a weak apology and telling us she’d see us tonight.
When the door closed, my husband huffed and puffed, and left our house, too.
I breathed a huge sigh as my hands trembled. That had been rough and ugly. I also felt a little guilty for ruining their Christmas gift exchange, but it needed to happen.
Also, I never sold her microwave.
I just hid it beneath the kitchen sink. I planned to bring it to her gathering later. I just didn’t know how welcome I’d be.
***
You can imagine my shock when I got to Sharon’s house with the kids, and I saw Greg sitting on her sofa, looking guilty.
I immediately realized word of the “boot incident” had spread when Doreen, Greg’s sister, ran to hug me.
“Good for you, girl!” she whispered in my ear. “I couldn’t believe it when Mom told me, but I chastised her and then, him, especially when he arrived here alone.”
I hugged her back. “Does the rest of the family know?”
She pulled back and smiled brightly.
“Mom took my words to heart and told everyone as soon as they arrived. They’ve all given my brother a piece of their minds. I’ve never laughed so hard in my life!” she added.
I chuckled nervously and greeted everyone happily.
The rest of the dinner was fantastic, but Greg was quiet and avoided my eyes.
This was especially true when his uncle made a joke about boots, causing the whole table to giggle.
By the end of the night, I gave Sharon her real gift from Greg. After hugging me, she apologized on her son’s behalf. She hoped I wouldn’t hold the incident against her because she was working on her materialistic ways.
I forgave her, and she sent me and the kids home with most of the delicious leftovers.
Greg avoided me and drove himself home.
I was disappointed he hadn’t learned his lesson as quickly as his mother.
A few days later, I sold some unused items online and combined that money with the cash I got from Christmas cards. I walked into a store a day after and bought myself a pair of beautiful, warm winter boots. They should last me at least three years.
When I arrived home hours later, Greg was standing in the middle of the living room.
His face darkened when he saw my new boots.
“Where’d you get the money for those?”
I smiled and slipped off the boots, deliberately taking my time. “Oh, I decided how MY money is spent. Do you have a problem with that?”
Greg’s face twisted before he sighed.
“Yes… well, no. It’s just that…” he trailed off.
He leaned down and retrieved a gift box from under the tree. It hadn’t been there this morning.
“I went out and bought this,” he shrugged. “It took me a while, and my pride got in the way, but I was wrong, baby. Can you forgive me?”
My husband handed me the gift box, and I took it, trying to hide my excitement.
I knew what was inside: a pair of new winter boots, which were much more expensive than the ones I’d bought.
I chuckled and hugged Greg. Yes, I forgave him. And I think I fell in love with him more that winter.
Because he started treating me like he did when we first fell in love.
Yet, I insisted on opening my own bank account and starting a side home business, so I could make my own money. I wasn’t going to stop being a stay-at-home mom or housewife, but a little more independence was just what the doctor ordered.
And my husband was supportive. That’s all I wanted!
