Chris always asks me what I want when it is present-giving time, and I am always very helpful by saying, "I don't want anything," which can truly mean that ... but it can also mean, "I want you to know exactly what I want without me telling you that I want it." And sometimes, it can also mean, "I want to you get me something that I want that I don't even remember or know that I want."
(I just read that to Chris and he said, "You should just say what you want").
Tell me I'm not the only one.
Gifts are not even my love language! I am a quality time kind of wife. And we are not even big gift givers especially for things like St. Valentine's Day or Mother's Day. I am sincerely happy and content with not making dinner and a crumpled piece of construction paper with one scribble on it. Maybe Chris is always trying to make me forget about one of the first gifts that he ever gave me, which was a book on California Impressionism because I told him that I like Impressionist painters (read: I'm a typical girl who loves water lilies), and he was in California. I thought it was sweet! He says I have never read it.
But I have looked at the pictures!
Well, this year after we got home from my brother's wedding (which will be blogged about!), a box was waiting on our doorstep. I was very surprised and very flattered because I really did not want anything. But. Chris hit the grand slam of gift-giving when he got me something that I wanted for a really long time, but it wasn't even on my possible gifts radar at the moment and I was not expecting a gift at all. Welcome to the Harrington lawn, Chris' magnum opus of gifts:
I've always wanted one since I grew up with my mom having one at our house. I feel like a real homemaker now. I hope someday when Ryan and Conor are older and out of the house and they see a Mary statue, they'll also think of home.