Friday, October 14, 2011


I can be a spoiled brass monkey.

For instance, I love lavender, so I buy it in laundry detergent, lotion, and air freshener form when it’s available.  What I really want are cases of French-milled lavender soap and a lavender field to retire on. 

When my husband travels for work and brings me a gift, even if he’s traveling to Minooka, Illinois, I expect Bulgari jewels.  The last gift he brought me?  Airport chocolate bar.

Sweet?  YES.  I said I was spoiled.  I have good peeps here.  My expectations *may* need to be adjusted a little.

My family appreciates all that I do for them.  They say so.  They say, “Good job on cleaning/cooking/paying the bills/keeping us alive.”  I know they mean “Thank you for doing all of the tedious crap you do to keep us comfortable, because if we had to do it, we’d go all Texas Chainsaw Massacre up in here.”

At least they don’t wonder why I drink.

At least my own spoiled brattiness allows me to understand why, when I ask my kids what they want for Christmas, they present me with lists a mile long full of items that cost five hundred bucks each.

Or when, a couple of years ago, we decided that instead of getting the kids gifts for their birthdays, we’d all go somewhere as a family and celebrate.  We let the kids choose their destinations.  I was expecting day trips to the zoo or a nearby amusement park.  What they asked for were weekends at Great Wolf Lodge and New York City to see Broadway shows.  I was impressed with their imagination and the innocent yet grandiose expectations, and so of course we complied, and we all had a fabulous time.  Memories were made on those birthdays that the kids still talk about with stars in their eyes.

Because of this, I just know that expectations of fields of lavender and Bulgari jewels, however outrageous, if given, would create memories unsurpassed in my lifetime. 

Until these expectations are met, I’ll just chomp on my chocolate and be satisfied with what I have, because it really isn't so bad.


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