If My Husband Ever…

Did what a certain member of my family did on Christmas Day, he probably wouldn’t have survived the day.

A member of my family, who shall remain anonymous, bought his spouse a book for Christmas. “Speaking Italian for Dummies.” I don’t know about you, and maybe it’s post baby hormones, but if my husband called me a dummy on Christmas Day, either he’d be maimed or I’d be bawling.

But wait, there’s more… because the story takes a sort of cute turn here:

He bought it for her so she could get some remedial help with her italian speaking, because he actually bought her a vacation to Italy for Christmas. It’s always been her ‘dreeeeeeeam to see the wooooorld and everything it has to offer… because that would be super fun, wouldn’t it baby?” (She calls him baby. In front of everyone. It’s gross.) This is the same girl that had zero zip zilch interest in getting married, until one day, he graduated post secondary and was making $100 an hour. Suddenly, the white dress (2 kids later… and it was PURE white… interestingly enough…) the guests, the cake, everything. Amazing how her mindset changed. Now, I’m not saying she’s a gold digger…

I suppose all that makes me come off as a smidge bitter. I don’t mean it to. Oh sure, Italy would be nice, but I have other places I want to see first. I want to spend a week in Disneyworld or Land. I want to go to Paris and see the Catacombs. I want to see Scotland, because that’s where my heritage lies. I want to go to New Orleans, NOT in the middle of a hurricane. (Though, to be fair I’ll probably see fit to find myself in the bottom of a few!) Here’s the thing: I don’t want to finance things. The only thing we make payments on to own is our vehicle, the rest of our stuff we own outright and purchased with cash. I own my couches, my fridge, my camera, my tv’s, my table, my bed and bedroom set… We rent our house, but we’re not exactly prepared to have a mortgage yet. This is all more than they can say. Yes, money is nice, but money goes away, circumstances change, and one day you’re living in a $2000 refrigerator box with a $600 camera and nothing to show for your life but a shitload of debt.

I’m trying to get out of debt. I’m trying to solve problems created by other people so that one day,  I can do as my grandmother did, walk into a travel agency with a duffel bag of money (well, she wrote a check, but she’d saved all her tips to fill a duffel bag…) and say “First class cruise to (X) ” She’d done this several times, and it was her own very hard earned money that did it for her. She took her husband on first class cruises all over the world because she wanted to go, she earned the money to do it, and she wanted him there. Were they poor or suffering for money in any way?? Oooooh no. Not even close. My grandfather was a computer engineer when computers first hit the mainstream workforce in the ’60’s. The first computer I ever remember playing on was a solid one piece lump, I’m pretty sure you could only type letters on it. He could disassemble entire motherboards and reassemble them without a thought. (And yet… Ikea furniture evades me.) They owned 2 houses, built a mini mcmansion from the ground up with their bare hands because they could, and paid cash for everything they ever owned, every vehicle they ever purchased, every renovation that my grandmother ever saw fit to have done to the house and surprised Grandpa with.

My husband always tells me that he sees nothing of my mother in me, and a whole lot of my grandmother in me. I have to admit that this is more true than most realize. That duffel bag thing?? I do that. Not with a duffel bag, mind you, but I do hoard money in the house to be used later. This year it paid for bills when my husband was unemployed, but it was there when I needed it, and I felt secure knowing that. Also, I change the house. If my husband leaves for more than a day or two, he can bet his sweet heiney I’m going to do something to the house that he doesn’t expect. (Don’t feel bad for him, his mom does the same thing and always has.)

My grandmother always tells me that in my husband, she sees a lot of my grandfather, that he thinks the world of me and would give me the moon if I asked for it. I don’t want the moon. I don’t even want Italy.

I’m perfectly content with the loving card and love letter I got for Christmas from my husband, which is easily my favorite gift he’s ever given me.



About Nunyo Biness

Just enjoying the craziness of 2 kids, and my extended family... Living life as it comes along, though it never has time to be boring! View all posts by Nunyo Biness

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