It's not the gift card.
It really is "the thought that counts."
The lack of the thought counts a whole hell of a lot more.
If ever I feel my ego starting to grow, if ever I begin to feel "too big for my britches" (not the usual kind, though), if ever I begin to allow my own sense of self-importance to get out of hand, all I need to do is spend an afternoon with my mother.
Mother doesn't DO Christmas. I wrote a blog post once about the time she took the Christmas tree down WHILE WE WERE STILL EATING DINNER. Then there was the time she hung an ornament on a potted plant. She has always hated Christmas, and she tried her best to make sure it was pretty miserable for the rest of us.
She never had money to buy us what we wanted/needed, and I think that made her bitter.
At least that's what I'd like to think.
Let me be very honest here and say I don't expect gifts. Hubby and I don't even buy each other gifts. Except for our spiffy new iPhones that we got yesterday, but that was what we agreed on. I don't expect Mother to give us anything for Christmas.
What I would like, however, is to be treated the same as everyone else. If you're going to buy food gift cards for EVERYONE in the family, then please include EVERYONE. And don't mention that ... oops, (Bragger) didn't get one ... ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ... and then laugh uproariously.
Then she looked at me blankly and said, "Did I send you a Christmas card?"
"Oh. I think I sent _____ and _____ two of them." Another ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
She would probably be shocked ... SHOCKED ... to learn that I cried all the way home. And that I sobbed uncontrollably in Hubby's arms when I got home.
Thank God for two sisters who make me feel loved. I am so thankful for the relationships we have.
I just don't know why I'm invisible to my mother.
It's not my fault the vasectomy didn't work.