Sweetpotato and the Christmas Card
You know, in the year and 2 months that Sweetpotato has been married to me, he has sent hundreds- literally hundreds- of thank you notes, dozens of birthday cards and quite a few baby gifts, wedding presents, and get well flower arrangements. And somehow, he has managed to sign not a-one.
When you consider that in the previous 32 years of his life he had not written a single thank you note, you might expect that the correspondence of the past 13 months would be rather taxing on him, or time consuming at the very least.
But you would expect wrong.
Sweetpotato has spent the past year-and-two-months basking in the appreciation of grandmothers, new parents, and other assorted recipients of his thoughtfulness, halo glowing brightly atop his swollen head. Nevermind that he has no idea what he sent or why he sent it, he just smiles broadly, shrugging off their thanks with a modest "your welcome," while frantically searching my face for a clue about the mystery gift.
I started all this note writing by signing his name first so as not to seem self-serving, but then on about the hundred and fiftieth wedding gift thank you, I said screw it- I'm writing these damn things, so they best know it!
Here I am, schleppin' myself back and forth across the country, 3 days at home since Thanksgiving and yet, I have addressed over 50 Christmas cards, each signed with at least 2 hand-written lines of holiday wishes. To be fair, Sweetpotato did stamp all 50 with personalized stamps featuring our dog (gross, I know but she's just so cute!), but in proportion to my writing and addressing, stamping hardly counts. I mean, they were self-adhesive for christ's sake!
It's really amazing society has even progressed this far with the Y-chromosomes running everything for centuries past. But you know what they say....behind every successful man is a woman sending birthday cards.
But let me be clear lest my feminazi friends rise up against me, it is not a woman's job to take care of the personal details of life so that her guy doesn't have to be bothered. I simply refuse to have folks thinkin' I don't know how to act right, and if that means I develop carpal tunnel in the process then so be it! If Sweetpotato gets credit for my thoughtfulness in the process, well, I suppose there are worse things. Plus, reminding him of how good I make him look is never a bad thing right before a gifting holiday;-)
When you consider that in the previous 32 years of his life he had not written a single thank you note, you might expect that the correspondence of the past 13 months would be rather taxing on him, or time consuming at the very least.
But you would expect wrong.
Sweetpotato has spent the past year-and-two-months basking in the appreciation of grandmothers, new parents, and other assorted recipients of his thoughtfulness, halo glowing brightly atop his swollen head. Nevermind that he has no idea what he sent or why he sent it, he just smiles broadly, shrugging off their thanks with a modest "your welcome," while frantically searching my face for a clue about the mystery gift.
I started all this note writing by signing his name first so as not to seem self-serving, but then on about the hundred and fiftieth wedding gift thank you, I said screw it- I'm writing these damn things, so they best know it!
Here I am, schleppin' myself back and forth across the country, 3 days at home since Thanksgiving and yet, I have addressed over 50 Christmas cards, each signed with at least 2 hand-written lines of holiday wishes. To be fair, Sweetpotato did stamp all 50 with personalized stamps featuring our dog (gross, I know but she's just so cute!), but in proportion to my writing and addressing, stamping hardly counts. I mean, they were self-adhesive for christ's sake!
It's really amazing society has even progressed this far with the Y-chromosomes running everything for centuries past. But you know what they say....behind every successful man is a woman sending birthday cards.
But let me be clear lest my feminazi friends rise up against me, it is not a woman's job to take care of the personal details of life so that her guy doesn't have to be bothered. I simply refuse to have folks thinkin' I don't know how to act right, and if that means I develop carpal tunnel in the process then so be it! If Sweetpotato gets credit for my thoughtfulness in the process, well, I suppose there are worse things. Plus, reminding him of how good I make him look is never a bad thing right before a gifting holiday;-)
posted by Queenan at 4:23 PM
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