I know that I poke fun at Tate right here on the ol’ blog a lot. Maybe too often.
In my defense, I’ve tried and tried to get him to start his very own blog to record his OWN stories in his OWN words. He could also use his own platform to make fun of me. Surely I’d be as good a source of blog material as he is!
Sometimes I feel sort of bad that he gets his panties in a wad about things I’ve said about him or pictures of him that I’ve posted. I’m not trying to make fun of him outright , (YES, REALLY), I just think that the way we interact is often funny and it’s a source for inspiration.
So in honor of my wonderful husband, I’m going to try and devote an entire post to NOT spinning the facts into hilarious yarns where he ends up the Sonny to my Cher. (TRY.) (It’s the operative word.)
For the first time in I-can’t-remember-how-long-because-my-brain-shot-out-of-me-with-Carson, Tate completely surprised me for Christmas. Since I’m *trying* to be nice, I won’t link to any of the posts I’ve written about not surprisingly being, well, NOT surprised.
This whole being surprised thing is significant because really all I ever want for Christmas is TO BE SURPRISED. (And it certainly doesn’t hurt if the surprise is something I like. A LOT.)
Tate was even so thoughtful to give me one of my gifts early. Before our trip to the North Pole, he presented me with my first gift of the Christmas season.
“I thought you’d like to open this one early,” he said, carefully placing it into my open hands.
The small-ish, square-shaped box held inside the camera lens I’ve been desperately wanting.
With tears in my eyes he explained, “I knew you’d want to take pictures of the kids tonight, so I hope it’s alright that I’m giving it to you now.”
(So far, so good in the being nice to Tate on my blog, yes? It’s super simple when HE does nice things!)
For weeks Tate had been acting panicked about having NOTHING to give me. He really did have to work a ridiculous amount of time between Thanksgiving and Christmas and hadn’t spent any time actually shopping, so it wasn’t unreasonable to believe him. After he gave me the lens, he asked me if my feelings would be hurt if that was my only gift. Since I’m not poking fun at Tate today, I won’t divulge why he said the lens was my only gift.
So come Christmas morning I was pleasantly surprised to receive dangly handmade earrings (by a jewelry maker, not handmade by Tate), brand new running shoes, and the Les Halles Cookbook by Anthony Bourdain (my pretend celebrity boyfriend.)
One gift remained, purposely held back by Tate.
“Don’t open that one yet,” he placed it gingerly alongside the other three gifts. “This one is the big-hitter!” He beamed proudly from ear to ear as I tried to imagine what could be better than a new lens, shoes, earrings, and my food porn bible. I ran through the things that I’d been really wanting. “Could it be the external flash I’ve had my eye on? Or maybe a Mac laptop?!” Oh how my mind soared with the possibilities!
Eagerly, yet carefully I unwrapped the gift. I wanted to savor each moment leading up to the big hitter gift, knowing that it would be something I’d remember for years. And truly, it IS something I’ll always remember.
(Tate wanted to know WHY I asked him to take a picture of me in my Snuggie. “You’re going to mock me on your blog again, aren’t you?” My response, an indignant, “…!”
(Carson ADORES the pink Snuggie.)
In the interest of saying only nice things today, I’ll end with, Happy 35th Birthday, Tate! I’m proud to be your wife and love having the distinct honor of loving you and poking fun at you on the Internet.