In my family, gift-giving as an expression of love has always been a hit-and-miss affair.
The Princess Mom was always at the center of it.
One year she took my high school-aged brother shopping for a new winter coat for his big Christmas gift. He found one he really LOVED. And she found one she thought was more practical. They both walked away with expectations that the right one had been found and would be under the Christmas tree. On that Christmas morning, my brother put a large, wrapped box on the side and waited with happy anticipation until it was the last one to open... only to find that it was the practical coat. He closed the box, shoved it towards our mother, and flatly said, "This isn't the one I wanted. Take it back."
I was stunned. Stunned because he actually said that. Stunned because she didn't get that she had set him up to be so disappointed. Stunned because she was so hurt by his dismissal of a gift that was so important to her.
Later in life, birthdays were an occasion where she would ask what you wanted for your birthday dinner/cake, and make exactly that. For my brother, it was always meatloaf, corn, mashed potatoes, and whatever cake he wanted that year. For my baby sister, always whatever she asked for. For me? The dinner menu changed, but fresh raspberry pie with homemade pie crust instead of cake was a constant. Until... the year she discovered a recipe that included clouds of meringue and a ton of sugar topped with a few raspberries was carried proudly to the table and set in front of me.
I hate meringue with an unholy passion.
Let's just say I have one of those faces that should never sit down at a poker table.
And it didn't go well.
I was made to feel like I was an ungrateful child who didn't deserve
