Once upon a time there was a young girl, who wasn’t very snarky.  Yet.  This young, not yet snarky girl was getting married to a hippie who would someday become a pastor.  When making her vows to The Hippie, the young, innocent, sweeter than corn syrup, not yet snarky girl promised to love The Hippie (someday, much to the shock of everyone who knew him, to become The Pastor).  She promised to stand by him through all life would throw at them.  She promised to be his wife until the day she died.  Unless, of course, he ever gave her a practical gift.  Practical gifts, as we all know, are grounds for divorce.

The Hippie then promised, in front of God and everybody, to only give this sweet young girl gifts that were sparkly or chocolate.  All was well and everybody was happy.

Fast forward ten years and four kids.  The Hippie (now The Pastor) approaches his not so young, snarky bride.  She is worn, tired and, odds are, probably pregnant.  He is wringing his hands and trying to get in a word edgewise as she is putting out fires, folding laundry, bouncing a baby, and wiping a nose with one hand and a butt with the other (paints a lovely picture, doesn’t it?).  He meekly says “So, our anniversary is coming up, and I was going to get you that super fancy, 200 horse power, rather expensive blender that you have been wanting for the past eight years, but I don’t want you to divorce me. So, if you’d rather have a new engagement ring…”  “THE BLENDER!” she screams “GET ME THE BLENDER!!”

What the heck happened to me?!?

Life.  Life is what happened to me.  You see, somewhere in the screaming, laundry and dirty diapers the meaning of “luxury” changed.  The sweet, young girl saw luxury as something expensive and indulgent.  She thought that a gift should be the kind of thing you would never get for yourself.  The new, tired, snarky girl saw luxury as anything that would make her life easier.  Jewelry is pretty, but jewelry isn’t making anyone’s life easier.

Suddenly, blenders are more luxurious than diamonds, organic baby food is so much more luxurious than a concert, and you had better believe that I would trade a closet full of designer shoes for three minutes alone in the bathroom.  The day I revealed this to The Pastor, a whole new season of gift giving began.  And I was truly blessed.

The Pastor took this revelation and ran with it.  Suddenly I was receiving the most “luxurious” gifts.   Once, I even received an entire night all by myself with a pile of books, not even parenting books.  I’m not too proud to admit that the first thing I did was use the bathroom.  Alone.  It was heaven.

Suddenly it hit me.

I was an adult.

And honestly, I’m too busy enjoying these simple pleasures to let it get me down.


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