How My Wrapping Paper Ended Up With an Identity Crisis This Christmas

The holiday season crept up on me this year. It usually does. As a music teacher, my holiday rehearsal and program season begins in September and doesn't let up until the first day of winter break. It can last longer, depending on the commitments I've made within the community. By Christmas, I'm ready to hole up in a room somewhere, away from the general public, until the second week of January.

I barely decorated my house this year, although I did put up a tree. Come to think of it, my husband, Dan, took care of that too. It wouldn't have happened if it had been left up to me.

I did wrap my gifts. Not well, but I wrapped them, nevertheless. If you have been reading my blog for a while, you will recall that I am a bit of a failed gift wrapper.

One night, I found the cutest Christmas ornament wrapping paper hidden away in our closet. Dan had gone snowboarding in Sun Valley, leaving me with the whole evening to wrap his gifts.

"I wonder why I don't remember this paper from last Christmas?" I thought.

Dan came home late that night.

"All of your presents are wrapped," I bragged.

"Cool."

A few minutes later, he joined me in the living room and asked, "Why are there birthday gifts under our tree?"

"There aren't any birthday gifts under the--oh shit!" I exclaimed and slapped my forehead. "Birthday balloons?! I thought they were ornaments! It took me forever to wrap those gifts."

"That's hilarious."

"Should I wrap them again?"

"No, it's fine," Dan said. "It's difficult enough for you in the first place."

A few days later, I saw this photo on the Internet. I showed it to Dan.

"Oh yeah, this is what I meant," I told him.

He didn't buy it.

On Christmas morning, Dan kept saying things like, "You mean, I don't have to wait until April to open this?" (Because Dan's birthday is in April. Clever, very clever.)

A couple of gifts later, he said, "Only one more birthday gift to open."

Then he paused.

"This is the last time I'll get to make fun of you," he said.

"I'm sure you'll find something else eventually."

He stared at the gift for a moment.

"You're going to miss this so much," I said, rolling my eyes.

Finally, he opened the last present wrapped in birthday balloons.

It's the thought, not the wrapping paper, that counts anyway.

Right?

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