Socks were Hung by the Chimney with Care

Followers of this blog from over more than one year know that gift giving is not one of my talents.  In particular, I stink when it comes to my husband.  The poor man has received socks.  Socks! 

Worse than that was the year he received a re-gifted book because I'd stressed out due to pregnancy and the present I'd purchased for my mom, she'd already owned.  "Thinking of you as I wrap this gift." has become synonymous with Christmas.  My husband opened up his candidacy for sainthood by quipping, "Next time, just get me socks." 

So this year, I have vowed.  It will be different.   Normally, I start making a mental list and go through the children one by one, but that leaves me tapped out physically, fiscally, spiritually, emotionally, creatively by the time I get through them all and on to my spouse.  Hence, socks. 
I'd say ten kids does this to a person, but the book incident happened when we only had two.   So it's me.  

The problem isn't a lack of love, devotion or desire.  It's that I also stink at waiting.  I'll buy something and then because I see a need, I give it.  Ergo, we get to Christmas and there isn't something he needs or  Everything just feels like stuff to stick under the tree and you want a gift, a Christmas gift, to be something better than...socks.   

I have a few ideas, for replacing some things that have broken over the years.   I intend to shop for him first.   But I also wanted his input. 
"What do you want for Christmas?"

"I could use some socks." 

Maybe it's not just me.