I wish I could say I was one of those people who didn't care about "stuff"; the rare breed who actually want to have someone buy a goat or a star in their name. I am not one of those people. And despite a tender streak that results in spontaneous tears - whether it be a Hallmark commercial or a compliment from my boss -- at the end of the day, I prefer stuff over sentimentality. Sad but true.

Flexing His all-knowing muscle, and no doubt showing off His sense of humor, God landed me the sweetest guy;  one who wants to save ticket stubs no less. So this Christmas, I decided I had to take action. I orchestrated a trip to Barnes & Noble and while "casually" browsing, I "stumbled upon," a book I thought it would be "fun" for Eric and I to read together: The Five Love Languages. (Insert manical, evil laughter here).

As I gave a little PR-pitch for the book, Eric turned it over to read the back cover. By this point I'm already dreaming of the amazing things I will get for Christmas -- all in the name of Eric's pure, overwhelming love for me, of course. I didn't get very far before Eric's voice shook me out of my dream-like state.

"Oh wow I love this book," he says. "Listen to this part: She gives you a hug when what you really need is a home-cooked meal."

(Disclaimer: Much to the chagrin of my Martha Stewart-esque, home-maker mother, I don't cook. I kick-ass at my job, but my domestic prowess lands somewhere between organizing the take-out menus and remembering the delivery guy's first name.)

And so goes the demise of my master plan. I was so worried about Eric realizing that MY love language was presents (which sounds more trashy and shallow when you say it outloud), that it never even occurred to me that I wasn't meeting all of his needs. The poor guy just wants a home-cooked meal! I am officially the worst person ever. But this little wake-up call turned out to be just what we needed. I stopped thinking about myself so much and didn't have any expectations for Christmas (a first for me); and made a New Years Resolution to cook. It's only the 9th, and Eric has already gotten meatloaf, chicken enchiladas, and Southwest Chicken Salad -- and much to my surprise, I got Playstation 2, Karaoke PopStar Edition. 

Eric is full (of my homemade food) and I am full of awe and gratitude -- for my God who knew exactly who I needed, and my husband whom I don't give nearly enough credit.