When my boots fell apart during one of the harshest winters in recent years, I thought my husband, Greg, would step up and buy me new ones. Instead, he prioritised a gift for his mother over my basic needs. But I wasn’t going to take his dismissive attitude lying down… and both he and his mother were in for a surprise.
Becoming a stay-at-home mum had been my dream since childhood, and I never changed my mind, despite how differently my friends and relatives imagined their lives.
When I met Greg, who liked the idea of a housewife, I thought we were a perfect match. But it didn’t take long before I understood why women fought to become at least a little more independent.
It all happened during the worst winter our town in Michigan had experienced in years. I was 34 years old and happy with my life. I took care of the house and our two children and looked after my husband. Greg had a fantastic job in technology that more than paid for our lifestyle. All of this means that we never struggled with a single income. We were more than privileged.
Be that as it may, this winter was harsher than usual, and after several years of heavy use, my boots were worn out. The soles were cracked, and icy water seeped in with every step.
I tried my best to find a solution, such as wearing double socks. But it was to no avail. I also tried to ignore the problem, but my feet were cold almost all the time.
One day, I took our children, Caleb (6) and Lily (4), to the park, but it was too cold to really enjoy ourselves. We hadn’t been there long when my feet started to protest.
And I decided that was enough. It was time to buy new boots. That evening, I approached Greg as he was looking at his phone.
‘Hi, sweetie,’ I said, keeping my tone light. ‘I need new boots. I’m tired of my old ones. Look at these.’ I held up the sorry excuse for boots.
Greg looked at me, unimpressed. ‘Can’t that wait until Christmas? My mum needs a microwave, and they’re not cheap.’
I frowned. ‘A microwave? That’s a bit strange. Darling, my boots are falling apart, and the forecast says the snow is only going to get worse. I can’t even go outside without getting my feet wet. I really need new ones.’
‘You’re exaggerating,’ he said, shaking his head.
I laughed good-naturedly. ‘Actually, no. We can easily afford a microwave and boots, right?’
‘I already said no, Lauren. And… I decide how to spend MY money,’ Greg snapped, looking at me with raised eyebrows, then buried his face in his phone again.
His money.
Those words hit me harder than any icy wind. I wasn’t asking for diamonds. I was asking for simple winter boots so I wouldn’t freeze. Good boots can be expensive, but they were an investment in the future.
However, his mother’s new microwave oven came first, and it was the only thing he wanted to buy. That evening, I had no words for my husband, so I just went to bed.
The next morning, as I was walking Caleb to school, I almost slipped on the ice. He looked up and stared at my feet with concern.
‘Mummy, your shoes are broken. Why don’t you buy new ones?’ he asked.
His question broke me, but I forced myself to smile stiffly. Because Daddy said no,” I replied, trying not to choke up.
Caleb frowned. ‘But your feet are cold. Doesn’t Daddy know?’
‘Sweetie, let’s talk about this later. You’ll be late,’ I said, gently guiding him towards the nursery. He forgot about his question as soon as he saw his friends and ran inside.
I waved goodbye and quickly turned away so he wouldn’t see me break down. Even my son was more concerned than my husband.
Christmas was just around the corner, and Greg kept talking about the microwave he had bought for his mum. ‘The best of its kind. Smart. Connects to the internet,’ he boasted. ‘She’ll be thrilled.’
And then it hit me: if Greg wanted to put his mum’s microwave first, rather than my shoes, then maybe he needed a reality check.
While he was at work and the kids were at my mum’s for the weekend, I made my move. I carefully unpacked the microwave, put my worn-out shoes in the box, and wrapped it in the same shiny paper Greg had used. I even added a shiny bow for effect.
Christmas morning arrived, and Greg’s mother, Sharon, showed up at our house wearing a fur coat and smelling of Chanel No. 5.
Her presence was a tradition that she and Greg had started when we moved into our house. Sharon preferred a private gift exchange before a big Christmas dinner at her much more spacious home.
I always suspected that this might be because she wanted to give Greg time to find her something else if she didn’t like his initial choice. But I could never prove it.
Anyway, as soon as they sat down on the sofa, he handed her a large box with a proud smile. ‘Here you go, Mum. Merry Christmas!’
Sharon tore into the wrapping like a child opening the biggest present under the tree. But when she pulled out my old, worn-out boots, her face contorted in horror.
‘What is this?’ she cried, holding them as if they were a dead animal.
Greg’s jaw dropped to the floor. ‘What the hell, Lauren? Where’s the microwave?’
I sipped my coffee, sitting in my chair, and it didn’t bother me. ‘Oh, I decided to sell it and spend the money on something more practical.’
Greg blushed and stood up. ‘You embarrassed me in front of my mum! What were you thinking?’
I stood up too and looked him straight in the eye. ” I was thinking about how I walk around with frozen fingers while you play Santa to someone who doesn’t even need a new microwave.‘ I turned to Sharon, who was still clutching the boots as if they might attack her. ’Maybe you should try walking a mile in my shoes? Literally.”
Sharon hissed. ‘I don’t know what trick you’re playing, Lauren, but it’s completely inappropriate. This is a gift from my son.’
‘Well, your son puts your whims above his wife’s safety,’ I replied, crossing my arms.
After my statement, the room fell silent. Greg and I locked eyes, neither of us backing down. However, I could see from his face that he was furious.
Soon Sharon left, muttering a weak apology and saying she would see us in the evening. When the door closed, my husband, huffing and puffing, also left our house.
I sighed, feeling my hands tremble. It was rude and ugly. I also felt a little guilty for ruining their Christmas gift exchange, but it had to be done.
And I never sold her microwave. I just hid it under the kitchen sink. I planned to bring it to the meeting later. I just didn’t know how happy they would be to see me.
Imagine my shock when I arrived at Sharon’s with the children and saw Greg sitting on her sofa looking guilty. I knew immediately that word of the boot incident had spread when Greg’s sister Doreen rushed over to hug me.
‘Good girl!’ she whispered in my ear. ‘I couldn’t believe it when Mum told me about it, but I gave her a piece of my mind, and then him, especially when he came here alone.’
I hugged her back. ‘Does the rest of the family know?’
She pulled away and smiled radiantly. ‘Mum took my words to heart and told everyone as soon as they arrived. They all told my brother exactly what they thought. I’ve never laughed so hard in my life!’ she added.
I giggled nervously and greeted everyone cheerfully.
The rest of dinner went wonderfully, but Greg was quiet and avoided my gaze. Especially when his uncle made a joke about the shoes that had the whole table giggling.
At the end of the evening, I gave Sharon her real present from Greg. She hugged me and apologised on behalf of her son. She hoped I wouldn’t hold the incident against her because she was working on her materialistic tendencies.
I forgave her, and she sent me and the children home with most of the delicious leftovers.
Greg avoided me and drove home by himself. I was disappointed that he hadn’t learned his lesson as quickly as his mother had.
A few days later, I sold some unused items online and combined that money with the money I had received from the Christmas cards. The next day, I went to the shop and bought myself a pair of beautiful warm winter boots. They should last me at least three years.
When I returned home a few hours later, Greg was standing in the middle of the living room. His face darkened when he saw my new boots.
‘Where did you get the money for those?’
I smiled and took off my boots, deliberately taking my time. ‘Oh, I decide how to spend MY money. Do you have a problem with that?’
Greg’s face contorted before he sighed. ‘Yes… well, no. It’s just…’ he stammered.
He bent down and pulled a gift box from under the tree. It hadn’t been there in the morning. ‘I went and bought this,’ he shrugged. ‘It took me a while, and my pride got in the way, but I was wrong, baby. Can you forgive me?’
My husband held out the gift box to me, and I took it, trying to hide my excitement. I knew what was inside: a pair of new winter boots that were much more expensive than the ones I had bought.
I giggled and hugged Greg. Yes, I forgave him. And I think that winter I fell in love with him even more. Because he started treating me the same way he did when we first fell in love.
Still, I insisted on opening my own bank account and starting a side business from home so I could earn my own money. I wasn’t going to stop being a mum or a housewife, but a little more independence was just what the doctor ordered.
And my husband supported me. That’s all I wanted!
