Being Right

I like to be right. Actually, I LOVE being right. Like seriously--When I think I could be wrong about something, I will dissect it to death until I can find a portion I was right about. Yes, I know this is not only annoying, but it's a huge pride thing for me--which actually stems from an insecurity--which is really all just SIN.

It takes form in the normal ways of parenting, making decisions, work, etc. it also takes form in a weird way. Surprises.

While I really do like good surprises, I like to figure out the surprise even more. Poor Brian never has a chance. This Christmas was one of the only times I can remember being surprised by a gift (and I LOVE my metal chicken that he got me to sit on my front porch).

A few years ago, he ordered Sharis Berries for our anniversary and he completely surprised me. Last year, he did it again for Valentine's Day, but I saw the confirmation so I knew they were coming.

The other day, I got a UPS notification that my package would be delivered on Friday.  I thought it was a book for work, but when I opened it, it was for a couple of boxes of Sharis Berries for me and the girls.  I found myself feeling disappointed. Talk about wonky!!!  I mean, who isn't over the moon about strawberries????  I love them, and couldn't put my finger on why I wasn't just thrilled.

So yesterday, I got another notification that they were delivered but Brian was working out in the garage so I knew he must have intercepted them. I assumed he would put them on the kitchen island for all of us to find. But when I went to get a bottle of water from the garage fridge later in the day, the boxes were all stacked up in there.

Here's the crazy part:  because I like to be right, I almost made a joke about it to him and ruined the surprise he thought he was giving.  Later in the day, I noticed he had rearranged the garage a bit so that one of his tools was blocking the fridge. He truly wants this to be a surprise.

Then I realized why I wasn't excited about those yummy strawberries...it meant, in a way, that I was right again. That I knew more than others thought I did. That I had once again, ruined a surprise. And it made me sad. As much as I like being right, a part of me really wants to be wrong. To be surprised. But only with good things, of course.

So my challenge now is to be surprised when he gives them to me and not ruin the joy he has in keeping his surprise. To not feel the need to be so right that I tell him I knew and make the situation so wrong.

Because sometimes, right IS wrong.