When my boots gave out during one of the harshest winters in years, I thought my husband, Greg, would step up and buy me new ones. Instead, he prioritized a gift for his mom over my basic needs. But I wasn’t going to take his disrespect sitting down…and both he and his mother were in for a surprise.
Becoming a stay-at-home mother had been my dream since I was a little girl, and I never changed my mind, despite how different my female friends and family envisioned their lives.
A woman cooking in her kithchen | Source: Gemini
When I met Greg, who loved the idea of a housewife, I thought we were perfect for each other. But it wouldn’t take long before I realized why women had fought to become at least a little more independent.
It all happened during the worst winter our town in Michigan had seen in years. I was 34, and I was happy with my life. I took care of the house and our two kids and I tended to my husband. Greg had a fantastic job in tech that more than paid for our lifestyle. All this to say that we were never struggling with one income. We were more than privileged.
A man working in an office | Source: Gemini
Anyway, this winter hit harder than usual and after years of serious use, my boots were in bad shape. The soles had cracked, which caused icy water to leak inside with every step.
I tried my best to find solutions, like using double socks. But it was fruitless. I also tried to ignore the problem, but my feet were freezing most of the time.
Old, worn winter boots | Source: Gemini
One day, I took our kids, Caleb (6) and Lily (4) to the park, but it was much too cold for any real enjoyment. We hadn’t been out that long when my feet started protesting.
So, I decided enough was enough. It was time to get new boots. That night, I approached Greg while he was scrolling through his phone.
“Hey, honey,” I said, keeping my tone light. “I need new boots. My old ones are done for. Look at this.” I held up the sad excuse for boots.
A woman holding worn winter boots | Source: Gemini
Greg glanced up, unimpressed. “Can’t it wait until after Christmas? My mom needs a microwave, and it’s not cheap.”
I frowned. “A microwave? That’s a little random. Honey, my boots are falling apart, and the forecast says snow will only get worse. I can’t even walk outside without my feet getting soaked. I really need new ones.”
“You’re exaggerating,” he said, shaking his head.
A man frowning while holding his phone in bed | Source: Gemini
I laughed humorlessly. “I’m really not. We can easily afford the microwave and the boots, right?”
“I already said no, Lauren. And… I decide how MY money is spent,” Greg snapped, looking at me with raised eyebrows before staring back down at his phone.
His money.
Those words hit me harder than any icy wind ever could. I wasn’t asking for diamonds. I was asking for basic winter boots to, you know, avoid freezing. Good boots could be expensive, but they were an investment in the future.
New boots in a store | Source: Gemini
However, his mom’s new microwave came first, and it was the only thing he wanted to buy. I had no words for my husband that night, so I just went to sleep.
The next morning, as I walked Caleb to school, I nearly slipped on a patch of ice. He looked up at me and back down at my feet, concerned.
“Mommy, your shoes are broken. Why don’t you get new ones?” he asked.
His question broke me, but I forced a tight smile. “Because Daddy said no,” I replied, trying not to choke.
A woman crying outdoors | Source: Gemini
Caleb frowned. “But your feet are cold. Doesn’t Daddy know?”
“Honey, let’s talk about this later. You’ll be late,” I said, gently ushering him toward his preschool. He forgot his question as soon as he saw his friends and ran inside.
I waved him away and turned quickly, so he wouldn’t see me breaking down. Even my son cared more than my husband.
A woman crying outside in the snow | Source: Gemini
***
Christmas was just around the corner, and Greg was going on and on about the microwave he’d bought for his mom. “Top of the line. Smart. Connects to the internet,” he’d bragged. “She’s going to love it.”
That’s when it hit me: if Greg wanted to prioritize his mom’s microwave over my boots, maybe he needed a little reality check.
While he was at work and the kids were at my mom’s for the weekend, I made my move. I carefully unpacked the microwave, placed my worn-out boots in its box, and wrapped it back up in the same shiny paper Greg had used. I even added a glittery bow for effect.
