presents are not too much

It’s Helio’s birthday in three days and I don’t know what sort of effort I should put into it. He really isn’t much of anything for special occasions. My family is completely the opposite so it causes great strife between the two of us. Or rather, for me, he doesn’t even notice. He is hard to buy presents for. He doesn’t really like anything. Well, to be honest, he dresses very nice, I could get him some clothes. Or some meat that smells. I despise chorizo and what it does to the aroma of my house. He loves it, makes it many mornings for his afternoon lunch at work. Disgusting.
Out of principle I don’t want to try for holidays that are catered to him. I want him to understand what it feels like to not be thought of. However, the lesson goes unnoticed. For instance, this year for my birthday, I thought it would be great to all get together and eat at a Cuban restaurant. My very good friend was in from London and was able to attend, I felt that this was going to be the best birthday celebration. Now, as a husband, I feel it’s sorta your job to pay the bill when it’s your wife’s birthday and try to act like you are together. I don’t know if he gets overwhelmed with the English and all but he was zoned out the whole night. Barely spoke, which is odd. My friends were great, they make up for all of that. Sometimes I even forget that I am disappointed in him because of them. Thank God for friends.
Of course, as I was waiting for him to get home to leave for the event, he was exceptionally late. I ended up calling him at the exact time that I had told him that we needed to leave. He hadn’t been home yet to shower and change. It was then that he was at a store with our then three year old trying to find me a present. He doesn’t plan; he doesn’t try to make it special. I scolded him for putting this off until the last minute and told him that he needed to be home now.
The two of them arrived home with a sole balloon. No, “Happy Birthday Mom” or cake. (I love cake, a lot) We went out, it was as fun as it can be when you are 7 months pregnant and can’t sit in a chair for an extended period of time. I also, just couldn’t keep up, by midnight I had to get to my bed. I was exhausted.
That following weekend I was cleaning the house and found on the dresser a wicker basket with a clip top that had not been part of our clutter in the past. It looked like a dollar store find. It wasn’t wrapped; it was balancing two-footed on a pile of folded clothes and had caught my eye because it looked like it was going to fall on the floor. This basket was not presented to me, not even thrown in a plastic Target bag for me to open, and it was not my birthday anymore. In tears a week previous I had said to Helio “I don’t want any of your crap presents for my birthday, please try to make it special” I had hoped that would prevent this sort of let down. I was unsuccessful.
I’m not trying to be demanding or difficult. I just want to be thought of. I have interests, I relay my interests. I think it is nice when your spouse applies past conversations to department store browsing. I do understand that part of it is his upbringing. The lack of making a holiday out of anything was so apparent when we were in Mexico for Christmas in 2006. His family didn’t even get together. I made his dad and his dad’s girlfriend lasagna, which they hadn’t ever had before, and tried to hand over presents. His dad accepted just as Helio does, quickly, anxiously, and in a way, tried to ignore the whole exchange. Prior experience is one thing. However, we have been together over 7 years now. He should now know, presents matter and it is part of the American way. I am American. My family does big holidays and I like them.