Khaki Pants

Throughout my childhood, my older brothers continually informed me that I was adopted. My oldest brother, Scott, would call me "Kishme Ishmael" and said that my "parents" had purchased me from the gypsies. I began to believe this theory because, as a child, I didn't look anything like my siblings.

Even though my mother would pull baby photos of me to prove them wrong, I still always had some small doubt in the back of my mind that told me otherwise. I thought I had worked through this scarring memory...until Christmas morning, 2004.

My family had gathered around the Christmas tree, too many presents spread throughout the room. My parents have always done a fantastic job of purchasing "equal" presents, spending the same amount on each sibling and their spouse. Some years the gifts were more generous than others. From the look of things, it looked as if this would be one of them. I seriously had not asked for anything for Christmas that year, so I was somewhat curious as to what was waiting for me under the tree.

My brothers went first. They opened their gifts together since they were the same. My mom and dad had bought them snowblowers since they had both just purchased new homes. My younger sister went next. She was heading to college so my parents gave her a new computer.

My turn....what could it be? Karaoke machine? Theater tickets? Video camera? Mp3 player? I slowly unwrapped my single gift. I was shocked at what was inside. I pulled out a pair of Dockers khaki pants. They were nice. I needed khaki pants for work. These would be very functional. But, something didn't seem right.

Khaki pants?

Because I hadn't asked for anything specific; and because I didn't need anything, I quickly said, "Yes, thank you," when my mother asked whether they were the right size. A tear fell down my face. I struggled internally with whether or not I should bring up the issue. At first, I thought I wouldn't say anything because it would only make my parents feel crummy AND I didn't really need any additional presents. But, I had also been working on being a better communicator and expressing my feelings.

Later that night, I brought up my feelings to my mother. She responded by saying, "All I got you was a pair of khaki pants? That's it? I meant to get you a day at the spa and tickets to the theater!" She explained that she had forgotten.

Well, of course, I never let her live this down. For the next year, "Khaki pants" became my staple answer to simple questions...

"Karen, would you like something to drink?"
"Khaki pants."

"Karen, what time will you be coming over?"
"Oh, I don't know...Khaki pants."

As the next Christmas approached, my parents made it clear that they would be making up for last year's snafu. I couldn't wait. I was about to receive a gift that was bigger and better than my siblings. What could it be?

I eagerly anticipated Christmas morning as if I were a five year old again. When it came time for me to open my gift, my mom announced that she needed to go get it from the garage. The garage? Wow...this must be a large gift!

As she rounded the corner, I saw in her hands a set of used golf clubs.

I don't golf.