Christmas Wrapped

I am so not a planner by nature. Not by a longshot. But after I had my fourth child and realized my life would never again be a calm, serene, non–chaotic place, I realized very quickly that I’d better get organized about a few key areas in my life…or things could quickly spiral downhill.

Christmas shopping is one category on which I’ve successfully maintained a tight rein over the past years––unlike my laundry situation and my kitchen junk drawers, which I’ve about determined are hopeless. I’m not sure why getting control of Christmas was so important to me; I’m sure it’s partly because I really want the focus of the holiday season to be family, friends, nostalgia, tradition, and the meaning of the holiday itself–––not freaking out and running to the mall every couple of days because OH MY GOSH, I forgot to get Aunt Sally’s mikman’s present! Christmas is RUINED! I want my kids to enjoy Christmas, to remember it fondly, and not associate the holiday with a frenzied mother whose hair looks like she stuck her finger in a socket.

It’s also important to me that Christmas not be about consumerism and materialism, even though it’s pretty hard not to spiral into that trap without trying. Growing up, I had a friend who would call me and complain every Christmas afternoon that “her parents didn’t get her anything good.” And later, when I examined her stash, my mouth would fall open–––watches, designer purses, clothes. It made an impression, even then. I knew that wasn’t what Christmas should be about.

Except for the designer purse. I’d never turn down one of those.

So now, I begin Christmas shopping in October, which is two months earlier than I ever thought about preparing for Christmas when I was single and without kids. Starting early, for me, ensures that I won’t be scurrying around like a maniac at the last minute, AND that I won’t put myself in a position to spend way more on gifts than I would otherwise, which invariably happens if I wait ‘til the week of Christmas to shop.

Most everyone on my list, with the exception of my kids, gets one gift, so knocking out the individual gifts is pretty simple. But when it comes to the kids’ Christmas presents, I had to come up with some framework, some organized approach, or the number of presents quickly mushroomed into a random mish–mash of grotesque material excess.

Here’s what I came up with.
I have three categories of gifts for my kids:

• Something they want
• Something they need
• A book

My self–imposed rule is this: I have to get something from all three categories before starting over and repeating the process. So, say I decided to get each of my kids three gifts this year. I’d have to get one gift from each of the three categories. If I decided to get them six gifts each, I’d have to have two from each category, etc.

I’ll use my oldest daughter to demonstrate how this list might translate to real–life gifts:

• Something she wants: A locket. Don’t ask me why. She must’ve read about one in a book somewhere.
• Something she needs: A new pair of spurs. She’s outgrown hers, and I have my eye on a new pair with turquoise stones.
• A book: I found an incredible Dorling–Kindersley reference book about birds, which is full of thousands of gorgeous photos. She’s into birds these days.

So there we go! A piece of jewelry, a pair of spurs, and a thick reference book about birds. I feel good about that combo. The jewelry is something that’ll make her happy–––it’s a memorable gift. The spurs are something we would have had to buy anyway, so to conceal it as a Christmas gift kills two birds with one stone. And the book, while educational, is colorful and substantial.
I generally repeat the 3–category revolution once again, resulting in six (or so) gifts for each kid: a couple of “exciting” things they’ll like, a couple of things they need, and a couple of new books.

It results in a nice Christmas. It’s not necessarily the kind of Christmas that’ll bust any records in terms of lavish goods. But it’s the kind of Christmas I always feel good about.