by Alexis Novak

If I believed the daily catalogues in my mailbox from Target, American Girl and One Step Ahead, I’d think that delivering a magical Christmas morning to my children simply involves spending a shit-ton of cash.  I would get caught up in every Parents magazine toy recommendation and run out and buy all the award-winning crap in my kids’ age groups that will barely squeeze into my house.

But I would never be seduced by shiny and soul-less mass consumerism, right?

Well.

My daughters are first-grandkids-on-all-sides-kids which means gifts accompany almost all grandma visits.  And then there’s birthday loot. And trip souvenirs. And potty-training bribe toys. And holiday tutus. So I begin Christmas shopping every October with the best of intentions, shopping with strict rules to avoid raising bratty material girls.

My main rule every Christmas is that each child receives four-ish gifts from us/Santa and small stocking stuffers.  This is the ideal size; enough for a little kid to get jazzed about, but not enough to set the bar too high for future Christmas morning let downs.

But this year, my three year old slapped me with the spirit.  She’s been so Christmas frenzied I let my guard down and overindulged in the retailyness of it all, riding her innocent Winter Wonderment. It took me a few weeks to realize I went too far.  My UPS man stops by every day now and as I knife open each package I can hardly remember what the eff I ordered on sale from zulily.com five weeks ago and for whom. This mounting cardboard excess is giving me bad chi.  No kid needs this much shit.*

I was a child surrounded by beautiful stuff and things but was missing other important needs. In an effort to give my girls the idyllic childhood my Super Mom self envisions in my head, I occasionally cave to the tempting fallacy that Stuff Is Love. Even though their world is happy as is- safe, loving, full, I sometimes think that matching purple suede slouchy shooties could only make their lives better, right? You see how this goes in my brain…

Those of us with shopaholic tendencies though need to have a sobering retail question we ask ourselves before we mindlessly hand over the credit card to check out.  I always ask myself “Do they really need this, and is it going to make their childhood better?”  Inevitably, the answer is no and then I think of a simple and cheap activity that might. My three year old was so enthralled by decorating the tree this week she bounced all over the house, begging to hang every last homespun ornament, many I made in Brownies. We played carols and baked and her Daddy held her up on his shoulders to place the angel on the “tippy top”. These are the moments that make a childhood and are not brought to you by Target.

Since the deed hadn’t been done yet, I knew what I had to do. This Santa had to reel herself back in. Way back.

Now for the fun task of sending some back, storing some for their upcoming birthdays, and re-gifting a few others. Though I had a momentary retail binge and judgment lapse, I have to remind myself that the best things I can give my kids aren’t plastic talking Vtech toys after all.  When we listen closely to our children’s joy, it reveals the same exact thing.

* If you are interested in the nitty-gritty numbers, I actually didn’t go that insano as much as I bought a stupid-silly amount of cheap small items.  Zulily loot really is well-priced and an addictive shopping phenomena.  If you didn’t know about it until right now, do not go on the site. Ever.

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Written by Alexis Novak • 2 Comments