This was published on my other little blog, where I wrote letters to my children. You can find the blog here, but in order to not self plagiarize, I am, well, citing myself. Self-plagiarism is a thing, look it up. This was one of my most popular blogs over there so I think it might enjoy some more light here.
Dear Everyone who loves my kids, and us, (but especially my kids),
Yesterday I started my ever dreaded Christmas shopping list. Blah. I love planning and buying presents for everyone else, but when it comes to writing out a list for own flesh and blood, my blood starts to run a little hot. How can I ever come up with a list that is large enough to cover the many places we travel for Christmas?
We have been conscientious about Christmas. I don’t believe we have overspent or over lavished our kids. It is a nice Christmas, and I am sure I have gone over budget from time to time, but on the whole, we don’t buy stuff for our kids outside of birthdays and holidays. My kids are overjoyed with their finds on Christmas. I can see the magic of Santa having come and the toys that were specially picked out for them from us.
And then starts the downhill slide. Both sides of our family are big, with lots of grandchildren and it is wonderful to have us all in the same place together. I love it, even in its chaos, all of us sitting down to eat and be together on this wonderful day. But, truth be told, I dread it when it comes time for opening gifts. It is a mosh pit of activity, where I feel wholly inadequate. My Christmas is not that big and it starts to lose its luster against the enormity of what lies around the tree.
My children have long forgotten their favorite toys they opened this MORNING, and are busy ripping through mounds of stuff with such rapid-fire it would make your head spin. It is like they forgot how to be polite, to savor what they have in front of them, and are just racing to see what the next shiny package holds. I can’t watch our family members open what we have gifted to them and explain why we thought it was the right choice for them. I can’t watch all three kids and help them open and experience their gifts with them. Heck, I can’t even see them over all the boxes and wrapping paper.
And I will admit as an adult, who loves my children dearly, I was excited about what they were receiving and their joy from their enormous haul. But it wore off fast. First, we had to pack it all up and try to fit it in the car. We made two trips in our extra-large car and then still had to find room in our already full living room.
Over the next month after Christmas, we reflected on the gifts. Most of them were opened so fast, we weren’t even sure we brought home the right stuff. Some of it already had pieces missing. Some of it, they had no idea how to use it so it was quickly was discarded. I realize that as I type this, someone could read this and think, “Waaah, first world problems!” Yes, I understand that, but we must be aware of the effect that consumerism has on our children, our world, and our relationships.
On this day, the day we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, the savior of our souls, I want to feel connected, thankful, peaceful, and full of love. The overwhelming amount of “things” is a barrier to these feelings for me. As I type, I feel ungrateful for the blessings I receive. It’s a no-win.
I can’t remember what presents I got in 1990 but I remember special traditions and moments that I had with Grandparents who are no longer with us. How we sat around the dining room table, a big group of cousins, aunts, and uncles playing marbles or Pictionary and laughing so hard I thought I would pee my pants.
I want my kids to have these wonderful memories of their grandparents. I want my children to be grateful for human beings. To take care of what they have. To know that Christmas is a special time and they are so loved by the time they get to spend with special family and not the things they were bought. I want them to connect with the world around them with diverse experiences and not connect with “owning” something. I want the magic of Christmas to last more than 2 hours. Can we all agree that cutting back at Christmas is not depriving the lives of our children but enriching it?
Love, Stef
