“Are you done with Christmas shopping?”

“Well, we’re sorta boycotting Christmas this year. So, I guess I’m done.”

Scrunched nose, “WHAT? What do you mean you are boycotting Christmas?   You can’t do that! You have small children. What about Santa?”

What about Santa?  I’ve seen Santa’s sarcophagus engraved with his likeness in Myra, Turkey and Santa wasn’t a fat, jolly man who flew through the sky with a red-nosed reindeer.  St. Nicholas was tall and slim with a serious look and a long, thin beard. I’m fairly certain his goal was not to make-or-break retail sales the weekend preceding baby Jesus’ birthday.  The legend of St. Nicholas never mentions bringing toys to children.  According to lore, St. Nicholas did bring gifts of dowries and food, but there is no mention of him ponying-up an X Box or Bratz Styling Head. 

My mother is rolling in holiday depression because I’m not glossing a goose with butter and creating a memorable affair for her and the rest of the family to enjoy.  I think the family met and agreed upon a strategy whereby they would heap false praise upon me and my ego would glow and I would continue to strive to please and impress them with holiday feasts and parties.  The party is over.

I’m not staying up late to assemble plastic villages made in China, nor will I wake up early to prepare a cozy breakfast using all the ceramic holiday dinnerware that my family has gifted me– the holiday ceramic plates to be used at breakfast or pre-holiday meals as opposed to the holiday china plates to be used at formal Christmas meals.

I will not be breaking down cardboard boxes, stuffing packaging in plastic bags and overfilling my garbage can. Nor, will my housekeeper be filling her car with our excess garbage to dump in her apartment complex trash dumpster. There will be no war zone under the Christmas tree that fills me with dread. I won’t be sorting gift piles and trying to make sure checks and gift cards don’t accidentally get thrown into the trash.

Instead, I’m being driven across the West while eating a Snicker laden Blizzard from Dairy Queen and writing to you. Instead of breathing recirculated air in Macy’s while my eyes water from the glare of over-accessorized shoppers pushing and prodding while they grab the latest celebrity endorsed perfume, I am watching scrub country and snow clouds roll past my window.   The baby is asleep in the backseat and my six-year old has been silently reading for the last four hours.  Aside from The Professor’s occasional veer off the highway, life is peaceful.

Back to my mother.

“Oh, Bitsy. This is going to be the worst Christmas ever (because you, my only child, are leaving me alone.)  I have to go to my friend’s daughter’s house and it will be just terrible. She doesn’t know how to do Christmas. Bless her heart.  You do such a great Christmas. It’s always perfect. (Friends Daughter’s) food will be awful. She will have food trays from the grocery store. Hmpf. When they do their Santa Claus (distribution of gifts) I’m going home.  They will all get me a present, but I’m not giving them anything.  I never like one thing they give me. (Daughter #2) has never given me a good present. Hmpf.”

Why is this whole holiday gig about the presents?  When are Americans going to wake-up and realize that this consumer driven shopping frenzy exists to pump retail sales – not to “show her your love with a diamond from Helszburg Jewelers.”  Presents are from the devil and only cause pain, frustration, debt, desperation and envy.   Of course, my experience is clouded from youth when my mother often left the room crying because she didn’t get what she wanted.  My six-year is similar. Sad.

Last week my first-grader cried when her great aunt who has never even laid eyes on her mailed her a pair of socks that were embellished with pink bows and flowers. The idea that the aunt thought my daughter was anything other than a tomboy who eschews all things pink and frilly was so personally offended that tears welled-up in my daughter’s eyes. Compassionate mother that I am, I delivered a blistering sermon about being spoiled and ungrateful.  “Even though you don’t like a present, never let it show. Say thank you and be grateful that someone took the time to think fondly of you.  Almost 100 percent of the time you will not like a gift someone gave you. Buy your own presents.  Just be happy to have a friend.”  Somehow this lecture took the tone of “don’t depend on other people to meet your needs.”

Often times I think gift exchanges are about the receiver assuring the giver that the present effectively communicates its intended message like:

“I acknowledge your projected Posh Spice persona, so here is a luxury item;”

or

“You have succeeded in your poser wine/art/fashion image, so accept this rare vintage/painting/dress.”

or

“Got it. You’re a community activist. A donation has been made in your name.”

or

“Uh, thanks. I got your sanctioned Amazon list and here is the precise item from the link you sent me.”

or

“Here is a gift card in exchange for the gift card you gave me.  Let’s admit we don’t know the essence of one another.”

Communicating is hard enough using words, but using Circuit City to express your sentiments is even more complicated. This Christmas I am using my words to convey my feelings toward friends and family. (Well, expect for all the J.Crew gift cards I sent to nieces and nephews.  It is too weird to explain the Christmas boycott to young relatives you only see once a year.)

Comments

[Avery]

Wow! Your mom actually cries if she doesn't get what she was hoping for? That must have been a terrible burden on you growing up! I'm sorry Christmas is like that for you.

I also hate the commercial aspect of Christmas, but it seems like there's no way of getting around it (besides boycotting it, of course). I used to obsess about everything, too, but since having my son, I've learned to appreciate the season anew.

My in-laws used to bury him in piles of gifts every year, which he had no interest in. So we made it a rule a few years ago that they were not allowed to get him more than 2 moderately priced gifts. Any more than that, and they were donated to charity. As it is, we go through his toys right before Christmas and donate half of them to Goodwill. Now that he's old enough to understand, he likes to help us. I really hope this will help instill in him a sense of giving associated with Christmas.

For what it's worth, I hope your holidays are wonderful, however you choose to spend them!

[Holmes]

My mother goes slightly insane at all gift-giving occasions for our two year old son, her grandchild, even though we've asked her to relax and stop being so stuff-oriented. This Christmas wasn't too bad, but we'll still be donating some of his toys to charity to even things out.

Happy holidays!

[Milander]

Couldn't agree with you more, here in Hungary we have two occasions (can't spell christmassessss) one is St. Nicholas day the other christmas itself. Children get small gifts on both occasions just two, maybe three, presents. They may be expensive but there is not the greed or the quantity which seems to be the norm in both the UK and the USA. I recently read on BBC that the average family of two kids will open 126 gifts at christmas time - I was WTF! when I read it but a second later I remembered my own UK christmas times as a child and recalled opening at least 30 gifts...

Anyway, glad you've managed to escape the madness of it all and just remember to give at least a few gifts to show you care but at the same time don't be afraid to eschew anything you feel is repugnant about this time of year.

Our gifts to family this year were precisely ONE - a 1 gb pendrive with thoughtfully chosen pictures of our children and us, some music we thought they'd like, a few home movies and (for my younger brothers who got their drives seperately) some other stuff which my parents probably wouldn't approve of ;-)

Sincerly, Happy Christmas to you and a Happy New Year.