A Jen Too Many

I am having what I consider to be a surprisingly successful Christmas this year. Which is surprising because I started the season off with bad news about someone dear to me, and I was as far from the Christmas spirit as I have ever been in my life. Putting up decorations, playing carols, wrapping presents, messing with a tree - the last things I wanted to do. Curling up on my bed and being sad and weepy - very much what I was in the mood for.

Other people in my family (especially the smallish ones) would not have understood that, however, so I did it all anyway, gritting my teeth and feeling sorry for myself. I am now relieved to find, though, that my Christmas spirit has revived a little. I don't do well at faking being cheerful.

Sadly, I have to confess that my definition of Christmas success = "Getting everyone presents that will make them happy." Very shallow, I know. Come on, though - don't you hate having to get a present because it's expected, but you don't have a clue what to get? And you wind up getting something, anything!, to stick in the middle of a bunch of pretty paper, but you know as you're wrapping that it doesn't matter how many bows and ribbons you stick on the outside, or how shiny the paper is, the recipient is still going to give you that Christmas morning grimace that says, "I am disappointed and my feelings are hurt, but I don't want to make you feel bad, so I'm going to pretend I like this ... thing ... you gave me."

No, really, truly, I do love Christmas! I love shiny paper, and yummy smelling trees, and glittery stuff everywhere. I just find presents stressful, especially since Certain Members of my family will never tell me what they would like. If I ask (and I ask every year, in forlorn hope) I just get a shrug and the response, "Oh, whatever you get me will be nice."

Must. Kill.

It makes me paranoid enough that I tend to eye them beadily all year long waiting for any hint that might give me a clue as to what they might like. Not that it does me much good. If they do like something, they either go out and buy it for themselves before I can do anything, or it's something so esoteric that I can't remember what it is long enough to find it online. Or it turns out to be several lightyears out of my price range.

It's so much easier buying for small children. The only problem there is restraining myself from getting all the cool! shiny! fun! toys!*

This year, though!! This year I have been amazingly lucky in spotting great possibilities. Also both the girls have gotten old enough to seriously participate in picking out presents, and it turns out Youngest Girl Child has an uncanny, and possibly illegal, talent for figuring out exactly what any given person in the family wants most. I am overjoyed and intend to have her give me lessons as soon as she is old enough to know what lessons are.

This is why you have children - the hope of someday being able to mooch off their talents. It's all so very, very heartwarming.
___________________________________________

*Repeat after me, 200 times: I must not spoil the children. It will lead to life-long difficulties for them. I must be a Mean Mommy. I must impose limits and allow reasonable (but not dangerous!) natural consequences to smack them in the head on a regular basis. No rescuing. No saving. No playing Mother Bountiful. I am not playing with dolls. I am raising future adults. I will teach them to be strong, capable, and independent if it kills me - and it might.