iBlog, iPod
One of my friends was lamenting today that her mother-in-law spent approximately $1000 on toys for her children – both under the age of 3. Yes, 3, not 30. It is, as she said, ridiculous, and she doesn’t know how to make it stop.
I agree that it’s ridiculous. Nobody should spend that kind of money on a toddler. Hell, I’m in my thirties and I don’t think anybody should spend that kind of money on me. It’s Christmas, for goodness sake, it’s not even like you do anything special to merit a gift. The gift part is supposed to be fun, not a competition – not to show off, as in my friend’s case, from one grandparent over the other, or as in the case of other friends, to make sure that your child goes to school with better presents than everyone else. What does that say about our society, and our priorities, that we’re willing to spend the equivalent of mortgage payments on one day of presents? It’s nuts.
That said, we spent more money on each other and the girls this year than in years past. I can’t think of a Christmas, in the ten years of Christmases that we have spent together, that we have ever been what I’ll call “extravagant” – this year was as close as it comes in my book. But I still feel good about it. We bought meaningful presents for each other and for the girls, not just toys that will be thought about for a few moments and then discarded.
The two biggies for the girls were a guitar for Katie – a real guitar, not a toy one, because she is so fascinated with her dad’s guitar, and because it’s what she asked Santa for. It was one of the kid-sized ones and we got it at a music store. She loves it and has already given us several performances already, followed up with her usual “Thank you, thank you soooo much.”
The other “biggie” was a dollhouse. It required assembly, which meant that there was a lot of swearing on Christmas Eve. There were drills and screwdrivers lying on the floor of the living room while Chris, reading the directions for our Australian made dollhouse, made comments like “There’s a reason you never hear about Australian engineering.”
The dollhouse, I must say, is beautiful. And it was the first thing that Katie saw while coming down the stairs on Christmas morning. “A house, Mommy, a house!” she said, as she ran down the stairs.
Both girls love it and they have played with it quite a bit. Me too. I can’t help it. The tiny little dollhouse furniture is too cute. I am also learning some insight into how my girls’ minds work by checking out the furniture re-arranging that has been going on, and who has stopped by for a visit.
Santa has been locked in the china cabinet and been de-robed and stuffed in the bathtub. This makes sense, as, quite frankly, Katie is not a big Santa fan (loves the presents, is suspicious of the character).
One of the gingerbread men has spent the entire day on the potty. Again, makes sense as Katie is making a concerted effort to potty train. And, as there is only one of the gingerbread men in the bathroom, my guess is that he needs his privacy. “Go away, Mommy,” Katie will yell from the potty, “I’m dizzy” (meaning busy, in case you’re concerned about chemicals in my bathroom). So, she’s very into one person in the bathroom at all times.
My youngest daughter, Amy, keeps trying to sleep on the doll bed. The doll bed is about 4 inches long. Amy is petite, but not that petite.
The kitchen and the dining rooms are the least popular rooms in the house. The only person allowed in the kitchen, for some odd reason, is the angel from the crèche, who keeps watch over the kitchen table at all hours.
Mary, also from the crèche, has gone missing. She had been hanging around the dollhouse earlier. I saw Santa on the coffee table, so I checked the china cabinet on a hunch, but came up empty.
All of the other members of the Christmas story are at their posts inside and around the stable (though the humans remain outside – except for baby Jesus – while the camel and donkey are inside; the sheep must stay with the Magi) – the only two who are allowed to stray from the crèche to the dollhouse are Mary and the angel. It’s all very complicated.
They love the dollhouse, and so do I. I think it encourages imagination and I expect that they will get lots of use out of it. It was money well spent.
Also money well spent was Chris’ gift to me: when I opened it and saw what it was, I started freaking out. Chris’ aunt said, hopefully, “He got you a diamond tennis bracelet?” and I said, no, sniffling, “An iPod.” Aunt Diane was thrown by this. She told Lisa, “I’ve never seen her get emotional, and she got emotional over an iPod?” But no, not just any iPod. A video iPod. And not just any video iPod. Chris had transferred a movie that he made of the girls onto it, complete with music, and all of our photo library “best of” pictures of the girls. I never carry pictures of the girls because I can’t think to put a brag book in my bag since my bags are always changing – but the iPod is only as big as my cell phone and has all of the pictures I could want. So, I showed them to Aunt Diane – and those of the family who had been in California. And today, Kristin saw the movie and the pictures – she doesn’t “do” the internet, so she’s not seen any of the digital ones that Chris has posted. It’s such a great gift, it’s my own computerized photo album. I completely adore it.
All of the other gifts from family and friends were likewise thoughtful – from gardening books to sewing baskets. It was a good Christmas, not because it was thousands of dollars of presents (which it wasn’t) but because each person seemed to think about the other when choosing something, a real gift that meant something, not just a gift for the sake of buying a present.
Sometimes when we get all caught up in the gift-giving extravaganza that has become Christmas, we forget about the whole point of buying someone a present – not to fill their house with “stuff” but to say “I love you” or “I’m thinking about you.” And I think, on the latter, we did pretty well.