Okay, so there are like 23 more shopping minutes until Christmas. I have this uneasy feeling I forgot something (read: many things) and there’s going to be a mad Christmas Eve dash to CVS where I will have the choice of a candy cane-scented perfume set with matching Christmas socks or some picked-over, dented boxes of chocolate. I would say it’s the thought that counts, but since I’ll be there due to the fact that someone was forgotten, I suppose that argument is invalid.
This is very unlike me. Usually, I’m done shopping by December 1. I use the last weekends before the big day to make homemade gifts, bake our favorite treats and wrap all the treasures I found. I am the picture of efficiency and holiday joy. When I talk to others and they ask me how it’s going, my calm and prepared state has them glaring at me behind a very fake, congratulatory smile.
This year, I’m the one gritting my teeth in a Clint Eastwood grin while contemplating how un-Christmas like it would be to break into their house and steal their all-wrapped-and-ready-to-go packages. All I can say is thank God for two-day shipping.
I don’t like to be all jealous and Grinchy. I love this time of year with all the joyful songs and pretty lights, the warm Christmas spirit and the beyond-excited kids. I’m even faking it pretty well. The house is decorated, my Pandora Christmas station is playing constantly and I’ve just about finished and mailed all 80 cards.
But things are in disarray. I don’t have a list with all the recipients, in family age order, and their respective gifts. I’m not sure how much wrapping paper is left from last year and if there will be enough tissue paper. For all I know, I’ll have to use white mailing labels to address the packages. And forget that curling ribbon crap. I’ll leave that to Martha Stewart’s elves. It always excruciating to watch someone open those gifts anyway, with the awkward silence that occurs while they valiantly try to break the ribbon that couldn’t hold the weight of a stocking hung by the chimney with care, but takes on the strength of steel once tied around a damn box.
None of this lack of preparation phases Brian one iota. He’s not really a shopper. I do all the holiday purchases and wrapping. It’s a self-imposed job that I take on for the happiness of everyone, but mostly my happiness.
Brian rarely buys anything. He wants for very little and is happy with what he does have. Until he’s not. Until he decides he wants something. And when that happens, it’s not a sweatshirt or watch, it’s a boat. And regardless of what I think or say, somehow, we end up with a freaking boat. Every. Time.
When we were newly married and juggling our first mortgage, he discussed buying a fish finder device for his boat (no really, he’s had like three boats since we’ve been married.) We reviewed our budget and decided on an amount he could spend. I let him go alone, which was my first mistake. This is a man who has ordered countless useless items from infomercials and when we were still childless, signed us up for a 25-pound-per-month meat delivery program. Anyway, he came home with a GPS (this was still a new technology at that point) that was seven times more then the agreed upon amount. I might still be paying that credit card bill.
So this year, when Brian came up with a brilliant idea for the kid’s Christmas gifts, I did a bunch of research. It’s always good to be an informed customer. You know, so you don’t end up with a six pound rump roast when you’re a vegetarian. Armed with our extensive information, we headed out to shop. But first, we had to have a pep talk. I held his shoulders. I forced him to make eye contact. I was gentle, but firm.
“This is an exploratory mission. We are not going to buy anything yet.”
(eyes dart away)
“We need to see how much it will cost, then come home and discuss it.”
(sheepish grin)
“Do you understand me?”
“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not answering the question. Answer the question. Do you understand me? Do you understand that we are not buying anything?”
A resigned sigh and non-committal nod later, and we were on our way.
I have to say, I was quite proud. The product was excellent. The price was more than reasonable. And though there were a couple of “Come on! Are we really not buying this right now? Let’s buy this right now!” stares, he eventually told the shop keeper that we would have to discuss it and get back to him. I think it was my gentle-but-firm tactic.
Of course, we ended up buying it, but the restraint shown by Brian was unprecedented. He waited the whole one mile drive home before he called, committed to the purchase and ran back out to the bank to get the deposit. That’s real progress.
When I finally find time to wrap everything up in festive paper or shiny bags, Brian is not allowed to help. The man thinks it is totally acceptable to roll a gift in newspaper, crunch up the ends and wrap it in tape like he’s winding a ball of yarn. It’s frightening to behold.
I’m even leery of letting him write the gift tags. One year, the presents under the tree (and in the hands of nieces, nephews and in-laws) were said to have come from a variety of holiday entities including: just two of the Wise Men, Jesus’s donkey, the heartless innkeeper and so on. It’s his sense of humor that makes him so likable (and has kept him alive all these years.)
Wrapping gifts isn’t really my favorite task either. I get a little twitch as the pile of discarded paper and tissue pile up during the unwrapping frenzy. I frantically run from person to person with a bag for garbage and a box for paper recycling. It takes the fun out of gift opening when I’ve got my head buried in red and green tissue paper and miss the looks of joy and surprise on the kid’s faces.
When I found out that tissue paper isn’t recyclable anyway, I started switching to brown paper that you can buy in big rolls for mailing packages. I can let the kids draw/paint/stamp etc., or just leave it plain and buy real ribbon, not that oddly powerful curling kind, that ties and unties easily and can also be reused.
But I’m not very artsy, so I was glad when I stumbled upon this link (http://inhabitat.com/6-eco-friendly-gift-wrap-alternatives/) that offers suggestions for six eco-friendly alternatives to traditional wrapping paper. The first one is fabric wrap and I’m kind of loving that idea. I just have to learn to tie some pretty knots (is that a thing?). I’ll let you know how it goes. Unless it looks like a kindergartener did it. Then I’ll just lie and tell you I didn’t have time to try it out.
However you wrap you presents (or don’t wrap your presents), have a very merry Christmas, a happy Hanukah, a wonderful Kwanza, and a great Festivus for the rest of us!
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