Last year, my family decided that for Christmas, we would all make each other presents. By “my family decided” you might suppose that there was some sort of democratic vote. Not really. Perhaps a treaty reached by the negotiations of elected representatives? Wrong again. It was more of a “council of wise elders” kind of thing. In short, by “my family decided” I mean everyone but me made this decision and then informed me of it.
Generally, I’m into making Christmas presents. Last year was a little tricky as I had a newborn and Shawn and I were still rookies at this juggling of home, hobbies, and work business. I had a few presents already bought prior to this family edict, which I obediently tucked away or gifted to other friends. I then formed moderately grand plans for Christmas projects that fell by the wayside as Christmas approached and I realized the unrealistic nature of my scheme. In the end, I scraped something together that was satisfactory but not stellar.
So this year, I was ready. I started making Christmas presents in July. By August, I had a small list of projects going, and some even completed, boxed, wrapped, and tagged.
Then my family decides (once again without my consent) that there will be no presents this year. We will celebrate Christmas in a non-commercial manner. Presents only for the little ones. How very PC of you.
For the record, I would like to state that I get the uncommercial family gathering thing. I really do. I don’t much care for the I-need-to-find-some-useless-trinket-to-buy-for-so-and-so-at-the-mall deal. But it seems to me that the giving of gifts should be up to the giver and not the receiver. If you want to give big gifts or little gifts or no gifts at all, that is your business. You ought not to expect people to respond with your rule set, but if you can cope with that, proceed as you will.
When this new law (let’s call it Byrne Family Bill 122507) came at me down the family pipeline this year, I attempted to accept it as graciously as possible. I even succeeded, I think, for a short span of time. I looked, albeit a little crestfallen, at my little stack of ready and waiting goodies. I supposed I could re-gift that one to this friend and save this one for a future birthday. Then I looked at a larger project I’d been working on. This gift, which shall remain unidentified, is one I’ve been laboring on since July. Everyday since July. I’ve put a lot of love and toil into this one. And standing there holding it, as I believe Ralphie Parker put it, somewhere deep inside of me a tiny flame began to grow.
Rules? On Christmas?! Who gets to make up rules for Christmas? Unless you’re a big, red, fat guy squeezing yourself down my chimney, I don’t consider you a Christmas authority and I’m not taking your orders. No presents? No boxes? No bags? No ribbons or wrappings or tags? Did anyone tell Dr. Seuss that you guys impeached the Grinch and took up his seat on Mount Krumpit? (And don’t tell me that wasn’t the point of that little story or I’ll tell you exactly where you can put that last can of who-hash.)
I looked at my wrapping paper and I looked at my little pile of presents. Then I looked at the telephone.
“Hi. Mom? I’ve been thinking about this Christmas thing and I’ve come to a decision. No. That’s right, No. There are no rules on Christmas the way there is no crying in baseball and if I want to make you guys presents that’s really none of your business and I’m going to do it whether you like or not and you all can accept them and be gracious about it, or not, and you can quote me on that.”
I think I said it all in one long sentence in something of the same stubborn tone in which I explained to my parents that I intended never to learn to ride a bicycle, that papaya is disgusting and I refuse to eat it, and that my first computer would be an Apple and I don’t care if they do go out of business and I can’t buy software for it anymore. (As an aside, I’ve held firm on the latter two to this day, and I put in a stubborn performance on the bicycle thing for years before recanting.)
The Shannon has spoken. Moo.
Funny enough, my mom didn’t sound nearly so surprised as I thought she might. She sounded as if she had expected this sort of speech and foot stomping the first time we discussed this topic. I was informed that it was okay by her and that she would relate my opinions–verbatim even–at the next family gathering.
It then occurred to me that I picked up this interest in the acquiring of presents and wrapping of boxes from someone, after all.
Family has an amazing way of humbling you in the least suspecting moments.
So Christmas is back on, at least from this house it is. Grinches beware. This Who is guarding her Christmas trappings with a poised baseball bat.