Well, well. Even that clever, clever Karen Nemiah has difficulty playing Santa Claus. Thanks for the post, Karen!
Is it THAT time of the year already? THAT time when I am supposed to be prescient, generous and miraculous all at once? That seasonal sink-hole, when my kids, mostly my son, think that a gift wish list should be delivered via ESP, no earlier than the 23rd of December?
What to do?
I am shamelessly tempted when a BJ’s flyer arrives in my mailbox, offering me a chance to “Finish (my) list in one day!” Huzzah, I think momentarily. Until I realize nearly no one in my family (except maybe me) will be terribly excited about a holiday monopolized by presents in 3packs from a warehouse store.
Tossing the gift conquest aside (since skating by with IOUs under the tree is now a treasured tradition in our house), I can turn my attention to stocking stuffers. This is an area where I strut my talents with pride. I scan the stores. I shop all year. I delight in each find. Every Christmastime, the ladies at my friend’s annual wrapping party have “ooh-ed” and “ahh-ed” over my clever, nail-on-the-head finds for my kids’ stockings. “Great idea!” and “Wherever did you find that?!” inflate my ego as I devotedly wrap each special trinket with glossy paper and smug self-satisfaction. (In my house, the pressure is always on for “good” stockings…you HAVE to fill them; IOU’s will NOT do. And then there is my reputation to consider.)
It’s devastating to admit, but seems in the past year or two, no matter how clever my finds, I’m off the mark. My son opens everything dutifully, separates out the candy and leaves the rest of his hand-selected treasures in a shopping bag in a corner in his room until, say, the following June. Around then, I find myself asking him “Whatever happened to that (fill in presumedly incredibly cool thing here) you got for Christmas?” In return, I’m treated to an all encompassing, all telling: “Huh?” Lately I worry my time might be better spent abandoning these lovingly customized stockings, cherished apparently only by moi, and that I just surrender and stuff the entire bloody thing with Reeses™ (and, of course, the annual, ever-popular never-eaten orange).
BUT: the stocking tradition is near and dear to my heart and I refuse to kowtow to this subversive maneuver to derail my quest; to campaign for only candy. I seek redemption. And revenge. And this year, I’ve found a new source , ripe with “Excuse” Magic 8 Balls, Fake Vomit and Noise Machines that are SURE to be the envy of every college pal. Sorry Matt, there’s gonna be more than just Reeses™ in your stocking this year. Hope your roommates are ready.