It's Christmastime (yes, time--no American consumer would be naive enough to think that Christmas is a one-day event) once again. The difference this year is that for the first time in a decade, I'm actually looking forward to it.
When I was growing up, my family celebrated the holiday in a small, relaxed way. On Christmas Day, our grandparents and aunt came over for a midafternoon dinner. There were enough presents, but never too many. We'd open one gift at a time to make the magic feeling last longer. When my sister and I were in college, we'd pool the money from our part-time jobs so that we could buy quality presents for each person. We'd slam through the mall after finals and get everything done a few days before Christmas. We never considered not buying presents for our family, but we didn't use credit cards, either. It was difficult enough to pay for tuition, so borrowing for Christmas would have been counterproductive.
Then my two sisters and I got married, and our family expanded to include new spouses and their families. Suddenly, the "small" and "relaxed" went out of Christmas. My husband and I had to buy for 10 people on his side, in addition to my relatives. Even worse, when the big day finally rolled around, there was no longer time for a midday snooze. We'd cram a visit with one half of the family into the morning, hop in the car for a 30-minute drive and squeeze in a visit with the other half in the afternoon. At each house, the presents were opened in such a frenzy that it was sometimes impossible to tell who had ended up with what. We'd end up mumbling only vague thank-yous to each other.
I was so disgusted with the holiday that I refused to put up a tree. My husband thought it was strange but didn't say much. My co-workers teased me, even giving me a six-inch frosted tree for my desk. It died.
After a few years of this, my husband and I started having children. Suddenly, it was as if a mall had puked in the living room. Consumerism had re-entered my life with a vengeance. My husband insisted we put up a tree, although I managed to skip the tinsel. Now I did my shopping with my kids in tow. You will never convince me that a day at the mall searching for "must haves" with two small children adds a fraction of value to anyone's life. I don't even remember what we bought. What I do remember is my sense of dread. This was not how Christmas was supposed to be celebrated. I did not want my children absorbing the idea that every Christmas was a jackpot.
Last year at Thanksgiving, my sisters and I were mulling over the upcoming holiday with no particular excitement when my mom suggested we have a homemade Christmas. We'd spend only what was needed to make presents and use our brains and skills for the rest. There would be no requests. The new rule would be: You Get What You Get and You're Glad About It.
It was a daunting task to come up with presents that didn't look like a third grader's class project. With only four weeks to work, the family was in a frenzy of sewing and building. My father, while glad to help, was less than thrilled about the prospect of constructing frames for magnet boards and wall mirrors in 20-degree weather. More than a few curse words were emitted during the process. ("How in the hell is stain going to set when it's snowing outside?") But mostly we were productive and happy. I wanted my 2- and 4-year-olds to learn the importance of giving, so they painted watercolor abstracts that were surprisingly good.
It was a wonderful Christmas. The kids ended up with one toy each, and, amazingly, they were fine! They played in the wrapping paper and were just happy to be with the family--setting an example for all of us.
We have decided to continue the homemade Christmas. Even with a year to plan, there has been some procrastination. I stared all summer at a neighbor's torn-down barn. It wasn't until mid-November that I grabbed a pallet out of the debris to make deadwood frames. My younger sister knitted a winter hat for every person last year; this year she will continue with scarves--now, there's a lesson in delayed gratification. There is another benefit that has come with our homemade Christmas: once the gift list was abolished, so was the greed that came with it.
This year my sense of dread is gone. I might even put up a tree before Christmas Eve. I watched the lunatics push their way into stores on Black Friday (isn't the name itself an indication of how shoppers feel?) and was relieved that I was not one of them. In fact, my mall time will be chiseled down to a few hours at most. (My husband's family draws names and sets a modest spending limit, which has also reduced the Christmas glut.) I may have finally found the meaning I was searching for, but don't expect to see an inflatable snow globe in my front yard any time soon.
Stratton lives in Berthoud, Colo.