Kerbobbled & Superfluous
With the holidays behind us and the fresh slate of a new year ahead, how soon is it okay to talk about the holidays again? It’s early January, with lights and decorations still up around the neighborhood. We’ve packed Christmas away for the season in our house, but we still have a few plaid wrapped gifts in the corner for a holiday visit that’s been delayed, and delayed.
So, maybe it’s too soon to talk about 50 weeks ahead. But, what if we’d like to do things a little differently this next time around? Maybe if we think about it as reflecting on the past or a post-project debriefing, we can change our obligations. We can make new traditions.
When it comes to Christmas time, I love watching holiday movies and seeing all the festive twinkle lights in the neighborhood. I love the fluffy December snowfalls and baking a ridiculous amount of cookies. Getting together with friends and family, and busting out my festive unicorn sweatshirt is the best. But there are also some holiday expectations I could go without.
My least favorite part of the holidays is the gift giving rituals. It’s not so much the giving gifts part of the holidays. Although, I do struggle to enjoy it when I can’t find something that feels right for someone on my list. My least favorite part of the holidays is when people give gifts to me. I know people perform the gift giving ritual with love. But I just find it so stressful.
Because of how uncomfortable this process makes me, I don’t know if it’s a blessing that my birthday and Christmas fall in the same week. On one hand, I only need to mentally prepare for opening gifts once a year. But it’s also two holidays worth of gifts smashed together. It’s a lot to handle for a person who prefers to shop for themselves and who gets stressed out by clutter.
When I was little, my lists were elaborate. I’d write down every single thing I wanted, complete with suggested retail prices. [This was the early 90s, so I really don’t know how I got my information.] Then I’d go back through the list, adding stars to the things I really wanted. Then a second star to the things I really, really wanted. And a third star, and so on. By the time I’d hand over the list to my parents, it really wasn’t that long after all. Not if you followed the code.
As a kid, I loved collecting the whole set. Beanie babies and polly pockets, movies and cds. When I got a little older, I mostly asked for clothes. Then somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting all of it. And for years now, if there is something I’d like, I’ll probably buy it for myself before you’d ever have the chance to put it on your list.
My parents say I’m hard to shop for. So does pretty much everyone else. And I’d have to agree with all of them. Buying gifts for someone who doesn’t even like them cannot be much fun. I do my best to give a few clear ideas when asked. The specific items are few and far between, but a bag of whole bean coffee from your favorite coffee shop is always a welcomed sight. So is a book you think I’d enjoy, or a candle that smells like winter pine.
To some, my suggestions of gifts I’d enjoy feel too impersonal. Like the kind of things you gift someone you don’t know well, a coworker you drew in the Secret Santa. They are genuinely my preferences, if there has to be a gift at all. Often though, when it’s the thought that counts, most people prefer showing they put in more thought than my suggestions suggest.
The holidays throw us into a tizzy. We spend so much time looking for gifts that will show the people we love just how much we love them. But my favorite holiday memories are never about the gifts. They are always about the time spent with friends and family, watching a Christmas movie with a mug of hot chocolate as the snow falls outside.
I wish when we were all kids sitting on Santa’s lap at the mall that he would have asked us what we’d like to do for Christmas instead. Maybe then our brains wouldn’t get so kerbobbled about the superfluous during the most wonderful time of the year.
Note: Thank you, Cindy Lou Who for using both kerbobbled and superfluous in How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
