The gifts we give
When I got married in 2006, I was a "mature" bride. By that time I had attended so many weddings I lost count of how many wedding registries I had shopped from. I was always amazed at some of the things these fresh-faced couples would register for. Does anyone ever actually use a quesadilla maker? Or a soup tureen? Who am I, the Queen of England?
Full Disclosure: I actually registered for a soup tureen and received it. I also received a quesadilla maker. I used neither and gave both to Goodwill.
When my soon-to-be husband and I were registering for our wedding, however, it was like all logic fell out of our brains after the sales associate handed us the registry scanner. "Gravy boat? Check. Ooooh! How about that pretty soup tureen? That's so fancy!"
To be completely honest, I don't exactly have "soup tureen DNA" pumping through my veins. My people are more of the "we hate washing extra dishes" variety and just serve our soup in the pot we cooked it in. And it's not like this was some big revelation after seeing the soup tureen sitting on a shelf, totally unused for nearly a decade. I was a 34-year old who had lived on my own for almost ten years and knew exactly how much I disliked doing extra dishes. There was no real chance that my lack of fancy presentation had anything to do with a heretofore lack of fancy dishes -- it was, however, attributable to my heretofore lack of desire to do extra work. When the registry "gun" was in my hands that afternoon I felt invincible, like I really could be one of those fancy-presentation people and that a soup tureen would be a great addition to my tiny kitchen.
Looking back on the soup tureen and so many other items I registered for and received back in 2006, I realize that I wasn't wise in the gift list I created for my friends and family to shop from. If I had really been honest, I would have registered for an ice cream machine, a milkshake mixer, a pancake griddle (and, probably, a membership to Weight Watchers).
Now that I have kids, I see the same wish list pattern with them at holiday and birthday time. They often ask for items that they've seen at a friend's house or at the mall. At the time their teenage eyeballs laid eyes on said items, it was love at first sight and they imagined how happy they would be with that object. Year after year, though, I've shopped from their lists and found that they almost always fall out of love within days or weeks of owning the new item. How many big-eyed beanie babies does one child need? They line a shelf in her closet, never touched or played with -- mostly forgotten until I tell her to clean out her closet. Or my 15-year old might ask for a cool new pair of high-tops like the one she saw on TV, only to realize they aren't actually that comfortable. In the closet, months later, those shoes are preserved in pristine, museum-like condition.
Some gifts never make it off the list and under the tree. I always ask myself a few questions before giving my children gifts:
Full Disclosure: I actually registered for a soup tureen and received it. I also received a quesadilla maker. I used neither and gave both to Goodwill.
When my soon-to-be husband and I were registering for our wedding, however, it was like all logic fell out of our brains after the sales associate handed us the registry scanner. "Gravy boat? Check. Ooooh! How about that pretty soup tureen? That's so fancy!"
To be completely honest, I don't exactly have "soup tureen DNA" pumping through my veins. My people are more of the "we hate washing extra dishes" variety and just serve our soup in the pot we cooked it in. And it's not like this was some big revelation after seeing the soup tureen sitting on a shelf, totally unused for nearly a decade. I was a 34-year old who had lived on my own for almost ten years and knew exactly how much I disliked doing extra dishes. There was no real chance that my lack of fancy presentation had anything to do with a heretofore lack of fancy dishes -- it was, however, attributable to my heretofore lack of desire to do extra work. When the registry "gun" was in my hands that afternoon I felt invincible, like I really could be one of those fancy-presentation people and that a soup tureen would be a great addition to my tiny kitchen.
Looking back on the soup tureen and so many other items I registered for and received back in 2006, I realize that I wasn't wise in the gift list I created for my friends and family to shop from. If I had really been honest, I would have registered for an ice cream machine, a milkshake mixer, a pancake griddle (and, probably, a membership to Weight Watchers).
Now that I have kids, I see the same wish list pattern with them at holiday and birthday time. They often ask for items that they've seen at a friend's house or at the mall. At the time their teenage eyeballs laid eyes on said items, it was love at first sight and they imagined how happy they would be with that object. Year after year, though, I've shopped from their lists and found that they almost always fall out of love within days or weeks of owning the new item. How many big-eyed beanie babies does one child need? They line a shelf in her closet, never touched or played with -- mostly forgotten until I tell her to clean out her closet. Or my 15-year old might ask for a cool new pair of high-tops like the one she saw on TV, only to realize they aren't actually that comfortable. In the closet, months later, those shoes are preserved in pristine, museum-like condition.
Some gifts never make it off the list and under the tree. I always ask myself a few questions before giving my children gifts:
- Do this item have genuine potential to be used/worn/played with more than a couple of times?
- Does it make any obnoxious noises or have potential to be used to annoy others (or me)?
- Will this item cause an epidemic of irrational jealousy in the sister who doesn't receive this item but wishes she had asked for one, too?
- Is this item something that will take up precious space in the child's bedroom or be displayed in such a way that looks unpleasing to my eyes every time I have to see it? Example: My youngest child came home from a book fair with some posters that she wanted to hang front-and-center in her bedroom...except that the posters were color schemes that clashed with each other and with the existing decor scheme in her room.
- Will this gift result in crafted items that the child will want to have displayed or used somewhere else in the house -- and am I going to be okay with this until said child turns 18 and moves into her own place? Example: Someone bought my child one of those craft kits to create hot pads out of a material that is essentially the same as pantyhose. She was so proud of her craft that she couldn't wait to see them on display in the kitchen and used for every meal.
This year, my 13-year old made a very short list and allowed me to buy things for her that I thought she would actually like. She is right on the developmental fence between childhood toys and teenage angst, so I didn't want to invest in gifts I knew she would grow out of within a few months. Because she loves art and using a million pieces of paper to write poems, note interesting facts, copy jokes and riddles, and otherwise log every thought she might think is worth remembering, I decided to get her a gift to allow all that creativity a suitable home. I bought one of those Rubbermaid stacking drawers and loaded the two shallow drawers with all sorts of paper, sticky notes, cool markers, glue sticks, and craft tape. The other two drawers, which are deeper, are for storing all her papers instead of having them shoved into old shoeboxes in the closet. This gift combines her love of creating things with her love of organizing everything. She was thrilled! And the best part: It makes no noise, can't be used to annoy others, doesn't spill anything out into the rest of the living space, and is something her older sister will never be jealous of!
I wish that every year offered such an opportunity to shop for what my children actually will enjoy, rather than what they think they want in the heat of the moment after seeing something sparkly at the mall. Then again, I was a 34-year old bride with a registry gun and a soup tureen, so maybe I should lower my expectations for my children.
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