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November
2008 | By Piper Underwood
 Every
year starting in
about October,
I feel this overwhelming
sense of dread over
the impending holidays,
the imminent onslaught
of “stuff”,
the million little
pieces destined
to co-mingle. Step
one: Purge.
This
year my anxiety began
in September. I vow
to give gifts imbued
with meaning. I dread
this time of year. Usually
dread and uncertainty
go hand in hand, but
not in this case: I
am certain my anxiety
stems from the expectation
of arriving at Christmas
with perfectly wrapped
gifts, perfectly coifed
hair and dry armpits.
I’m
sorry, but this is just
unrealistic.
I
make a head count of
potential recipients.
It comes to 30. I panic.
I make lists. I lose
lists. Step two: Edit.
Thankfully,
on my side of the family,
adults now draw names
for gifts. I scratch
3 people off my list.
(That feels good.) On
my husband’s
side, we have forgone
giving gifts to the
adults altogether, with
the exception of Edna,
who pushes some chocolate
covered nuts on me,
and then eagerly awaits
reciprocation. I scarf
them down guiltily.
7 more people gone;
and I guarantee you
with the exception of
Edna, all seven are
relieved. I’m
down to 20.
In
addition to shrinking
the number of recipients,
I start thinking about
my gifts earlier in
the season. As I sit
typing this, it is only
September 28th, and
already my skin is showing
manifestations of my
internal stress. Step
three: Plan ahead.
I
figure out early what
I want to give my girlfriends
when I see a neighbor
creating ceramic pots
in her garden. For each
friend, my neighbor
creates 4 lovely, personalized
ceramic vases. Girlfriends,
check!
Only
17 more to go!
In
my search for the perfect
gift, I am reminded
of a friend who gave
coupons to her 13 nieces
and nephews on their
special days. She was
a teacher which makes
her both crafty and
frugal. The coupons
are redeemable for everything
from “Movie
Nights” to “A
Day at the Beach.” I
think of what kind of
coupon I might make
for my husband: “This
coupon is good for...” Maybe
coupons are more suitable
for children.
In
this case, less really
is more.
So,
if you are reading this,
and you are thinking
about giving my children
something with a million
little pieces, please
don’t.
Take them to see The
Grinch down
at the Old Globe instead.
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