It’s not the thought, it’s the gift that counts
Are We There Yet?
Lori Clinch

It’s Christmastime, and for me the season officially arrived the second I heard that dang dog barking out “Jingle Bells” on the radio. Oh, the unadulterated bliss.

The big day is just around the corner, and I’m taking every shortcut available to me. I’m regifting last year’s fruitcake, I’ve let nature trim the house, and with a little luck the Christmas tree will snow on itself.

The smartest thing I did was to cut out the Christmas baking. My defense is that I’m thinking of my family’s health. It seems to be working splendidly despite the fact that one of the children is standing in the kitchen dressed as a bowl of lettuce and holding a handmade sign that reads, “High Cholesterol Tests Are the Work of the Devil.”

I couldn’t swear to it in a court of law, but I’m fairly certain that the handwriting is his father’s.

Gift exchanging seems to be on everyone’s mind. Even my handsome and loving spouse seems to be tossing it around.

“What would you like for Christmas this year?” he asked me as he balanced the checkbook.

My mind raced as I thought of candlelight and little boxes, and the commercial where a wife steps out into a clean garage sporting fresh makeup and silk jammies as her husband surprises her with a new car.

I was about to plant a kiss on my beloved spouse and blurt out a list when he said, “And let’s not forget the new fuel pump we just installed on your Suburban.”

My guess is we won’t be having a diamond moment under the mistletoe this year.

Yet, I’ll not complain. It turns out that the gifts I give may not be much better. In fact, my family has reported that when it comes to giving presents, I am the world’s worst. In my defense, that Salad Shooter was a great price and you have to know that it was appreciated when their crayon sharpener bit the dust.

Last year I took advantage of every Christmas sale. I swept up the clearance racks, stocked up on memo pads and was thrilled when I discovered red pillowcases for the children’s beds were being offered at bargain-basement prices.

I also kept in mind that they wanted a CD, an MP3, and one child even asked for a portable CD with an MP3 that can play anything downloaded from the old PC. I even had a child who requested a DVD that’s both AC and DC.

Would anyone care to buy a vowel?

I purchased with a vengeance, wrapped with a smile and crawled into bed on Christmas Eve with visions of microchips dancing in my head.

I could barely wait for the children to get up. I’ve always loved the Christmas morning pitter-patter and the giggling that can be heard around the tree long before dawn, as the kids realize that Santa came.

Dark and early on Christmas morning 2004, somewhere between the hours of 3-5 a.m., I awoke to a precious face and a large pair of eyes that were extremely close to mine.

“Mom,” the precious face whispered. “Mom, can little Charlie and I open a present?”

“What time is it?” I asked as I was being pulled into the moment.

“It’s Christmastime!” they exclaimed as they scampered away. I smiled despite myself. In my mind’s eye, I saw them under the tree searching for the perfect gift to open. A new controller for their PS-2, a new CD or if they played their cards right, they could very well be out there pulling out the MP3 with great hopes that it’ll also play their DVDs.

When I heard them come back into the room, I was so excited that I could barely contain myself. They stood at the foot of the bed tearing open the packages with frenzy.

“Pillowcases?” little Charlie exclaimed into the night. “You bought me pillowcases?”

“What kind of thought process leads up to buying pillowcases for a kid?” echoed his older brother as he opened his very own set.

“You bought the boys pillowcases?” inquired my husband, who had been sawing logs up until that moment. “What’d you get me, guest towels?”

And that concludes the memories of Christmas 2004. When they reflect on Christmases past, and you know they will, the little ingrates will always remember 2004 as the year the old gal tried to buy them off with pillowcases.

I can barely wait until the wee hours of Christmas 2005 when they awake to discover that dear old Mommy bought them the flat sheets that match.