Like many Americans today, our family has a "luxurious problem" which is a foreign concept to much of the world outside of America: Having more stuff than we really need or even want anymore. In our family's ongoing quest to live a greener existence, we not only are dramatically decreasing our spending and acquiring, but also are finding new homes for our things. This is a time-consuming but worthwhile effort: responsibly passing on stuff (not junk, but unwanted things) to appropriate places: libraries, animal shelters, goodwill bins for clothes and toys, school rummage sales, second-hand shops, etc. And yet...here comes the holiday season, the time of year when we typically (*sigh*) get more stuff!
My husband and I don't want gifts anymore, but with two young children (ages 5 and 8), it would be a bit Scrooge-y of us to make them go giftless at the holidays just because we've chosen that path for ourselves. Still, our household has far too many toys already. We trip over them on a daily basis. (I've even broken a toe.) We want to stem the tide of playthings, as well as pass on the value system to our children that (1) we should help those who are less fortunate; (2) they can't have everything they ask for; and (3) they should appreciate the gifts they do receive, as well as the things they already have.
One of my favorite children's books that nicely illustrates this last point is I Love You, Blue Kangaroo, in which a little girl who has a special stuffed animal (the eponymous kangaroo) soon forgets all about it because she is deluged with new stuffies from various relatives and family friends. In the end, she realizes that her blue kangaroo is all she really needs and wants, and gives the rest of the stuffies to her baby brother, who had seized upon the forgotten kangaroo. Now, whenever one of our children squeals for a new stuffed animal in a store, we just ask, "Okay, so which one of your stuffed animals do you want to give away to make room for it?" and the matter drops, as if by magic.
Because we've made peace with the fact that some new stuff will be coming through the door this holiday season, we've set up a few green rules for the gifts:
1) Gifts will be earth-friendly. We don't want any of our gifts to have a negative impact on the planet, so right off the bat, that rules out anything plastic or anything that requires batteries. We're giving each child a classic, vintage gift. For our son who has become a chess aficianado, we're looking for a quality, vintage wooden set on eBay. For my daughter, I recently found a perfectly lovely dollhouse, free of damage but in need of a little updating, that somebody had put out next to their trash. I'm refurbishing it and will post about that process at a later date.
2) At least two gifts will be charitable. We're continuing the tradition of letting each of our children pick a gift for one of our favorite charities: Heifer International. Gifts range from a flock of chickens to provide eggs and ongoing income for a needy family, to a sheep who will provide wool to sell at markets, to a water buffalo who will help with the laborious work of farming for a whole village. I love gifts that truly keep on giving, and my children genuinely enjoy selecting a gift from Heifer.
3) No TV or movie merchandise. I got this idea from a wise book I read recently called Simplicity Parenting: Using the Extraordinary Power of Less to Raise Calmer, Happier, and More Secure Kids by Kim John Payne and Lisa M. Ross (2010, Ballantine Books). At the authors' suggestion, once I had rounded up and donated all of the licensed merchandise (much of it was cheap plastic made in China), I realized we had been reeled in to the whole marketing machine. It's fine to watch the movie or see the show, but paying for the related books, games, and plastic characters that go with them? Not anymore.
4) Gifts will be meaningful and memorable. Lately, our children have really upped the ante on sibling rivalry, so my husband and I have decided to give each child a dedicated afternoon with one of us, with our completely focused attention (that includes no mindless checking of emails and headlines). "An Afternoon with Mom" will include lunch out with just that child (not McDonald's, but not the Four Seasons either), and an activity of the child's choice. Same goes for "An Afternoon with Dad." Then we'll swap kids on another day. We really should be doing this anyway on a regular basis--giving each child two or three hours of our undivided attention, so that he or she can have a heart-to-heart chat with Mom or Dad, without the other sibling bucking for attention. The holidays seem like the perfect time to start this tradition.
As I wrote about in Rethinking Gifts for Children, love, time, and attention are the most precious gifts of all. We can't wrap them up in pretty paper and tie them with silky bows, but oh, how they shine!
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