Christmas Presence vs. Presents

Wisdom has prevailed over time, but Christmas used to be more about presents.

Over the years, Christmas has evolved in the Schneider household. When our children (now 20, 21 and 22) were small, the focus was on presents. And on being the first to mail out Christmas cards. On being the mom to create or find gifts that teachers wouldn't throw away. It's much different these days. But here's a glimpse into our Christmases past.

Nashville, TN - In 2000, Christmas for our family began the week after Thanksgiving, when I encouraged my daughter to whisper in Santa's ear everything her little heart desired. Sam took the suggestion to heart, and literally whispered, so I couldn't hear her list.

Over the course of the next month she managed to tell me just about everything she really wanted, including a tea set and a new Barbie. Trouble was, my little 5 year-old didn't specify what kind of Barbie she wanted.

Fast forward to Christmas morning. Sam - thanks to Santa, grandparents and aunts and uncles - received FIVE Barbies! She squealed with delight each time a new Barbie appeared.

"Bobbie (that's Barbie in 5 year-old language) wif a baby sistuh!" she exclaimed.

"Sweeping Booty (Beauty) Bobbie!" Sam was in heaven. And I was laughing hysterically, wondering if there really was a sweeping booty Barbie.

After it was all over (at approximately 7:15 a.m.), Sam sat in the middle of the floor, surrounded by Barbies, dress-up clothes, and computer games. Oddly enough, however, there wasn't a smile to be found. Instead, fake whimpers were emanating from her face. (I predicted an Oscar nomination for my overly dramatic daughter in the next 20 years or so.)

"Sam, what's wrong?" I asked, bewildered.
"Santa forgot," she sighed heavily.
"Forgot what?" again, still bewildered.
"Flippin' Bobbie!" she exclaimed in a 'Gee, Mom, don't you know anything?' tone of voice.
   
Here's where my imagination kicked into overdrive, and the mommy part left my body, replaced by a super hero known as Sarcastic Woman.

Who on earth was Flippin' Barbie? Was she a biker babe or a driver consumed with road rage who extended her middle finger to anyone at the drop of a hat? Could she be some foul-mouthed creation of a disgruntled Mattel employee that uttered things like, "That flippin' Ken! He's never on time."
   
At times, Sarcastic Woman got the best of me, and I giggled out loud. Not the best decision at that point in time.
   
"Stop waffing!" my daughter said, completely disgusted with me.
   
Evidently, flippin' Barbie was some sort of gymnast with a remote control. She retailed for about $24.95 - $29.95, if you could find her. So that was the secret present Sam had wished for.
   
Trying to explain to a 5 year-old that she was behaving like a spoiled brat, and that she should be extremely thrilled with her Christmas haul was like trying to morph myself into the body of Barbie. I even got to the point of threatening to take away her new Barbies and give them to children who have no dolls.
   
Eventually, everyone calmed down, and all in all, it was a joyous day for the entire family. So it wasn't a "Little House on the Prairie" Christmas I was hoping for. I vowed the next year would be different.
   
"We'll focus more on presence and not so much on presents," I muttered to myself. First things first, though. Sam spent a week with her Grandma after that Christmas, and I thought a small gift would make the separation easier. I was off to find another flippin' Barbie.