The Christmas I Almost Became My Mother

When my parents came to visit over Halloween, my mom made the off hand comment, "I've pretty much finished Christmas shopping." On October 30th. There is seriously something wrong with that. She explained that with us coming home over Thanksgiving and a couple of December trips planned, she didn't want to feel rushed. It never does any good to remind my mother that she is retired and can shop at 11am on a Tuesday if she wants to, it won't work. She feels the pressure anyway.

I am not my mother. I am a procrastinator. With three family birthdays in November, I frankly feel pleased if I get something out for them before the end of the month and no way I am thinking about Christmas until the date starts with "12". Sure, I pick up stocking stuffers throughout the year, but nothing big. That is to be done in December, as God and Macy's decreed.

But, this week, as I found myself sitting in my still-decorated-for-Halloween home, it suddenly occurred to me... I have a lot to do! I need to get cracking on gifts, there are winter clothes to buy, there are Christmas pictures to take, Christmas cards to order, Santa to visit, not to mention decorating. I told myself that this year I would not plug in the 18" pink, Hello Kitty, fiber optic Christmas tree and tell Fin to wait for Grandma and Grandpa's house for real decorations. I have a ton of them, I just never get around to putting them out. This year, I will.

All this week I have hit the internet hard each night, browsing, comparing, changing my mind, and eventually buying necessities like winter coats and some gifts. I have been doing pretty well. Yey, me! Tonight, after Fin went in for a haircut, we swung by the mall to get her a couple of pairs of jeans. As we walked past center court, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Jolly Ol' St. Nick and line that was clear. Woo hoo! One problem... my daughter in a distinctly non-Santa shirt of brown with flowers on it.

If we were going to do this, we were going to do it right. We pulled into a Gymboree where there was a red duster sweater in Fin's size hanging on the clearance rack. (I mentioned to the saleswoman that it was odd to have a red sweater on deep discount at Christmas and she said, "That is our fall red, which is different from our winter red." Ok, weird Gymboree people. Thanks for the cheapo sweater!) I paid, asked her to cut off the tags, and changed Fin in the "changing room", which was a shower curtain in the back next to the television. All was fine, though. Fin was game. She just had one problem with this whole whirlwind thing. She still didn't know what she wanted for Christmas.

And that was reason #2 I was jumping on this opportunity. You see, in my flurry of buying, I found, researched, and bought Fin's big Christmas gift, the one that would normally be from Santa. It wasn't anything she had asked for or had even seen before, but it was something I knew she would like. But there is only one big gift at Christmas and, if she asked Santa for something else, no way could I buy that, too, and have the gift I had found be from me. I had been nudging her with some help from Nancy toward asking Santa for a "surprise" this year. I assured her that Santa brings really great presents when allowed artistic freedom. I told her that some of my best presents were when I asked Santa for a surprise. Of course, being Fin, she said, "What were they?" I instantly forgot any present I had ever received in childhood. Well, not true, but the ones I could think of wouldn't have appealed to Fin. Can you imagine her getting excited over a Girl Scout uniform? I said, "Toys! Big toys! Nice toys! Better toys than I could ever think to ask for."

There we were, in line behind one other family. Fin looked Christmasy in her red sweater. Santa had a real beard and looked jolly when he wasn't taking slugs off of his water bottle. It was November 19th and I was getting ready to put two big check marks on my Christmas To Do list; visit Santa and secure a blessing for the all-important Santa gift.

Fin smiled for the camera. Woot! She told Santa she wanted a surprise. WOOT! WOOT! And we walked away having accomplished much in about 15 minutes. I might have some of my mom in me after all!

I was practically floating out to the car with relief when Fin said, "If I change my mind about a surprise, I can still write him a letter, right?"