Barbie's Last Stand

Barbie's Last Stand

Barbie changed my family's life. Late one Christmas morning, when my girls were a few years younger, I surveyed the remains of Hurricane Maryann, a.k.a. Grandma. It was not pretty. The living room was a sea of empty boxes, bows, shredded wrapping paper and what seemed like the entire contents of Aisle 2 Pink at Toys R Us.

Something inside me clicked - I didn't want my children's Christmas joy dependent on the quantity of toys they received. They didn't need three Barbies each, Barbie's current boy-toy, her swank condo with swimming pool, pink jeep and part-time veterinary hospital. I knew these Barbies soon would be floating in the tub, naked, sporting a new haircut and missing several appendages. I didn't tell my wonderful mother-in-law, but then and there, I decided to substitute our dependence on holiday commercialism with meaningful traditions.

My happiest memories didn't center on toys but on helping my mom put her assortment of homemade cookies - snickerdoodles, sandies and jelly drops - into red coffee cans lined with green tissue; opening daily Christmas themed cardboard doors on our Advent calendar, dizzy with excitement over what treasure I would find; spinning on a tall white stool in my grandma's house as I watched my mom, aunts and grandparents laugh, tease and share their lives with each other while they all helped prepare Christmas dinner in a kitchen that seemed to sparkle like a Christmas tree.

In "Simple Living With Kids," by Elaine St. James, I found good ideas with which to pursue my plan of reducing the number of gifts our children received, without feeling too Scrooge like. The author suggests giving only one or two special gifts to each child, especially if your kids have overzealous grandparents and relatives adding to their stockpile (that's us). Convincing Grandma and other relatives has proven a little difficult, but they have come around by my suggesting "an entire day alone with grandma" or "lunch and a play with a favorite aunt."

A new idea I introduced is teaching my daughters to make gifts. Seriously short on Martha Stewart's craft talents, I purchased a couple of easy candle, soap and ornament making kits, and dusted off my ancient Betty Crocker cookbook. Even though some of my kids' teddy bear-shaped soap creations closely resemble the creature from the Black Lagoon, and I have doubts whether the crooked candles we make will actually burn, my daughters enjoy giving something they crafted themselves to the people they love.

And, as the holidays get closer and I start to feel the pressure to show my children love by buying them "things," or if my kids develop the "I wants," I reread a quote from "The Shelter of Each Other," by Mary Pipher: "Contrary to the news from the broader culture, most of what children need money cannot buy. Children need time and space, attention, affection, guidance and conversation. They need sheltered places where they can be safe as they learn what they need to know to survive. They need jokes, play and touching. They need to have stories told to them by adults who know and love them in all their particularity and who have a real interest in their moral development."

So, my idea of a perfect holiday now means fewer shopping days, giving small gifts we have made with love and spending more time relaxing with my husband, our children and extended family. Instead of waiting in line at the toy store to buy the latest Barbie, and her fully equipped RV, my husband and I cuddle in front of the fire with our three young daughters and reclaim the most important holiday tradition of all - giving our children all the love, devotion and attention our parents gave us.