A sustainable regression
An antidote to excessive celebratory extravagance, and a culture of "topping it."
Some of my favourite gifts I received as a kid were as follows:
A wooden chest my parents made me that I still have.
My first bike - a rusty yellow one my parents found at the tip.
A tiny painted matchbox from my friend Grace, that contained five $2 coins (the first time I had ever received money as a gift.)
A card from my friend Caroline upon which she photo shopped a picture of me into a Hogwarts uniform.
A 'merry go round' my parents made from scrap materials, for my sisters and I.
I've noticed an interesting change from those childhood days.
It was completely normal back then to receive just one gift from friends or extended family. Somehow the pressure has increased to hand kids packages full of multiple gifts. You know the deal - Mary Poppins style gift bags with all manner of trinkets that just keep coming. A seemingly obligatory progression that has hijacked our celebrations.
I recall attending a 4th birthday in recent years, with lots of guests, food, entertainment and mountains of gifts.
When we arrived, the birthday child was visibly distressed. There was an enormous pile of gifts sitting unopened, but everyone who walked through the door was handing their gift to the frazzled child. It seemed the child had passed the point of excitement and was feeling increasingly burdened by the now chore of opening the endless pile of presents.
Jarrod took our gift and hid it in the child's wardrobe for them to find on another occasion. He had clocked their overwhelm and hyper stimulation and did what he could to avoid adding to it.
I started to notice the way all the children I knew would rip through gift bags and piles of presents without taking much notice of, or having any excitement for what they found inside.
It would be easy to chuck a - "Kids these days are so spoilt and ungrateful," out and continue to do everything the same.
But we've created this situation ourselves. We're designing this culture with our everyday choices. The kids (and adults) have been given a lot and so they unconsciously expect a lot.
The temptation is to go bigger, better and more expensive. To keep feeding the beast.
Giant balloon garlands, themed professional cakes, expensive electronics, face painters...the works!
But I think the most beautiful way forward is a thoughtful and heart-filled regression.
A few years back, despite being conscious of looking like cheap skates, we decided to start choosing one simple meaningful gift for the little people in our life, on special occasions.
Here's what we noticed - everything was not only fine - but there was a renewed sense of excitement, attentiveness + gratitude. The lack of over-stimulation left room for appreciation and joy. Void of the 'noise' that an abundance of gifts brought, we observed that the kids would notice details, and even patiently listen to the story of why we made or chose this gift for them.
If we start with everything - with all the extravagance that modern life has to offer - disappointment is inevitable. I think if we're to preserve the magic of childhood and the delight of growing up, we have to go small and simple, and full of intention and creativity.
We need to rediscover the subtle art of a photo shopped Hogwarts card.
Of in jokes.
Delicate surprises.
Hand picked flowers.
Scrappy merry go rounds.
Of hand painted signs and wonky home made cakes.
In the quiet space where the extravagance used to be.
It's in the lessness where the joy has space to grow. Where the relationship is tended to with creativity rather than masked with noise.
This is my open letter to myself in regard to the approaching festive season.
Those 24 compartments in the advent calendar?
What could be special and wonder-filled about their lessness?
Less activities and adventures.
Less treats and trinkets.
What ways could wonder appear amidst the quieter, simpler advent contents?
Perhaps letters that spell a secret note.
Perhaps scrap materials to sew together a soft toy elf by Christmas eve.
We try our very best to be stingy parents. We are lovingly intentional about withholding every frivolous joy from our children for the better part of the year.
At the beginning of the year, Jarrod came across a grotty old plastic basketball ring in someone's hard rubbish. He brought it home and tentatively presented it to Halo.
She stood there, wide eyed, trying hard not to explode from excitement.
Eventually as she was fiercely containing herself, she erupted with a, “THAT'S IT...” and threw her arms around the filthy basketball ring, like a poverty stricken 19th century orphan.
'We've done it,' I thought proudly. 'We've successfully set our kids up to enjoy junk as though it were solid gold.'
My parental mission is complete.
The stinginess has paid off.
My children joyfully accept trash for gifts.
Could life as a parent get any easier?
My goal was to reinstate the joy my Dad had as a child, when his Christmas stocking contained a single orange, of which he ate the entire thing including the peel.
And by jove, I don't think I'm far off!!!
In all seriousness, any time I have been lured by the promises of progressive accumulation - whether buying a house, buying fancy toys to keep the kids "happy" or “topping” our previous anniversary celebration - I've found the most meaning and satisfaction in the thoughtful and heart-filled regression.
In moving into a tent for four months, showering under the stars, using our verandah as a kitchen bench, and harvesting clover flowers to garnish our dinners.
In digging deep into my imagination... (and maybe occasionally the rubbish bin)...to give creative gifts that offer space for mystery, wonder and delight.
In cuddling under a blanket on our couch at home, surrounded by candles, using a stone ritual to recount the ups and downs of married life, instead of filling the day with the fictitious obligations of a restaurant meal or a night at a hotel.
So for anyone exhausted with the tireless progression of modern celebrations - the birthday parties, the excessive gift giving, the accumulation of stuff, the extravagance, the calendars jam packed with busyness...I hope you can find some meaning and relief in a thoughtful and heart-filled regression.
In the endless possibilities and opportunities that arise from the lessness.
In the sustainability that comes from the new way of being.
Maybe you already do?
Let me know the ways you approach this pickle with creativity or straight up stinginess.
Much love,
Lysette
x
Thank you, Lysette 💕
Spot on!