Beer samplers for Christmas? Editor’s Note

Here we are, parked at the start of a holiday season.

That said, you can basically put the entire human species into one of two camps:

• Those who started shopping for presents the day after last Christmas; and

• Those who will start shopping for presents by Christmas Eve.

Most of my life, I’ve fallen squarely into the latter camp. My ability to put off the biggest gift day of the year was honed from years of living with a mother who finished her Christmas shopping by July. Thanks to a younger brother who hated surprises and who would hold a stethoscope to the wall to monitor my mother’s movements, I’d usually know by September what I was getting for Christmas.

So, after years of non-surprises, and aided by a thrill-seeking mentality, I began to buy my presents later and later into each holiday season. And then, after giving birth to a kid who hates surprises nearly as much as my brother (but who never got a stethoscope), I began buying presents as close to Christmas Day as I could. The hope was to delay the inevitable rooting through all available closet space that would occur.

Looking back, I realize that if I’d just left the gifts in plain sight, she probably never would have noticed them. Our house on a good day looked like a toy store had merged and exploded with a sippy-cup factory. At one point, my daughter opted to sleep under a table in the living room. We called it “camping” at the time, but looking back, I am wondering if it was due more to lack of space in her bedroom. The underside of a table probably seemed a lot more spacious than her landfill of a room.

Today, my daughter is a teenager. And my cramped house has given way to a relatively spacious town house. You can see the rug nearly all the time, and our walls actually support artwork that is framed. Unlike the old days of college and early motherhood, I know where my keys are most of the time.

And REALLY unlike the good old days, that found me cruising the beer section on Christmas Day to purchase my dad a “Beers of the World” gift sampler, I actually know what I am purchasing him this year.

I’ve already bought my daughter her two main Christmas gifts (although I’ve hidden them so well I’m not sure where they are, at the moment.)

I’ve purchased the candy for her stocking.

I’m even starting TO LOOK like my mom.

What is happening here?

I think what’s happening is that I am becoming a mature adult. That’s a moniker for what I used to call an “old lady.” I guess it’s finally started to happen, at age 45.

I’m not sure about this.

Don’t get me wrong – Christmas is better when you’re not ripping your hair out over beer samplers – but it’s a trade-off, too. I used to be the one who could throw together some truly amazing stuff at the last minute, to ensure everyone got something for the holidays, when I wasn’t buying them creatively bottled beer. Most of the time, I didn’t have two dimes to rub together, so the artistic inspiration came from a real place – poverty.

Some of those deadline-driven pictures of mine are still hanging on people’s walls. At the time, I didn’t realize what they actually were – a personal gesture over a commercial one.

One Christmas my parents received a massive wooden plaque from me with the family coat of arms painted on it, complete with real deer antlers that I’d screwed in. It was my most broke Christmas ever, in college. But that was one cool gift, even if the antlers eventually did fall off.

Nowadays, I’ve got a career and a bazillion other things to do, and Christmas doesn’t feel the same. I am actually planning for it. I am figuring out ahead of time what to buy people.

So help me God, this is not where I thought I’d be. I’m one step away from shopping on Black Friday. And from there, it’s a slippery slope to receiving a remote boat and a snuggle sack for Christmas – and actually being excited about this.

This Christmas, I’m grabbing back the days of my youth. I’m reclaiming my broke, college-day, gift-making mojo.

Someone out there is getting handmade gift from me, whether that means I’m making them a popsicle-stick hacienda or turning a ham container into a bird feeder.

Christmas may be about giving, but it’s taking back, too. In this case my misspent youth.

So here’s to reclaiming the joy of Christmas – and figuring out where I stashed the duct tape. I’ve got those deer antlers somewhere.