As a child in the early 90s, I longed for an Easy-Bake Oven. All my friends had one, or so I convinced my parents. I imagined whipping up delightful treats and maybe even launching a little baked goods business! When Christmas finally arrived, I eagerly unwrapped that tiny toy oven, complete with fun accessories. However, after producing a few disastrous muffin-like creations and a nasty burn on my finger, it quickly found its way to the back of my closet. I moved on to the next trendy toy faster than you could say “holiday shopping.”
While I do have some cherished toys from my childhood (I still hold dear my well-loved stuffed rabbit, Mr. Fluffles), my most vivid memories revolve around imaginative play with my brothers. We transformed our bunk beds into spaceships or cross-country trucks with just a few blankets. Our outdoor adventures on bikes through the woods were equally memorable, and I spent countless hours with my grandparents, fishing and berry-picking. Even without toys, their home was my favorite place in the world.
Now, as a parent, I find myself reflecting on this. During my pregnancy, I promised (much to the dismay of my colleagues) that my daughter wouldn’t become one of those kids with an overflowing toy collection. Yet, somehow, in less than three years, she has acquired a mountain of stuffed animals and plastic gadgets. While it’s easy to point fingers at well-meaning relatives, I’ve definitely contributed to the pile too. I often see something cute and think, “Lila would adore that!” But like most children, she either ignores the new arrivals or plays with them briefly before returning to her all-time favorites.
Even before Halloween, friends and family were inquiring about Lila’s Christmas wish list. Honestly? She’s only two. She’d rather wear my flip-flops around the house and attempt to ride our dog than have more toys. What she truly needs is my time and attention, space to explore, and occasionally, a little guidance. But toys? She doesn’t require any more of those.
This year, I’m initiating a tradition I hope will resonate throughout her life. Instead of buying her toys for Christmas, I’ll gift her a book and some craft supplies. Together, we’ll read and create. I plan to take her shopping to select a toy for a child in need, and we’ll drop it off at a local toy drive. Additionally, I’ll make a monetary donation to a charity, sparking discussions about the significance of generosity. I want her to experience the holidays as they should be: a time for gratitude, family, and the joys of togetherness. When she receives gifts from relatives, who might not agree with my “radical” views, we’ll discuss what to keep and what to donate, emphasizing that we don’t need excess stuff.
Throughout her life, Lila (just like your child) will be bombarded with the notion that Christmas revolves around her: “What do you want for Christmas?” “Have you written your wish list?” “What’s Santa bringing you?” I want her to challenge the societal messages that promote materialism and selfishness during the holidays. It’s essential for her to learn to question everything, from media to advertisements, and even long-held traditions. Often, going against the grain is the right choice, and I want to navigate the house without tripping over brightly colored plastic clutter.
In summary, this Christmas, let’s focus on meaningful experiences rather than material possessions. By prioritizing time spent together and instilling values of generosity, we can redefine the holidays for our children. For more insights on home insemination and parenting, check out this article. Additionally, learn more about the process at Make a Mom or find helpful resources on what to expect with your first IUI.