24 Dec, 2023

🎵 “I’m driving home for Christmas” 🎶

Well, flying actually.

Well, a bus, a plane, and two trains really. I’m actually quite looking forward to it this year.

I’m often pretty ambivalent about the whole thing.

Since my sister and I moved to Canada, Christmases have felt a far stretch from the childhood gatherings of aunts, uncles, grandmas and cousins. They just became another visit from the parents, but with more dessert and higher expectations that caused everyone a whole lot of additional stress. Particularly my sister. She’s usually left with the majority of the planning. Choosing a chalet. Prepping the cake. Planning a feast. My job was just to turn up, look pretty, and go skiing. Which obviously I excelled at. 👀

Sometimes we had to host Christmas on a different week to the rest of the world, because my sister has to trade years with her husband over who gets to see their family on the 25th. I didn’t mind too much, as long as I still got my luxury chalet trip with mandatory hot tub at some point during the winter. Nothing beats a day spent cruising through the mountains followed by a hot soak in some probably-not-very-clean-water-but-let’s-not-think-too-much-about-that-ok.

Then Covid took over the world for a few years and we didn’t even get to do the chalet part anymore. Living right by the ski slopes on Christmas morning was the bit I looked forward to most!

Forget presents - give me fresh tracks!

Things were so different as a child. I remember feeling like I was going to practically BURST with the excitement and anticipation about my soon-to-be-incoming gifts. I LOVED presents. As long as they were something I wanted. One year I was getting some new rollerblades. In the weeks leading up to the day, I found the cupboard my parents had hidden them. Every opportunity I could I would sneak in, just to stare at the box. Just to hold it for a few minutes. I was in love.

Unwanted presents, on the other hand, cause me great anxiety. Unwrapping the unknown, and having to fake excitement and thanks about what’s inside makes me extremely uncomfortable.

The lies! The deceit!

I feel similarly awkward about giving unknown presents. For a long time I just thought I hated giving people presents to people. But, on the few times I’ve actually come up with an idea I thought was great, I’ve loved it. I just rarely have that kind of inspiration. Maybe once a decade with my family.

I’d rather have no presents at all. Or, some kind of agreement that we have to come up with something as fun and surprising as we can for a tiny budget. To make a game out of it, and just enjoy the process, instead of trying to genuinely find something they care about, but for some strange reason, didn’t just go any buy themselves.

You see, that’s the issue with being an in a family of educated, high-earning adults: They can buy the things they actually want any time they feel like it. And they usually do.

At least, I know I do.

When you’re a child, there’s a huge delta between what you can afford to buy with your own money, and the gifts you receive for Christmas. If I wanted a Playstation as a child, earning $2 a week in pocket money, and the occasional $5-10 from chores, it could take me years to save up the funds. And buying it would wipe my wealth back down to zero again. Still, you’re less concerned about compound interest and retirement planning at that age.

Nowadays, if I wanted a Playstation, I doubt I’d even think about the cost. Sure, I might put it off for other reasons, like whether I’m actually going to want it in six-months time. But if it’s something I feel I “need” (** cough * “want*”) then I’ve probably already ordered it on Amazon. It’ll be here on Tuesday along with my free months trial of Amazon prime that I’ll cancel on day 29 of 30 just to be sure.

Maybe presents should scale as you age? If a present from my parents at age ten was 100x my annual income, then a present at 35 could also be 100x my annual income. That would definitely keep the excitement of Christmas alive. I look forward receiving the keys to my 8-bedroom alpine chalet in my stocking Mum!

Unfortunately, this approach would probably wipe my parents wealth back down to zero. Not ideal.