When Two Christmases Collide

My husband and I had very different Christmases.

My Christmas was a modest affair of two or three presents per child – one of those presents being a book or clothing. Sometimes I'd make presents for my mom, dad, and siblings. Some years I'd go to K-mart to find on-sale items for gifts for my family. One year, I felt especially bad for my father who had no pajamas and wandered around the house in his undergarments. I was so proud that I had found flannel pajamas for only $5, and bought it for him. I was disappointed when he opened the present, laughed, told me to return it. I now realize he went about in his undergarments by choice.

Santa came ... sometimes. On the years he did come, he never left more than one present. I can still remember looking at the tag on the present that Santa left and realizing it was my sister's handwriting.

But Christmas was no less exciting or wonderful. As a child, I loved the memories we had – the snowmen we made, the sledding down our street onto oncoming traffic, peeking at our presents and rewrapping them while the parents weren't home.

Me, 4 years old, in front of our house in Murray, Utah. 

My husband's Christmas was very different. He and his siblings received four or five times as many presents as I did, as well as mini presents and candies in the stocking, and multiple presents from Santa the next morning. There is nothing wrong with this, in fact, their family's language of love is giving gifts, but it has imbued a mindset in my husband that is now clashing with my mindset. This becomes most apparent when we talk about presents for the kids:

"What else should we get Simon?" My husband asks.
"What do you mean?" I reply.
"Well, we have four presents for Rosie, and three for Simon, maybe we should order more things off of Amazon."
"That's okay. We already got them big things from Santa."
"Yeah, but they need gifts from us too."
"We don't need more. I think Simon is okay with three presents from us. Plus he is so young, he won't even remember it."
"But I will remember it."
"Maybe I can make something for him."
"No, no, none of this making things for gifts."
"Well, they are already getting lots of gifts from grandparents..."

And another conversation about my wrapping the presents:

"Look," I say proudly, "Look at how I've wrapped Simon's present from Santa."
"What? Why is it so big?"
"I wrapped his three Ninja Turtle toys together so it looks like one big present."
"No, don't do that. It will look like Santa gave him less."
"That's okay. It will make it look like a bigger present. One big present."
"Did Santa only bring you one present?"
"Yes."
"Maybe we should get a couple more presents for the kids from Santa..."

To my husband, I must seem like the one always reining us in from spending appropriately on each other. And to me, I'm wondering why my frugality isn't better received. The merging of two childhoods is difficult but not without its lessons.

Lesson #1:
Sometimes the gift giving is more for the giver than the receiver.
It's true that the children won't remember their first few Christmases, but for the parents, it means something to be able to provide for them – give them a surprise.

Lesson #2:
Your child will love the Christmas you give. Especially if they are young, their expectations are moldable. Just give what you can and spend lots of time with them, and their childhood eyes will add sparkles and a warm haze to all of their memories.

So while my husband and I have had different childhood Christmases, we've learned a lot in melding it all together. After all, our Christmases together don't have to feel like the Christmases of old. They can be a new thing, like every adventure we take on.

My kids, 6 months and 2.5 years.