It's Beginning to Look A Lot like the Christmas List

The call came this past Sunday, earlier than usual.

“I need your Christmas list before Thanksgiving,” my mother stated in a matter-of-fact voice. “I want to do my shopping early this year.”

Well, this is new, I thought. Usually she wants them on Thanksgiving Day so she can hit the stores on Black Friday.

The Christmas List is a big deal in my family. Those who do not write one are doomed to the whims of my mother. I tested the theory one year and ended up with a gray sweatshirt with two orange tabby cats on it—representing Avery and Allie, my pets at the time. She even had their names ironed onto the shirt, one above each cat. My name was ironed onto the back.

When I was a kid, I would spend hours with the Montgomery Ward Christmas catalog, a sheet of loose leaf notebook paper and a pencil, dreaming of all the toys Santa could possibly bring me. A single sheet of paper usually wasn’t enough most years. I would pour through that 500+ page catalog like a lawyer pouring over a legal brief, writing down detailed descriptions of what I wanted. I was even thoughtful enough to include page and item numbers in case Santa needed help.

And every year I was disappointed. I would get one or two items from the list. The rest would be “practical” gifts like clothes and school supplies. I always envied my classmates who returned from Christmas vacation with stories of what seemed like tons of shiny new toys waiting for them under the tree on Christmas morning. My new sneakers paled in comparison.

My parents wrote Christmas Lists, too. Their lists were always so short, just a few items. They didn’t need a catalog to complete it.

As I got older, the Montgomery Ward catalogs stopped coming to the house, and I outgrew toys. My lists got shorter, too. It was a struggle thinking of gift suggestions. I often found myself listing that classic item: money. Later, gift cards joined the list, too.

But while my list got shorter, my mother’s got longer. And longer. I continue to struggle to think of what I would like to have, while she now writes the War and Peace of Christmas lists. In fact, her list is now a family joke.

It’s that time of year again. Time for the Christmas List. I still have no idea what I want, and I’m sure my mother already has two or three pages for her list. Plus, there’s the added pressure of the early deadline this year. Maybe I’ll just stick to those old standbys, money and gift cards. They’re always the right color, and they always fit no matter how much weight I gain or lose during the year.

I still have that cat sweatshirt. Avery and Allie are gone, but it still comes in handy for keeping warm on a cold night.