A few days ago, it totally sunk in how soon Christmas is. Normally, I store up gifts for almost a year in preparation for my favorite holiday, but this year? Nada. The top shelf in my closet, the spot specifically for storing Christmas gifts for the coming year (I’m dead serious), is empty. Well, there is a little sometin-sometin in the basement for Alice that is too big to fit in my closet, but that doesn’t count.
I just finished one of Alice’s presents yesterday…
The movers came this week to estimate the size and scope of our move. Knowing that we will be living without most of our worldly possessions for a spell is nothing new to us. Most of our stuff lived in storage for a good chunk of a year when we lived in Chicago before moving to Ohio two years ago. But it was never around Christmas, and I cannot imagine being sans sewing machine before the big holiday season.
Yeeeaah, I’m one of those. The person that makes your gift and you’re all like, “Oh. Gee. Thanks. What I have always been wishing and hoping for: a handmade fabric grocery bag dispenser.” True story.
We are scaling WAY back this year, since most of our cash is tied up in house buying/selling and I’m not about ready to rack up the credit card right before we close on a house. Not that we have found one yet. We say we are scaling back every year, and then we end up in exactly the same position on December 24th as we always do; scrambling around trying to find the perfect gift for our ex-roommate’s cousin. Or something.
I guess what I am trying to say is this… Please don’t feel bad if you don’t get a gift this year from me; no one else is, either. I’m even thinking of putting a moratorium on gifts between Nathan and I, since the last thing either one of us needs is to spend cash on things we are perfectly good without. I’d rather save my money for a vacation, anyway. (What did I just say? That a vacation to Disney World is more important to me than getting you a gift that is probably not what you wanted? Yep. I’m an asshole.)
For the kids, we are adhering strictly to this plan. They are getting four gifts apiece from us: a want, need, wear, and a read. I’m making one of each of their gifts, just because I can still indulge myself by making something for them and having them actually like it. We’ve already cleared it with the Big Man at the North Pole that he will bring one big present and fill their stockings. Since we’ll most likely be spending Christmas in Chicago, space will also be at a premium in the car back to Colorado. In other words, no play kitchens this year. (Though that was awesome last year! Holla!)
For Alice’s homemade gift; she’s getting a doll. I’m not sure if it is a want or need – she doesn’t need or want for anything at all, except maybe a receipt from Target to chew to a pulpy mess. I saw these super cute dolls on Pinterest:
I know, this plot line is getting old… (Cute project on Pinterest – and here’s how it didn’t quite turn out like I had hoped.) No matter; the best part of making gifts for a baby is they lack the vocabulary to tell you precisely how much it sucks and isn’t a tenth as awesome as what Suzie down the street got from her parents.
I made mine out of fleece instead of wool felt since it was what I had lying around and wool felt costs a fortune, yo! Her face is a little bit wonky; I am no match for Grandma Mary in the embroidery department. I also made her two reversible outfits that are super easy to put on. I know Alice isn’t dextrous enough to dress dolls yet. When she is, these will be the easiest costume changes and they also fit some of the dolls she already has. I made the doll a little overnight bag to pack her change of clothes in. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t?
Just because, I put a little heart on her butt. Then I realized she didn’t have shoes. Alice would just eat them, so the little fleece lady is gonna feel the wind in her toe hair for the next year or two.
Next up, I get to tackle a new bathrobe for Finn. Yeah, he’s dapper like that and wears bathrobes. The last one I made him is getting so short that his little man-parts almost poke out the bottom. Very Hugh Hefner, I’ll have you know.
Edit: I’ve been told to never refer to man-parts as “little.” In any circumstance. Like, ever.