Gifts for grandkids: 7 gift giving no-nos

Gifts for grandkids: 7 gift giving no-nos

The Christmas my middle daughter was about 4 years old, she received the most adorable, soft-bodied baby doll. We called it “Laughing Baby,” because when the doll’s tummy was pressed, she’d let loose an infectious giggle that would set my daughter into giggle fits galore. It was precious—the first 320 times. Then it was simply obnoxious and in need of silencing.

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Three-word Thursday: New camera lens

(Jim gave me a new telephoto lens for Christmas. This is my first shared photo using that lens, taken from my living room window.)

(PS: This week you got Three-word Thursday instead of One-word Wednesday because, to be quite honest, I forgot what day it was when I wrote yesterday's post. The holidays can do that to you.)

(PSS: Words italicized and in parentheses don't count in post word counts today.)

Today's question:

What unexpected gift did you receive for Christmas, tangible or intangible?

To give or receive? Which one I prefer and why

News flash: It's far better to give than to receive!

Okay, that's not really a news flash. We've all heard the adage again and again. Many of us even agree with it.

I'm one of those who agree. I thoroughly enjoy giving gifts of any sort—time, service, something tangible of varying dollar amounts—to those I care about. This holiday season, most of the gifts I'll be giving will be handmade by me. Not because I'm uber crafty like so many other grandmas, but because after years and years of telling my family, "Okay, things are tight this year so Christmas is going to be smaller than usual," this year it really will be smaller than usual. The smallest ever, in fact, at least in terms of money spent.

All I want to add about that is Hallelujah for Pinterest! I'm so thankful the latest and greatest in social media has removed the stigma from presenting homemade presents. Or so I'm counting on regarding the gifts I'll be wrapping up and placing under the Christmas tree.

So, I like giving things, making things, presenting presents of varying awesomeness to my loved ones. Without a doubt, I prefer the giving far more than the receiving.

It's not only for the obvious reasons, though. While I love giving gifts, I'm not an incredibly selfless, altruistic person who wants nothing more than to give and give and give without ever getting in return. I like getting stuff. I like when someone has thoughtfully considered what might please me, make me smile, warm my heart.

The part I don't like is the pressure to make sure the one presenting me with a gift knows to their very core that I am indeed happy as a clam with what they've given. I'm not good at that part. I don't whoop nor holler nor scream in delight upon opening a gift. Even if it's something I have yearned for, begged for time and again. Not even when it's something special I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd receive (think DSLR camera from Jim last Christmas, an original The Eloping Angels from him many years before).

I sincerely appreciate every single gift ever given to me and every single gift that just might come my way in the future. I think it's the giving part of me, though, that really throws a wrench in the whole receiving part of the gifting tradition. Primarily because I want to give in return exactly the response the giver hopes to see from me. And, as I mentioned, I suck at that. No matter how much or in how many different ways I try to express that I lovelovelove whatever it may be and how thrilled I am it was given to me, I always feel I fail at being exuberant enough, loud enough in my thanks and hoorays.

And I hatehatehate that kind of pressure because I don't want to let down anyone who gives me anything.

My family—bless them, each and every one—continues to give me gifts, despite my neuroticism. They know me well enough, have seen enough Christmas mornings when I wasn't whooping and hollering, to understand I express my thanks and appreciation differently. Quietly. Sometimes with tears. In fact, it's become a bit of a game in my family to see whose gift will make Mom cry.

Which, alas, only adds more pressure. (See? Neurotic.)

I don't look forward to such pressure come the exchanging of Christmas gifts. I do, though, look forward to giving my homemade gifts to my loved ones. For it is indeed—to neurotics such as myself, as well as to selfless, altruistic folk—far better to give than it is to receive.

Sometimes and for some people, it's just the easier thing to do.

Today's question:

What percentage of your holiday gifts will be homemade this year?

Good news/bad news

Some of you may recall a certain post from a few days before Christmas in which I ever so subtly mentioned that I really, really, really wanted a DSLR camera. I never seriously thought I'd get one for Christmas—or for any other occasion any time soon, for that matter.

Yet, a very generous Santa in search of one last special gift took that post to heart and granted me my Christmas wish.

That is the good news. The downright-so-awesome-it-made-me-cry-when-I-opened-it news.

The bad news: I've not yet had the time or inclination to learn even the smallest of wonders the magical camera has in store for those who know which bells to ring and whistles to blow. Because—and this is good news—my adorable and ever-so-photogenic grandsons and their mommy and daddy have been visiting since the day I opened that unexpected DSLR.

More good news, though—in addition to my grandsons still being here—is that I don't have to know much of anything to get great photos from my new toy because it has a nifty auto feature intended to save ignorant newbies like me. As proof, here are two photos taken using that awesome auto feature during our family visit to the aquarium yesterday—photos that never would have turned out as well (if at all) with my old camera, photos straight out of the camera with no editing at all:

I love those photos! I love my new camera! (And I love the subjects of those photos taken with my new camera a fair smidgen, too!)

There is one teensy bit more bad news, though: Now that I finally have exactly what I've been wishing for I can no longer blame any crappy photos on this blog on my camera. The onus is on the operator.

Which can be turned into good news, I think—once I take the time to figure out all the bells and whistles that make for super awesome shots.

Or once I commit to forever going forward leaving the camera set to the automatic-super-awesome-without-knowing-a-thing feature.

(Having that option is pretty much the very best news of all.)

Today's question:

Describe one of your favorite recent photos taken by you or someone else.

Wish lists: To give or to receive?

I just finished my holiday wish list. It's a long one, with all kinds of goodies I'd be happy to see under my tree or in my stocking come Christmas morning. I've added, edited, re-added, then checked it twice and hit "send," forwarding it on to my husband and my daughters.

Makes me sound like a greedy ol' grandma, doesn't it? Like my long wish list serves as a not-so-subtle way of goading my family into spending oodles of cash on me.

It's quite the opposite, though. My lengthy list was provided and passed along out of love—a provision my daughters and husband understood and, thankfully, reciprocated, sending their very own lists of wants and wishes to me.

Our tradition of exchanging lengthy wish lists started years, possibly even decades ago. When my daughters were youngsters, they naturally made up lists of all they desired from Santa. Creating the list was oh-so important. To them. Then, as visions of Jolly Ol' St. Nick stopping by were replaced with the reality that Mom was the primary purchaser of gifts exchanged come Christmas, wish lists became more important than ever. To me.

My family is of modest means. It's safe to say that in some years, we were pretty far below the line marking those means even modest. Which meant every penny spent was precious, and I sure didn't want to waste a single one on gifts my loved ones didn't genuinely desire. As mother to three daughters, true wants and wishes were often hard to figure out, especially when the girls were pre-teens and teens. Hence the wish lists. I didn't want to guess and have either of us—or my bank account—come up short.

So I started the annual rite of sometime before Black Friday asking my daughters—and husband—to create wish lists, to write down more than they could ever hope to receive for Christmas. With a wish list in hand as I did my holiday shopping, I'd be sure to grant at least a wish or two, regardless of my means. Requesting especially long lists served a purpose, too: it ensured the gifts I gave would be a surprise, to some degree, as the recipients wouldn't know for certain exactly which items I'd purchased from their lists until the gifts were opened.

My girls aren't greedy, so it's never been in their nature to make huge requests, lengthy requests of what they're hoping to receive. But they did (and do) as I wished, knowing providing the lists was, in fact, a gift to me, helpful in my desire to please them with my purchases.

Which is exactly the reason I do the same for them. I provide long wish lists in hopes my daughters won't waste their hard-earned money trying to please their mama with the perfect gift. I list for them everything that would be perfect, not only for me, but for their pocketbooks. I give them inexpensive ideas and they're welcome to choose whatever works for them. And whatever works for them will surely be wonderful to me. My list guarantees that.

That doesn't mean we shun and discourage gifts not featured on a list. Receiving something not on a list can be a pleasure of indescribable sorts, a sign a loved one has taken note of another's likes and desires and needs without having to be told. I welcome that. We all welcome that. But we all also are happy to provide the safety net of a wish list, just in case.

Gift-giving can be awkward, for both the giver and the receiver. It can be even more awkward—for both sides—when the one giving isn't confident about what she's given. Which is why I consider providing a wish list a gift in itself, one I'm ever so happy to give. Even more so, they're a gift I'm forever grateful to receive.

Photo: fotolia

Today's question:

What is the wish-list protocol in your family?