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December 12, 2004
Stuff it
I am suffering from an unusual form of Christmas anxiety, one that I shall refer to as Christmas Stocking Meltdown. My husband and I never really exchanged stockings as part of our haphazard, pre-child tradition. Stockings were a huge deal in my household as a child, but I am finding that as an adult, they introduce a whole new level of Christmas complexity and pressure: what to put in there, how much to spend, do you drive big nails into your mantel and then have holes there the rest of the year etc.
Not to mention that fact that OH LORD are most stockings ugly. I cannot bear the garish, got-'em-six-for-a-dollar standard issue white and red faux fur stockings. You would think the Christmas "industry", which has helpfully provided me with about ten million alternatives, would have been able to produce something both holiday in spirit and pleasing to the eye. Not true. It seems the vast majority of stockings have been created to uphold one of a few themes: needlepoint snowmen, felt Christmas trees trimmed in gold braid, or weird elvish Santas cavorting on plaid backgrounds. One has to place these items in a prominent location and look at them for weeks. I don't want my stomach to clutch in horror every time I glance over at my fireplace.
However, the introduction of a child into a home requires that new attention be paid to the rituals of gift giving, and to me that translates as buy some stockings or you are not a good mother. So I recently braved the sales rack at my favorite discount stores. Talk about pressure! I had to envision that THIS stocking, whichever one I choose for the Bean, would be the stocking for his entire childhood. Year after year it would be filled with charming gifts and delicious, whimsical candies, setting the stage for a lifetime of warm memories and holiday cheer.
After spending far too much time deciding, I finally purchased a needlepoint stocking for myself, a felt one for my husband, and in an apparently lapse of sanity that I still cannot explain, I selected a blue, sequined stocking for my only beloved son.
Why. This is not Christmas on Ice. Nor is it Vegas. This is just a simple expression of love and good wishes between family members. I've never bought anything with sequins in my life. This thing even had SILVER PUFFY STARS attached to the top of it that I had to cut off. Not only that, but in keeping with the American need to MAKE THINGS BIGGER and BUY MORE, all three stockings were big enough to each hold a brand new Hummer and Arnold Schwarzenegger to drive it.
Last weekend, my mother-in-law had to hear to my whole Meltdown history, philosophy, and current status complete with the unveiling of stockings. I laid them between us on the couch. The light from our Christmas tree glinted softly off the sequins as we gazed down. "Why don't you just return them?" she asked finally.
So I did*. We now have no stockings and no plan to fill anything in our house with sugarplums, walnuts, silver dollars, diamond earrings, candy canes, pocket knives, mini plush toys, card games, sour balls, concert tickets, Pez dispensers, cuff links, holiday-themed toothbrushes or wind-up mice. Nothing. Unless someone can please tell me where I can find stockings that are vaguely vintage looking, with muted stripes in shades of umber, goldenrod and russet, reasonably sized, and crafted to last at least 18 years.
Thank you. I hope you are having a joyous holiday season.
* Yes, I returned the stocking even though I had cut off the puffy stars. Believe me, it was better off without them.
Posted by Max at December 12, 2004 12:43 AM