The Year We Ruined Christmas Forever

Ok, so I was planning on blogging about blessings, starting after Thanksgiving. I am still going to do that, but I think it will have to be pushed back until after Christmas. There's something else that has been weighing on me since Thanksgiving--well, actually it has been a Christmas specter for years now, rising up and looming grimly over us like the Ghost of Christmas That Should Never Have Been.  But this year it is all coming to a climax--here's hoping (and praying) that it will all come to good purpose. And that me blogging about it will help release me from the tyranny of the bad feelings--anger, sadness, guilt, resentment.

It all started I think ten years ago, about when Sunny was 4 and Merry 2. I can't remember if we had Happy yet or if she was a lovely little bun in the proverbial oven. Or if its been really 11 years. (Doesn't matter exactly--ten years--oh, the ridiculousness of me having to tell this story ten years later. Ten years of bitterness & bad feelings harbored, fed. Sigh.)

By the way, I don't mean to be melodramatic. I'm just tired, and stressed. Words flow, and I don't feel like couching them here. I mean, I can only think of a few people who will read this, and none of you will judge me for my wording, and I'd like to express myself and feel safe--I think I need such an outlet this week. And I think I may have relayed some of this story before--but I don't think I have ever explained the whole thing. Today I'd like to take the time to write it all out, because I need to process this and I know the writing will help.

So that fateful Christmas ten years (or so) ago, we went to DH's folks' house as usual. It seemed like a normal Christmas, just a little overwhelming. Now that I think about it, it was likely our first Christmas in this teeny little house, which is a worthwhile factor to consider as you hear this story. Christmas morning we were opening gifts with Oma and Opa--what the kids call DH's parents--and all was going fine. But the way they open gifts everyone does it at once, so it can be a little chaotic and you don't really have a chance to chat about gifts as they are opened. Which is also a factor to this story.  And amidst the clutter and chaos, Three Fateful Gifts were given.

The first Gift was a very thoughtful and generous one; MIL had bought me a pair of small white gold hoop earrings. Very thoughtful of her because she recognized that I prefer white gold over yellow. Other than that, there was no conversation about them, no indication of their true worth in the mind of the giver.  I gave warm and genuine thanks to MIL for the gift.

The second Gift was a little less thoughtful, but still generous; MIL and FIL had picked out a black leather jacket for DH. Now, that is also a nice gift.  But. . . here's where I confess that DH and I were not wise and we were ungracious. We both looked at that jacket, and wished they weren't giving it to us. It was a jacket style that would have looked much better on our dads than on DH.  We didn't need the jacket.  We had just moved into a teeny tiny house and we didn't want one. more. thing. to have to squeeze in, let alone something we didn't like.  So when MIL saw our lack of the proper enthusiasm, she very graciously told DH that she could take it back to the store if he didn't like it.  So, after trying it on and thinking for a few days--and me pressuring DH to take his mom at her word and not take home something we didn't want that would take up a lot of closet space--DH told her that he decided not to keep it.

Later of course we realized a) she didn't mean what she had said about returning it, b) she did not return it, and c) she was really, really mad and hurt that we did not take it.  I think they still have the jacket and now FIL wears it. Which would be appropriate, and would not even have to be a negative thing--after all, they bought it because they liked it, right?--except that it is a negative thing because it is a symbol of our rejection of their attempt to show us love.

The third gift--well, first of all, MIL and I have a little disagreement going on whether or not it was a gift to begin with. But MIL says it was, and that's what's important to this narrative, so let's run with that. So the third gift was--ok, I guess I'm not exactly sure exactly what the gift was, so let me just try to explain. At some point before opening gifts on Christmas Day, a red wagon full of dolls was moved next to the Christmas tree.  I admit to some trepidation when I saw that wagon, because that was a lot of dolls, and I did have a fear that they were all supposed to go home with us. But most of the dolls appeared to be dolls MIL had bought at garage sales, the kinds of toys she would routinely buy and then either keep at their house for the grandkids or would try to send home with us. But not the kind of thing she would usually give to one of the kids as a Christmas present. There was one clearly new doll among the bunch though, a nice, albeit large, baby doll.  MIL has dolls and toys throughout the entire house as decorations, but esp. in the living room and under/around the Christmas tree. So a wagon full of dolls might just be decor, or toys they placed in the living room for the kids to play with while we were visiting there.

At no point in the chaotic gift-giving did either I or DH observe MIL giving any of the dolls to the two little girls as Christmas presents.  In fact, I distinctly remember the gift-giving being over and us leaving the room to go finish dinner preparations, and the wagon still sitting there untouched and me thinking, "Well, I guess it is just decoration then."  I am sure the girls played with the dolls at some point of our stay, but I don't really remember anything notable about that.

When it was time to load up all the Christmas gifts, DH and I were really sweating about how much we had to cram in the car, and when MIL wanted to buy us that car top carrier, I remember thinking, "Lady, if it all doesn't fit in the car, what makes you think it all will fit it into the house?!"  In fact, the main reason we did not take them up on the car carrier was because we were worried it would end up being a psychological thing of encouraging even MORE (or bigger!) stuff always being sent home with us every Christmas.  

But then when it was time to leave, and we were almost entirely all packed (to the gills), MIL said, "Aren't you going to take the dolls?"  That was so awkward, because we didn't want to be rude, but of course we were not entirely sure what she was trying to tell us to take. Then it comes out that she intended the dolls--I guess all of them!--to be for the girls. Since the car was jam packed (and since we still didn't know if the dolls were a Christmas gift or just a "here's something fun Oma wants you to have" deal), I suggested we could leave them in Chico for now and the girls could play with them when they visited. But MIL argued that they were for the girls and so we had to at least take one. So I said, sure, why don't we let Sunny pick out one doll. (This is what makes me wonder if Merry was only 18 months--and so this was 11 years ago--or why wouldn't she have been told to pick one out too. . . ? )  And then to I think both our surprise, Sunny did not pick the clearly brand new big Costco baby doll with the cute matching outfit--she picked a very pre-loved garage sale doll, complete with one cloudy eye.  Both MIL and I asked her if she was sure that was the one she wanted to take home, and she said yes. ; )  So, that's the doll that came home with us. (The rest of the dolls have lived since then up in Chico, where they are well enjoyed when we visit. And at some point I snuck the doll she had picked back up to Chico and quietly returned it to the collection, because Sunny did not really play with it.)

So.

Three Fateful Gifts.

The dolls, which we rejected.

The dad jacket, which we rejected.

And then the earrings.  I think this last was the gift that broke the camels back. Because they were post back, which I really don't like to wear, and they were really nothing special looking--just nice plain and modern-looking little hoops on a hinged post.  Nice little earrings!  But not something I ever thought I would wear. And the one time I wore them I really pinched by ear lobe trying to close them. And the style of them is such that the day I did wear them I was totally paranoid that they would be really easy to lose--if one comes unhinged, then the weight from the front would totally pull it out of my ear and it would be lost in seconds. The thought of losing one made me panic, and I didn't want responsibility for that very possible event.  I knew I would probably never wear them again.

I did think about keeping them for my girls someday.  They were small and I have plenty of storage space for one little pair of earrings.

But.  I kinda rebelled. I was overwhelmed with the amount of stuff we had just brought into our house and could not bear the thought of even one more little thing that I had to keep that I didn't want. I was also not a little resentful of how trapped we were feeling by the amount of stuff being given to us, and how we had to keep it because it was given to us for the children. Something in me snapped, and I thought, "I can give this one thing away, because it belongs to me."  But of course I would not be so disrespectful of the gift's value (or of the giver's feelings) to give them away to just anyone--that would be entirely inappropriate!  No, instead I sent them to my little sister to wear in her wedding. She likes white gold too, and the style of the earrings was totally her.  It made me happy to think about her wearing them, and I felt psychological release from the tyranny of Having To Keep Things.

But I fully admit it--it was passive aggressive and neither wise nor loving.  I think I did it as a kind of desperate psychological stand against what feels like a serious oppression, which DH and I have never known what to do about. We feel so helpless when it comes to limiting what comes into our house, in terms of his parents.

I could write volumes about this.  It was not a problem until we had kids & moved to CA. Since then it has felt like a huge problem. I have bins of things under the house we don't want or need but we have to hold on to because they were given to us by DH's parents. BINS. We have overflowing shelves and closets, and no where to put things, and the kids don't play with half of it, and we would be so much happier without it, but we have to keep it because they gave it to us. God's been teaching me over the years to be content in plenty--but I'm also trying to be a good steward of our home, our time, etc. We also really don't want to be ungrateful people, and try to appreciate whatever people give us--but how can we appreciate something that overall has a negative impact on our home? Our marriage?  How can we be legitimately submitting our family values to MIL's desires, chronically?  It just does not seem wise or healthy. But what can we do about it?  We really do want to show MIL and FIL love and appreciation. . . but the burden of their giving feels like shackles to me. . .

I know, I know. I sound all melodramatic. And really, there is SO much more I could write about the Stuff Angst. I'll spare whoever of you are reading this already too long tale.

Well. I don't know how long later MIL did ask about the earrings, and I told her the truth. And she was upset.  I thought they were probably a very sweet impulse buy at Costco, but even if they were, it turns out MIL assigned them a whole LOT of significance, and intended them to represent our relationship, because in countries like Saudi Arabia and India gold jewelry is the only thing a woman truly owns, and it is like insurance against the future.  So for a Mother-in-Law to give gold jewelry to her DIL is a good thing. I don't really understand all that MIL feels it signifies, but I really do appreciate that she had thought and meaning behind her gift.  That she thought she was doing something special.

Oh, why didn't she just tell me what they meant when she gave them to me at Christmas?!  She intended them to be heirlooms--yes, she has said as much, repeatedly--and there I go being so callous. So hurtful.

Yes, I think maybe a little part of me wanted to hurt her. No, that's not right. I have never purposefully wanted to hurt her. But I think I didn't care if she was hurt (see? passive-aggressive) by my giving them away. I was not doing it to hurt her, and I didn't want her to be hurt, but if she was hurt by my choice, oh well.

I do feel badly that MIL (and likely FIL by proxy) felt rejected--for me giving away the earrings, for Doug not liking the jacket, for us not eagerly taking all the dolls.

The dolls was a completely misunderstanding. If we had known the dolls were an official Xmas present we never would have left them behind (or would have made it clear it was only until we could have room for them on the next trip).

The jacket was more intentional on our parts, but still a misunderstanding--If we had known MIL would not return the jacket and would be so mad and hurt, of course we would have taken it and given the appropriate thanks and DH would have pulled it out when they were visiting like we all do with such gifts to show love to the giver.

The earrings were my own rebellion. But still, based upon misunderstanding--if I had known the significance MIL attributed to them I would have kept them.

Sigh.

Ok, it's taken me all day to write this, in little snippets. It's just the beginning of the story, and its not a pleasant story, so its ok if you don't continue to read it, whoever has gotten this far.  It's a very painful story, and one that has gone on and on and on, and which feels like it has come to a head this year.

So, I'm going to try to write more about this later. I just had to get the specifics of the background down, so everything else will be clearer later on.