Allergic to Christmas shopping?

So I’m in Target yesterday. It’s four days until Christmas. About half-way done with my shopping overall, I meander through the madness that is the toy section. Carts are haphazardly strewn about. Stressed out parents pore through the picked-over treasures. I end up wandering around the Christmas decor section because I can’t help myself (note to everyone: I did not buy a thing!). After 45 minutes, I find myself at the front of the store with a raging headache. I feel as if I *might* throw up, especially if those damn wandering carolers come back down the aisle. What is going on I wonder?? And then I realize, every time I’ve gone shopping in the last few days, I’ve come home with a headache. I must be allergic to Christmas shopping!

More than likely, I’m allergic to the fragrant Christmas decor as I find it no coincidence that every time I visit my happy place (Michael’s Crafts), I leave with head a-pounding. But I’m thinking about this Christmas shopping business. I’m certain it’s last-minute shopping that’s causing my troubles. And I wonder, why bother?

I know many people who eschew the trappings of Christmas and consider the holiday a symbol of greedy commercial materialism, everything that is wrong with the world. While I do agree that many people go overboard, I must admit I love presents. I do! I love giving them and receiving them. For me, it’s the joy. It makes me so happy to think of gifts that will make my loved ones squeal on Christmas morning. I love surprising Mr. T., I love seeing pictures of my friends’ kids playing with silly toys I’ve given them. I absolutely adore knowing that my thoughtfulness makes someone’s day brighter. And, as Mr. T and anyone else in my family can contest, I heart prezzies! I seriously can’t help myself. (Starting about now, I will be a complete pest, trying to open at least one gift before Christmas. What can I say, I love surprises!)

And so, I will continue the last-minute shopping quest. I still have a few people to find something wonderful for and I will brave the roads and department stores knowing that it’s not about the “stuff” per se. It’s not about how much money I spend or how many trinkets I find. It’s about the happy faces on Christmas morning and sharing my blessings all around. Yay!

(Of course, this joy and happiness does presume that the gifts I bestow upon family and friends do not include things like vegetable peelers, scotch tape and pink flannel pajamas with large dogs on them (actual gift from my mother circa 1997).)

xoxo,
shawna