What I’m Buying My Kids for Christmas; And What I’m NOT Buying

The Violet Orchid Edit Christmas Series - Part Four

Okay girl.

We've made the Christmas list.

We've talked about the budget.

And now it's time to address the tiny people who could single-handedly destroy the entire thing.

The children.

Because I don't know what happens to me when I'm Christmas shopping for my kids.

Suddenly everything is:

"Awww, Saint would LOVE this."

"Oh my gosh, Drew needs this."

Does she?

Does she need it?

Or did her mother see a tiny pink something in Target and lose all financial reasoning?

Because those are two very different things.

And this year, I'm trying to know the difference.

I Waited a Long Time for This

I think there's another layer to Christmas shopping for my children that I've had to acknowledge.

I waited 10 years to become a mother.

Ten years of infertility.

Years of imagining things that other people probably didn't think twice about.

Birthdays.

Christmas mornings.

Little pajamas.

Putting presents under the tree.

Watching my babies run into the room and seeing that little face when they realize Santa came.

I wanted all of it.

So now that they're here?

Girl.

Sometimes I want to give them everything.

And I have to remind myself that giving them everything I dreamed of doesn't mean buying them everything I see.

That's a hard distinction.

Especially when you've waited so long for motherhood.

But I'm learning it.

More Presents Doesn't Mean More Magic

I think social media has completely warped our perception of what Christmas morning is supposed to look like.

You see these enormous piles of presents spilling halfway across someone's living room and immediately start wondering:

"Wait...do I have enough?"

Enough for what?

That's the question I've started asking myself.

Because my kids don't know what somebody else's Christmas tree looks like.

They don't know how many presents another child received.

They don't know what Christmas morning is supposed to look like.

I'm teaching them that.

And that's actually a pretty powerful realization.

I get to decide what Christmas feels like in our home.

So I'm Not Buying Just to Fill the Tree

This is probably my biggest rule this year.

I'm not buying presents just because the tree looks empty.

I'm not buying five more things because one child has fewer boxes.

I'm not buying random little toys because they're only $9.99.

And I'm definitely trying not to get sucked into:

"Well, it's 40% off..."

Because we've already established this.

If you weren't going to buy it, you didn't save 40%.

You spent 60%.

Girl math has left the Christmas chat.

I'm Trying to Buy Things They'll Actually Use

This year, I'm thinking about gifts in categories instead of just walking around looking for things that seem cute.

Something they'll play with.

Something they'll wear.

Something we can read.

Something that encourages learning or creativity.

Something they genuinely asked for or showed interest in.

And maybe an experience.

That's enough.

It gives me some direction without turning Christmas into a rigid formula.

Because I still want to see something ridiculous in the store and think:

"Oh my gosh, Saint is going to lose his MIND."

That's part of the fun.

We're budgeting.

We're not dead inside.

And Babies Really Don't Need Much

Now let's discuss buying Christmas presents for a baby.

Because this is where marketing is absolutely disrespectful.

Everything is adorable.

Tiny Christmas outfits.

Personalized toys.

Little keepsakes.

Baby's First Christmas everything.

And suddenly you're standing there contemplating a $60 wooden toy for a baby who would genuinely prefer the cardboard box it arrived in.

Drew is still little.

She doesn't need a mountain of Christmas presents.

She needs things appropriate for the stage she's entering.

Books.

Developmental toys.

Clothes she'll actually wear.

Maybe something sentimental that I can keep for her.

But I'm trying to resist buying things simply because I think her first Christmas needs to look extravagant.

She won't remember how many presents were under the tree.

But I will remember being there with her.

And after everything it took to get her here?

That's enough to make her first Christmas extraordinary.

Saint Is Where Things Get Interesting

Now my toddler?

Different story.

Because he has opinions.

He knows toys exist.

He can get excited.

He can tell me what he likes.

And watching him experience Christmas at this age is going to be SO much fun.

But he's also at an age where I can already see how quickly toys accumulate.

And somehow the toy he absolutely could not live without on Tuesday is underneath the sofa by Friday.

So with him, I'm trying to pay attention.

What does he repeatedly play with?

What holds his attention longer than five minutes?

What is he currently interested in?

What can grow with him?

I'd rather spend more on one thing he'll use constantly than buy six cheap toys that become clutter before New Year's.

I'm Also Not Making Everything a Christmas Present

This one is mostly a reminder to myself.

Kids need clothes.

They need shoes.

They need books.

They need things throughout the year.

That doesn't mean I need to wrap every necessity in December so the Christmas tree looks fuller.

And on the other hand, if I do buy something they need and decide to make it part of Christmas?

That's okay too.

There are no Christmas police.

We're making traditions that work for our family.

What I'm NOT Buying This Christmas

Okay.

Accountability time.

I'm not buying:

A mountain of tiny toys just to have more presents.

Things they already own some version of.

Toys I secretly know I'm going to hate hearing every day.

Anything enormous that requires me to rearrange my house unless I KNOW they're going to use it.

Twenty stocking stuffers that will become junk drawer residents by January.

And hopefully...

no December 23rd panic purchases.

Please come back to this post in December and hold me accountable.

But I Still Want Christmas to Feel Magical

Because none of this means I'm trying to create some minimalist beige Christmas where my children receive one wooden block and an orange.

Absolutely not.

I LOVE Christmas.

I want presents under the tree.

I want their little faces to light up.

I want Christmas pajamas.

I want cookies for Santa.

I want toys scattered across the living room Christmas morning.

I want the excitement.

I want the mess.

I want the magic.

I just don't think the magic has to be measured by how much I bought.

Because What I Really Want to Give Them Is This

I want my children to remember Christmas as warm.

Safe.

Exciting.

Full of food.

Full of family.

Full of laughter.

I want them to remember music playing while we're cooking.

Their grandparents and aunties and uncles coming over.

The smell of Christmas cake.

Christmas pajamas.

Driving around looking at lights.

Their mama making everything feel special.

And yes, some really good presents.

But mostly?

I want them to remember how Christmas felt.

Maybe that's what I'm learning through this whole experiment.

I spent so many years dreaming about becoming a mother that now that I'm here, my instinct is sometimes to give my children everything.

But maybe giving them the best childhood I can doesn't mean giving them everything.

Maybe it means being intentional about what I give them...

so I have more of myself left to actually experience it with them.

And that?

That's the kind of Christmas I'm trying to create.

The Christmas Closet.

Because apparently shopping early requires somewhere to hide all this stuff.

And if I find a Christmas present in February this year, I'm going to be PISSED.

With love,
Diedre
The Violet Orchid Edit