The Season of Giving

A few months ago my husband, daughter and I went to Florida (okay, okay, Disney World) for vacation. In the rush to get out the door and to the airport, we forgot to bring my daughter's baby doll. Halfway to the airport, she noticed Baby's absence and began to cry, asking if we could go home and get her - which, of course, we couldn't.

(At this point, the feminist in me always feels compelled to comment on the baby doll, so please excuse the diversion. When my daughter was born, I vowed that she would never play with dolls - as they say, never say never. She had trucks and trains and blocks, but no dolls, because I did not want to force her into any sort of gender-stereotyped play. When she was just over a year old, we were at a friend's birthday party, and when Bess found her stash of dolls - well, the girl was in heaven. She wanted to hold them, feed them - with a bottle, which I thought was odd because she never had a bottle and no one we know uses bottles - diaper them, rock them, put them to sleep, wake them up, carry them around, put them in a stroller and go for a walk, put them in the pool....you get the idea. What could I do? We got her a baby doll, and then another arrived at our house, and then another, and they are by far her favorite toys.

Since then, I have discussed this with some other feminist friends who have different but comforting perspectives on the issue. One told me that all young children play with dolls because they imitate what they see around them - namely, us taking care of them. It isn't that girls are encouraged to play with dolls, it's that boys are encouraged not to play with dolls. My wisest friend and role model, Valerie, had a more thought-provoking and challenging perspective: as parents, it is not our job to make our kids what we think they should be, but to help them become the best them that they can be. So if my daughter chooses, with no pressure from me, to be a pink-wearing twirly girl, then it is my job - distasteful as I may sometimes find it - to encourage her to be the best, most confident, powerful pink wearing twirly-girl she can be. What a lovely thought, no? After all, there are worse things that she could be than a kind, considerate, and nurturing person. Right?

Okay, thanks for the indulgence, now back to the story.....)

So, where were we? Oh, that's right, forgot the baby doll, weeping child...so, of course my first instinct was to say, "That's okay Bess, don't worry. As soon as we get to the airport we will find you a brand new baby doll that you can bring on vacation." Luckily, something stopped me from saying that, for which I am eternally grateful, because it gave me the opportunity to learn a valuable lesson. What I said instead was, "I'm sorry that we forgot your baby doll at home, but she'll be waiting there for us when we get home. I'm sure you'll be looking forward to seeing her." Though she cried for awhile, by the time we took off she had made her sippy cup into a baby, wrapped it up in a tissue blanket, laid it on a pillow for a nap, and was happily anticipating a trip to see Mickey. (My Disney guilt will have to be a topic for a later post, but in my defense, let me say that it is all my husband's idea and he plans our vacations.)

In the most recent issue of my most favorite magazine, Brain, Child, they published a debate titled "Is there such a thing as too many toys?" A timely topic at this time of year, to be sure. The woman arguing the "No" position said that kids need as many toys as possible so they have as many props as possible to help them construct complex fantasies and storylines in their play. The woman arguing the "Yes" position said that fewer toys force children to use their imaginations more, and that she has concerns about the global, environmental impact of all that stuff.

I remember coming away from this debate feeling oddly ambivalent, as if neither one of these writers had really captured my feelings on the subject. On the one hand, I could see the point that more toys could, theoretically, offer more opportunities for different types of play, for creativity. But I think my sympathy with this point of view went much deeper than a simply being persuaded by the strength of her argument. I grew up pretty poor. We always had food on the table, clothes on our backs, and a roof over our heads, but we didn't have much else. I rarely had the latest and greatest toys (with the exception of a Cabbage Patch Kid - remember those? - that my mom saved up for months to buy), and it always made me feel different, left out, deprived if you will. Even though I am committed to minimizing our family's consumption, I could not help but look under the tree this year and feel that there wasn't enough. But that was my own stuff bubbling to the surface, and had nothing to do with Bess - she got the two or three toys she wanted, and was happy. It is not until we meet up with the larger culture that we start to have a sense of quantity with respect to toys.

However, even though I really believe - when I look past my unhealed childhood wounds - that the answer to the question, "Can we have too many toys?" is a resounding "YES!", I still felt that the argument on that side of the issue was lacking something. I think that children get distracted by too many toys and don't really know what to play with, what to do, where to go when they're surrounded by too much stuff. I'd rather see my daughter figure out a hundred ways to use a play scarf than for her to have a separate apparatus for each possible function. I believe that it is better to spend our money on a few, versatile and high-quality toys than a ton of plastic crap that is going to break soon anyway. I believe that children need to develop an aesthetic sense and should be surrounded by beautiful things, not garishly bright mono-textured plastic toys of every imaginable shape, size and sound. And, of course, I am not in any way naive to the environmental and human rights impact of these abundant toys, including the pollution generated to make them, the toxins they contain, the fact that they will be here taking up landfill space (or floating in the ocean?) until the end of time, the amount of energy needed to manufacture and ship them from China, and the fact that the people who make them are likely not treated particularly well.

But there's something else, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on....and then I remembered the sippy cup doll. I think what sticks in my craw is that we are so quick to allow our children to become attached to STUFF. I realize that children are inclined to attach to a comfort item (a blankie, a baby doll, in my sister's case a slipper) to help them get through difficult transitions (going away from home, starting school, the arrival of a new sibling). However, wouldn't it be so much better if they could become attached to PEOPLE who help them through these transitions instead of a piece of plastic manufactured halfway around the world? Sure, my daughter would have liked to have the comfort of her baby doll as she dealt with the stress of going away from home, getting on an airplane, living in a new room for a week, not having any of her familiar sights and sounds to count on (contrary to my husband's opinion, I firmly believe that vacation is stressful for young children, not relaxing). But she didn't need that thing, because she had us to count on to help her through.

How odd that my first inclination was to meet her attachment to stuff with a promise to buy her more stuff! It is so much easier, as parents, when our kids find their comfort in things, not people. It frees us from the obligation to actually be there and sit with their difficult, powerful, ugly and uncontrolled feelings as they work them through. It is so much easier, or at least less unpleasant, if our children curl up with their blankie and the TV when they're feeling sad, or play smash-em-up cars when they're angry, instead of coming to us and expecting us to sit calmly with them while they cry, scream, rage, yell, or say hurtful things. But the truth is, that's what they really need.

Perhaps, in this season of giving, the whole focus on stuff - more stuff, less stuff, who has stuff, who doesn't have stuff - what we should really be focusing on is giving our selves to our children, our spouses, our friends, our communities, and...well, ourselves. It's been quite some time since I've been to church, but I seem to recall from those days of Sunday School so long ago that the story of Christmas is one of personal sacrifice. I'm not sure I believe that Jesus is the one true God, but for sure he is a great prophet and a shining example of what it means to love and to give. According to the story the Bible tells, a lot of people had to find ways to work through a lot of complicated issues - unwed motherhood, ostracism, friendship and betrayal, death by crucifixion - in order to fulfill their commitment to save humankind from damnation. Okay, so none of us has anything nearly that heavy resting on our shoulders, but certainly one of the messages this story has to teach us is that we need to work through our own baggage so that we can be free to act with courage and love towards others.

Somewhere along the line, we began to associate Christmas with giving stuff. Even when people talk about "putting Christ back in Christmas" and "remembering the reason for the season", they are often referring to charitable giving in lieu of gift giving. Obviously, I am all for philanthropy, but maybe we should also take some time to consider the notion that we need to focus on giving ourselves as well, or instead. Rather than thinking so much about what our kids do and do not have, we should examine this preoccupation with stuff in and of itself. My New Year's Resolution is to think less in terms of stuff - namely, why isn't it ever where it belongs in my house? - and worry more about time. The mess (unfortunately) isn't going anywhere, but my daughter sure is. She's older and more grown up every day, so I've decided that my commitment to her needs to be that I will stop sweating the small stuff and work through my own control issues so that I can give her what she really needs - my time, attention, and support in becoming a pink-wearing twirly girl who loves her baby dolls.