It’s the Thought that Counts

I was having a conversation the other day with a friend about the worst Christmas gifts we ever received. It was quite entertaining. After our discussion, I started thinking about the topic more and more. The first memory I have of a bad Christmas present was not actually one I received, but one that my older brother was given. I must have been around three years old at the time. In fact, I think the only other memories I have from three years old are when we moved to a rental house before finding my childhood home and chasing fireflies in the back yard, but I do distinctly remember this one.

I can still hear my mother ranting about the present her first grade son received during the class gift exchange: “A band aid box? Who in their right mind gives a band aid box? And I actually like his mother…what was she thinking?”

The memory of my mother explaining the terrible gift idea to my father over a boiling pot of macaroni and cheese while my older brother sat in front of the television in the next room is very vivid. I also did not understand why anyone would give a band aid box for a present, even if it was made to look like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. I guess, in the mother’s defense, it was a tin box- not an actual cardboard box one could find at the curb store. Maybe she had too much on her plate that year? Now that I am a mother myself, I can actually understand how the poor gift choice could happen.

And, since we are on the subject of my brother, I must factor in the worst Christmas gift I myself received. It was Christmas of 2001, and my brother had been dating his now wife, my now sister- in- law for an appropriate amount of time so the next natural step would be a proposal. Being a thoughtful human, my brother had planned it all out to a T, and her Christmas gift would be a beautiful solitaire diamond ring. Now, we were thrilled he was proposing, as she was and still is a catch. However, my thoughtful brother was so focused on this gift (rightfully so) that he couldn’t think logically about anyone else’s presents. I need to first explain that even as a child, my older brother was a thoughtful gift giver, especially with his gifts for me. For the first years nineteen years of my life, he knocked it out of the park. The twentieth year was a different story.

After my brother proposed that Christmas morning and the excitement had settled, we opened our family Christmas gifts. I was thrilled to grab my package, wrapped so nicely and waiting for me to tear into. As I opened it I noticed that it was a book. Books obviously make great gifts, especially if you love to read and write. However, this particular book was not the greatest for my twenty year old self. As I tore the paper I saw a bald, middle- age white man smirking at me through his overgrown mustache. It took me a few minutes, but I quickly realized my brother had given me the “Dr. Phil: Self Matters Book” with topics such as “What if your marriage is not all that you really emotionally want and need, but you silently stay the course anyway, selling out your hope to be happy?” I was stunned. Mind you, I was a twenty year old college student only worried about what party I was going to attend next. I think I muttered a thanks that most likely ended with a question mark. Had he gotten me mixed up with a fifty year old woman in a loveless marriage? I flipped through the pages, read the first chapter to give the book a chance, and then actually told my brother to his face that I thought he had lost his mind and I was not a Dr. Phil fan.

My brother ended up laughing and blamed the last minute gift choice on his scattered brain which was focused more on proposing that picking up a gift for his family members. And rightfully so, but I do occasionally remind him of that gift and shake my head in disbelief every time.

Another gift that was pretty unbelievable was the first Christmas gift given to me by my now husband, maybe around 2008 or 2009. Anyone that knows me knows that gift giving is my love language. I absolutely love buying special things for others – it makes me very happy. That particular Christmas, I searched high and low for an artist around Nashville who would paint a picture of Taylor’s family hunting camp and put it in a nice frame for him to have forever because it was his favorite place in the world to spend his time. This was a pre- Etsy, pre- Instagram era, so the task was a tad more challenging than it would be today. After a few days, I found the perfect artist. Christmas came, and I couldn’t wait for my boyfriend to open my present, and selfishly, I couldn’t wait to see what he had picked out for me. I had given him no hints, and I just knew whatever was in the bag he brought had to be a metaphor for our new relationship. Giving no hints was my number one mistake.

The time to exchange gifts eventually came. Taylor opened his and loved it, as I knew he would. In fact, the painting still hangs in our house to this day. Then, it was time for me to open the gift from my new boyfriend. I tore through the tissue paper of the large bag, dug down to the bottom, and found my prize. It was a set of long johns. Let me repeat…long johns. Have you ever heard a girl say, “Gosh, I really hope that someone gives me a brand new pair of long johns for Christmas. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” I think not.

I believe my initial response was another thank you proceeded by a question mark. To Taylor’s defense, he was being thoughtful, as he went on to explain that I since I was always cold (still true), he thought I would benefit from a pair of long johns because he realized I did not have any.

I wanted to respond that there was a reason I didn’t own a set of long johns and a perhaps a beautiful piece of jewelry or even a fur would keep me much warmer, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings and accepted the gift. At least they were my favorite color- a light sky or haint blue. But none the less, I received long johns.

So, this year as we review the loot from the loved ones we were grateful to be around another Christmas, just remember that even if there is something you were given that you may not really like… it truly is the thought that counts. And if you get long johns, hang in there. Jewelry will eventually come.

Band Aid tins have come a long way since the eighties. Check out the adorable assortments at getwelly.com.

Above is the painting I had commissioned for the first Christmas gift I gave my husband. I cannot for the life of me remember who painted this. I do know his last name is Jackson as it is signed in the bottom right.

If you are looking for an amazing Nashville artist to paint your home, my favorite is Amanda Norman. Her works can be found here and seen below.

This is the closest I could find to the actual long johns that were given to me. There’s a great sale going on right now at Land’s End. Snatch some up before the serious cold comes our way.

Last but not least, I can’t leave out Dr. Phil. Who knows, maybe someone you know will need it. Apparently it did sell over 2,000,000 copies. And I know where one went.