Homemade presents are the best kind
(This originally appeared Dec. 11, 2006 in the Oakland Tribune.)The other day, I dropped a coffee cup on the steps of my condo on my way to work. Coffee splattered everywhere. It was part of a matching set and I had 11 others. No big deal.
But had it been my "Dad" cup, I think I would have cried. I could see the mail man bringing a package to my doorstep. "What's wrong, mister?" "My coffee cup broke," I'd say, pointing to the ground with ceramic shards everywhere." "OK, mister, gotta go. Got lots of other houses to see, houses with good little boys." And off he'd scurry.
In that coffee cup lies a valuable lesson my son learned from me: Give something that person needs or desires. Matt saw me drinking coffee every day. What better way to share his love for me then to see me drinking coffee out of my "Dad" cup.
It's easy to remember your favorite presents you've received at Christmas over the years. For me, it was the Tonka truck, the bicycle my dad hid until all the presents had been opened, the mini-bike that never seemed to run or my beloved German shepherd in high school.
When you become a parent, you remember the gifts you gave to your kids. I can remember sitting up one Christmas eve putting together my Matt's first bicycle. I was up til midnight, and then when I was done, I was flabbergasted that I had a few extra parts.
Since my divorce 12 years ago, some of my Christmases with Matt have actually been on Christmas Eve or Dec. 26, or whenever. Most of those years, he's chosen to be with him mom on Christmas day because it's more familylike for him (she has a younger son from her second marriage). Plus it lasts longer than 10 minutes.
The actual presents are not the impetus in my household. It's the Christ in Christmas that we celebrate. But with kids that sometimes is hard to accomplish. The thought of waking up Christmas morning and realizing there's new presents under the tree is magical.
I've always believed in limits with presents, so Matt sometimes gets only one or two presents from me. Such as the year I got him a snowboard, or the time he got golf clubs. We try to spread out the love by stuffing stockings, but that's gotten old with Matt.
There's only so many pairs of socks and Reese's cups you can stuff into a stocking.
I've tried to emphasize to Matt the importance of giving. Every year, we adopt a kid from our church's angel tree and go off together to shop for the child's wish list. One year, we bought roller blades, while other years were simply warm clothes, such as a coat. Giving comes in different forms.
Still, you can't help but remember your favorite presents from your kids. For
me, it is an orange coffee cup that says "Dad" on it. At least once a week, I
hold cup in hand with warm coffee and I think back to the time when I received
it, and I smile.
He was maybe 10, so I've had a good eight years or so of drinking coffee out of that cup at least once a week. At the time, his little heart was tickled that I enjoyed my cup so much. I could see him smile every time he saw me drinking from it while reading the morning paper on a Saturday morning. I would save it to use until he was with me.
In recent years, my presents from my son have taken on two forms, either something he made or golf equipment. Either way, I'm happy, but particularly when Matt makes something for me.
A few years ago, he had an art class his sophomore year in high school that he dearly loved. In class, he made me a stained-glass trout. (Turns out, I gave him the money for the materials!) I can still hear the glee in his voice as he detailed how he made it.
You see, Matt and I have fished together dozens of times in the mountains of Colorado. It was precious for him to think of those times we had together. It wasn't a bass or a catfish we might have caught in Northern California. He was remembering Mirror Lake near Gunnison, Colo. Perhaps he was remembering fishing with my dad for the last time the year before.
When I get presents like the trout, I let Matt know how much I appreciate his efforts. It isn't the cost involved. It's the heart. I can remember when he bought me the cup, him saying something like "It didn't cost much Dad. Maybe I should get you something else."
No son, this is perfect. For the rest of your life, this is the kind of presents I want from you. When I'm old and maybe living in a seniors' home, I want to be drinking my coffee from that orange cup that says "Dad" on it.
"My son gave this to me, 40 years ago. Best present I ever got." With the little stained-glass trout shimmering in my window behind me.
Doug Mead has been a single parent for 11 years. E-mail him at doug@parentingsolo.com.
posted by parentingsolo @ 2:48 PM
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