My daughter, last Christmas, in her pajamas.
Hoping to take advantage of Free Shipping Day today, I started browsing online for some last minute Christmas gifts for my daughter. I have been thinking about what to get her for a few weeks now, but hadn’t really bought anything until yesterday, when I took a quick trip through Target. I told myself I wasn’t going to buy my daughter much for Christmas this year, because I don’t want to spoil her with gifts. She’s an only child with two homes, so she doesn’t really want for much.
Because my daughter doesn’t watch a lot of TV (and the little she does watch is largely commercial-free), she never really begs me for anything, since she has no idea what she’s missing. Every once in a while, though, in the same way that a foreign species enters another ecosystem, an item will be brought into our home when travellers come to visit. Which is how my daughter was recently ushered into the World of ZhuZhu Pets, or the “Zhuniverse” as their manufacturer has taken to calling it.
She’d gotten a Zhu for her birthday from her Great Aunt by re-marriage, a teacher who really should know better. Sure, it’s great to buy a kid the “hot” gift of the season, if you’re not the parent. You get to feel proud of yourself for knowing you got the kid something that they’ll love, not just because it’s a great present, but because it’s the thing that will make all the other kids think they’re cool. Then, like any distant relative or friend does, you get to walk away leaving the parent(s) to deal with the collector’s habit you’ve just started. Lucky you, because just like a drug dealer, you don’t owe your newly-formed junkie any favors when they want another hit, either. It’s my purse she’s gonna steal from to get more Zhu, Aunt Pam! Frankly, I don’t know how you can live with yourself. Sure, they’re only $6 a pop… that’s what they said about vials of crack in the 80s and look at Whitney Houston now!
So I bought my kid some Zhus yesterday, and suggested to my mother and her sister that they buy her some Zhuccessories. But two ZhuZhu Pets a Christmas does not make. I decided it was time to snort some of my own consumer crack, and by that I mean to browse through the girls’ clothing section. I’ve always loved buying clothes for my daughter. One of the pleasures of having a little girl is getting to play dress-up with a living doll. Mind you, I don’t make her wear stiff and uncomfortable or impractical clothes all the time just so she can look cute. In fact, to the contrary, one of my favorite things to do as a mother is to compare fleeces and yoga pants and sweatshirts… anything that I know will keep my daughter warm.
I’m not sure if that’s hereditary, or if warmth is the driving concern of every mother in the world. I know my own mother has said the three little words – nice and warm – more than she’s actually said the three little words. Why say “I love you” when you can show how much you love someone by knitting them a sweater? My mother loves making and buying my daughter and I things to keep us nice and warm, which is why this year I’m fully expecting her to get me pajama jeans. After all, we already have mother-daughter jeggings (you heard me). Why not take the trend one step further? Slip-on pants made of felt that look like jeans? Okay! I love a pant that allows you to either feel comfy while running errands or look trendy while sleeping. (Ideally my mother will choose the former use and I the latter, but after a couple of days of eating, and in view of the new year, I’m loathe to make a promise I can’t keep.)
I’d love to get pajama jeans for and from my mom, because in years past, my mother has gotten me pajamas that, como se dice, have missed the mark. Like the matchy-matchy pair from JC Penney with the gingerbread men all over them that my mother bought in size 2X? Yeah. Mind you, I fit into them, which was thrilling for my mother, because she’d been longing to have a fat friend for ages, and my gain was her, well, gain. She got to say things like, “Look, Carolyn! I think they sell this shirt in OUR size!” and “You know, I bought this top at Lane Bryant. It’s a little big on me. Do you wanna try it on?” The point is: when a lady’s out-of-control life and bad habits have led her to go from a pre-baby size 14 to a 2X, the last thing she wants is pajamas covered in COOKIES. I’m pretty sure they were scratch-and-sniff.
But my mother has been on a real health kick this year, and she’s put her money where her fat is. For the last three months, she’s been going to Zumba class three times a week. (Like Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat Pray Love, my mother has found a Latin lover to help overcome her despair, except my mother’s lover wears a sweatband and carries a shake weight.) Nonetheless, I’m so proud of her and her new hot Grandma bod. Especially because I’m hoping it means that she won’t buy me pajamas with food on them this Christmas. (And if she does, they should be in a regular XL, thank you very much.) Maybe she won’t even buy me pajamas at all! Last year she got me a yoga mat for Christmas, which I must have put next to the Snuggie I got for my birthday. Or was it a Slanket? I can’t remember. I used each of them once.
Which is why I want to get my daughter something I know she’ll really love this Christmas. Fads like ZhuZhu Pets come and go, but an American Girl Doll is forever… right??? Or, not, as I learned when I got suckered by the marketing ploy they use at this time every year. This is the last holiday I have to bring their historical doll Felicity home (and the first holiday I have the cash to do it). I haven’t gone ahead and ordered her yet – especially since the American Girl Store is not offering free shipping – but I’m seriously considering it. I mean, they way I see it, if I get to dress my daughter like a doll, she might as well have a doll of her own to play with. I wonder if Felicity comes with pajamas? I already bought my daughter some. They ought to keep her nice and warm.
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