Last year I ran out of room to hide Hanukkah gifts. When my kids were little, I hid them in the closet, then our basement storage room, and finally, I hid them behind the couch in the living room. But my oldest son can’t hide anything – he finds them every year.
Every fall, I make a list in the Notes app on my phone. Eight is a magic number. Each child must have eight boxes. “What should we buy them this year?” I would complain to my husband, as if he magically had eight ideas for each child. But the pressure of the decision always fell on me. Making lists is my chore.
Half of their gifts are toys or games. I will always remember the joyful sounds they made as they opened the gifts they had always wished for, like the PJ Masks headquarters or the LEGO bricks destined to be built and then destroyed. The other half are necessities. They don’t cheer that excitedly (well, they don’t cheer at all) when they find underwear or crew socks or winter hats and gloves in the gift box.
I try to anticipate what they will need in the coming months and try to hold off until Hanukkah. For example, if they need new sneakers, now is the perfect time to buy them. But some years, the holidays start late and the first snow comes early—they need snow boots in late November or they won’t be able to fit in their underwear by Halloween. So I would give them new underwear and buy a toy to replace it, only to find it buried under the trash in the corner of the playroom and they quickly lost interest.
This year, I got rid of the burden of gifts. This is another reason why I love raising children.
As Hanukkah approaches, I spend half the day on the floor with wrapping paper, Scotch tape, and scissors. “Next year I won’t be wrapping presents,” I would declare, just like the year before, when I watched my hard work be torn to pieces and thrown to the curb with the recycling. Of course, by September of the following year, the mother’s guilt would kick in and I’d find myself back on the floor.
For young children, receiving a gift every night is magical, but by age 10 and 13, those days are over. We no longer give our children gifts every night of Hanukkah and it’s the best feeling in the world. This year, I didn’t make a list. There will be no wrapping paper. “A hole in your sock? No problem! Here’s a new bag. Best of all, I don’t need a new hiding place anymore.
That said, we gave them a surprise: a football table that we’ve always wanted to have. It will be a tangible Hanukkah gift they receive this year and also mark the beginning of the transformation of our playroom from a cluttered room filled with toys to a (more) streamlined room. Lately, my kids have started choosing experiences over toys, no matter what, even for birthdays. They’d rather see the Philadelphia 76ers play basketball than receive a board game or puzzle. As a Hanukkah gift, they watched the Eagles’ first game last week. Experiences can’t be wrapped in a box and opened like traditional Hanukkah gifts, but they also don’t find their way into the corners of our playrooms. This is another reason why I love raising children.
“What’s your favorite thing about Hanukkah?” I asked my 10-year-old last night, and I’m guilty of this change. “Celebrate with your family and light the menorah,” he told me. Neither of my sons has asked for a tangible gift this year. They are maturing, and our holiday traditions will follow in their footsteps. Now I know we made the right choice.
