Natalie Whatley

There isn’t a day, week, or month left on the calendar that isn’t set aside to observe, commemorate, or otherwise notice a cause, individual, or group. Some are worthy of ignoring, such as National Grouch Day, but one commemorative week I was unaware of needs a little attention.

The second week of November, which will officially begin tomorrow, is Pursuit of Happiness Week. I know it sounds a little odd, but the purpose is to remind everyone, as stated in the Declaration of Independence, that all men and women “are endowed by their Creator with certain unalieanable rights, that among them are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” It would be unpatriotic not to recognize this one. You’ve got from November 8 – 14 to perform a search. Feel very fortunate if you don’t have to look long or far.

Happiness is defined in different ways depending on who’s providing the definition, but Webster’s says it is a state of mind or feeling characterized by contentment, love, satisfaction, or joy. And pursuit: Until I looked it up, I never realized an important piece that sets it aside from simply following something is the intent to catch.

Since I have been on a mission of sorts to find my place in the world while my children explore the things that bring them joy, it occurred to me that sometimes hunting for happiness involves not chasing after some things, or possibly bringing other things to an end. If capturing some empty space opens up a spot for something that makes me smile, why not?

Those in the business of studying happiness say much of our disposition in that regard is genetic and to a large degree formed during childhood. It’s also a lot of work. But the good news: Happiness is a choice. It’s tricky for sure, but we all know it’s possible as most of us are acquainted with someone who is happy despite some crummy circumstances.  Some say life is 10 percent events and 90 percent how we react to those events. I believe there’s a great deal of truth there.

Once we decide ourselves happy, we have a real proverbial bucket of cold water to deal with in a phenomenon known as hedonic adaptation. I know, big words for a Saturday, but you’ll thank me for explaining how it works. Knowing is half the battle. Maybe you can keep this from dampening any new-found joy.

Hedonic adaptation occurs because humans are very adaptable – some of us more than others— and as soon as something better than our “normal” becomes habit or a routine part of our day, it loses its shine so to speak. Think past lottery winners who manage to become miserable despite having money troubles wiped away.  And raise your hand if you’ve reached a goal you thought was going to bring the epitome of happiness, only to find that happy feeling was short-lived. We’re always raising the bar. I don’t know when the concept of contentment was lost, but I know I don’t see enough of it – too much of the grass-is-greener syndrome going around if you ask me.

Gretchen Rubin, author of “The Happiness Project” says that one way to combat hedonic adaptation is to cut back on luxurious enjoyment. (That almost sounds un-American.) Also, try stopping each day and just being grateful for the things in your life.  Avoid including external things – look to your inner resources. Take pleasure in the little things.

Get out there and go after something delightful . . . and intend on catching it!

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

Happy Halloween! I hope this finds you all scaring up some fun – even if you don’t officially celebrate. It’s difficult to escape all that surrounds what has become a cauldron filled with a mixed brew of beliefs and customs.

That said an entire industry has been built around the day and people’s enjoyment of fear. To be fair, there is also a whimsical side – adults would rather not be awakened by frightened children – complete with festive thank-goodness-it’s-finally-fall fun.  There’s something for everyone.

Listening to the radio for a few minutes will garner several locations within driving distance where you can pay to enter and enjoy a fearful adrenaline rush. Those venues come with names like Phobia, known for featuring clowns of all things; Screamworld, and of course all the haunteds  . . . woods, houses, etc.  I suppose phobophobiacs, those who have a fear of fear, avoid those. I’ve never attended any, but have heard the scariest parts are often the lines and wait to go through. No thanks.

If you’re one who would rather place your money on actual goods versus an experience, retail data shows Halloween only second to Christmas in home décor and the third largest party day of the year. Those in the business of making a profit off the day are quite spirited by the fact that despite the lagging economy, most of us were in the mood to spend more this year than last Halloween.  

Retailer Steven Silverstein, President of Spirit Halloween costume stores, says sales increase by 30 percent when Halloween falls on a Saturday and that Halloween should be officially moved to the last Saturday in October, regardless of the date. He and like-minded individuals descended on Capitol Hill earlier this month asking Congress to do just that. I can think of other things I want my elected officials working on.

Silverstein’s movement termed “Halloweekend” is currently circulating a petition. He claims “the recession can be ended, jobs created and Halloween will just be more fun”. While a staunch believer in capitalism and free markets, I’m not so sure this could get us out of the mess we’re in. I like his spirit, though – far better than the apparition of our government officials announcing just this week that it appears the recession is over.

Yes, the economy grew at 3.5 percent in the third quarter, ending four straight quarters of contracting economic activity. But . . . and it’s a big BUT . . . that “growth” was spurred by brisk federal spending and government-supported spending on cars and homes.  Think Cash for Clunkers and federal tax credits for first-time homebuyers. Sigh. Those willing to remove the masks are already stating it will be difficult to sustain such a recovery after government support for the programs end. Is it really a treat if we trick ourselves?

On a much lighter note, if you will be hosting trick-or-treaters at your home, be on the lookout for the vampire-costume trend.  We have once again (it goes in waves), due to the popularity of some books and movies, become entranced by vampires. But it’s different this time. They don’t look so scary any more. In fact, they’re quite good-looking and overtly seductive – be careful not to look them in the eyes.

After costumes, it wouldn’t be Halloween without jack-o-lanterns. Have you seen some of the elaborate designs? I’m amazed at what some can do with small tools and too much free time. I mean, it is going to rot. My children bought some rather large pumpkins to carve and plan on scooping out the innards of one and draping it out of the mouth to appear as though Mr. Jack O’Lantern has either a) partaken of too many confectionary delights, or b) spent a little time with me discussing the “end” of the recession. I know just how he feels. Have a Happy Halloween!

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

Sunday is a special day to be celebrated and remembered; it’s Grandparents Day. Recall last year I mentioned there was some controversy over how to punctuate the holiday. I’ll use the form I found to be correct, but know there are disagreements. I’m beginning to wonder if there is anything we as human beings can collectively agree upon. That’s a topic for another day.

I wasn’t much on celebrating the holiday in the past because, while I’m a strong proponent of capitalism and free markets, I thought the whole thing was cooked up by greeting card companies. I’m not too proud to admit I was wrong.

It all started with Marian McQuade. She lobbied in the 70s to have the day officially recognized “to honor grandparents, to give grandparents an opportunity to show love for their children’s children, and to help children become aware of the strength, information, and guidance older people can offer.” All the grandparents I know certainly fit the bill, and they’re a versatile bunch as well – help is needed in different ways at different times. But best of all, grandparents provide countless children a soft place to fall.  

As I traverse the teen years – again (first time was hard enough, now I get three more trips) – with my children, their grandparents act as the buffers.  They help me put things in perspective, remind me what I was like at that age (they enjoy that a bit too much), and dispense the “this too shall pass” pep talk. I almost always feel better – doubly so if said child hangs out at their house, otherwise known as “the buffer zone”,  putting some much needed distance between me and the issue of the day.

My kids are blessed beyond words to have people in their lives who love them unconditionally (like I do) and aren’t jaded (like I am) by what I call the daily grind: homework, dirty clothes all over the bathroom and beyond, wet towels (my archenemy and biggest pet peeve) strewn about, and my supposed nagging over menial tasks that I’d not mention again if someone would just do them.  (The laughter you hear is my mother, Linda Rowe.  Before she does it for me, I’ll admit my room was atrocious. And the bathroom I shared with two brothers . . . let’s just not go there.)

The above brings me to where I shared my subject matter for this week with my middle child. While I know exactly what made my grandparents so dear to me, I wanted to hear his thoughts. “They’re nicer. They’re more fun. They like to do things kids enjoy – you don’t sit for hours and play video games with me or stay at the shooting range all day. They buy me nice things for no reason.” Dagger to my heart.  I was almost moved to tears before I remembered his grandparents are not the same people who raised me.

Sure, I have great memories of all sorts of things I did with my parents growing up. But, like me, they were stuck in that daily grind and all that entailed getting me to adulthood in one piece.  And to be honest, it’s their demeanor now that keeps me clawing my way back to sanity. One day, and I’m in no particular hurry, it will be my turn.

I cherish the thought of giving a seasoned “this too shall pass” speech. I may even snicker when it’s over. And the very best part: I’ll be able to loosen my stance and be some little do-no-wrong cherub’s soft place to fall.

Many thanks to all the grandparents who continually cushion the blows . . . the world would be a much harder place without you.   

© 2009 Natalie Whatley   

I’m a people watcher.  It’s a practice that has gotten me into trouble at various points in my life (some people don’t like being watched), but I can’t help fading to the back of a crowd and taking in all that swirls around me. Fascinating!  I’m telling you this as a demonstration of my credentials; I’ve been studying people my entire 38.5 years, and there’s a sub-group of our population I find amazing. It’s fitting to shower them with a little adoration here on their special day. 

The occasion usually calls for fancy meals, relaxation, and gifts. While fathers enjoy receiving those things, years of research has yielded a gem I’m happy to share: What they really want is appreciation. If you want to make Father’s Day extra special, give him specific examples of what is/was appreciated over the years followed by a big hug. Right before the blissful moment he realizes you were paying attention to his steady contribution, he’ll likely be struck by how the most mundane things (he thought they were no big deal) left an impression.  

I’m grateful to have had two fathers who took great interest in me and worked hard to make sure I had everything I needed along with most of what I wanted. I had no idea the magnitude of what they’d given until I had children of my own.

Looking back, I appreciate trips camping and to amusement parks (exhausting for adults), searching for and identifying seashells at the beach, wise counsel , waiting up to make sure I was home safely, and having the patience of a saint when it came to me and the clothes dryer. 

My daddy takes great pleasure in reminding me how I dried one undergarment at a time when he hears me blame my rising electric bill on his precious grandchildren. And Dad . . . well, he allowed me to live after I threw some previously-worn clothes complete with a tube of dark-colored lipstick in with a load of whites. I left for work; he spent hours removing L’oreal’s Copper something-or-other from the load he was drying. I can still see him standing in the laundry room mumbling as he scrubbed individual spots with a toothbrush. He kept the harsh words to himself . . . a lesson I can’t say I’ve fully learned, and I’ve had plenty of practice.

My children’s father:  astounding in so many ways. From the attic to zippers, he handles it all with comedic flair. The fact that he can make us all laugh when we’d rather cry makes the not-so-fun moments of life tolerable. Plus he’s pretty good at setting things straight again, and does it after putting in the long hours that have given me the greatest gift ever: being home with my kiddos and the freedom to pursue my dreams. Gratitude seems way too small a price.

It doesn’t end with the fathers in my life.  Guys just like mine are all over –remember, I’ve been watching.  I couldn’t be more impressed.

While motherhood’s nurturing role remains a constant, the lines of fatherhood blur and change with societal evolution.  A few get lost in the confusion, but most strive to hit the moving target and in a form true to the male gender end up going above and beyond. I’ve seen it clearly every day for the past 38.5 years. Fathers, you’re a sight to behold.  Happy Father’s Day!

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

Tomorrow is Memorial Day, a day set aside to remember and honor the men and women of the United States military who gave their lives in the service of this country.

With that thought in mind, I journeyed to the outer edge of The Whatley Estate and inspected the American Flag that pays constant homage to the core of this country: the ideals of our founding fathers and the people willing to die preserving them. I found Old Glory in spectacular shape and decided it was fit to fly for another year.

Since the inspection took place shortly after dawn’s early light, I had plenty of time to reflect on some things as I went about the remainder of my day.

I started off on my almost daily four-mile trek through my neighborhood, struck by the number of star-spangled banners dotted throughout my route.  Were they there before, but missed in my haste?  Then I wondered about the people who displayed them in a place of honor in their yards. Even without knowing some of them personally, I felt a kinship, an understanding, unstated collective concern that the freedoms won in heated battles over the course of our history were evaporating.

While many of the flags appeared new or at least in good shape, I questioned whether I would’ve replaced mine, as I have in the past, had it been a little faded or frayed.  Tattered and torn, but still waving proudly may have been OK for this year, not because I want to show disrespect –quite the contrary.  “. . . our flag was still there.”

Freedom isn’t free. Courageous people dangled by threads, not knowing how long they’d have it in them to stand in defiance of the elements and the enemy. They did so unwavering because their love of country insisted on staying in front of fear. How many of us, who’ve grown soft as if it were our birthright, would brave the relentless heat, stabbing iciness, ferocious storms, shadowy opponents, and death to keep the ideals behind the American flag alive?

I struggle a great deal with what’s happening today in a country where freedom was granted me by the blood of those willing to fight for it. Complacency, ignorance of the costs, and an almost eager willingness to readily give it up is a stinging slap in the face to liberty and those who provided it.

As you enjoy a day off, barbecue, time relaxing with friends and family, take a moment to remember the unyielding soldiers who gave their lives and the families they left behind.  Your freedom to choose how to spend the day came at a heavy price and was likely paid by someone you never knew or even heard of.

To all the families, past and present, who’ve been tattered and torn by the loss of a beloved soldier: Thank you.  And know that should I ever grace the outdoors of my home with a flag that appears to have seen better days, it’s you I seek to remember. “. . . our flag was still there.”  The sorrow belongs to all of us, and your stories serve to remind of what must never be taken for granted.

Freedom isn’t free; remembrance won’t cost you a thing.

“And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave, O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!”   

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

Being a mom means many things to me, but an event I attended last week provided an epiphany of sorts:  While I play a large a role in my children’s lives, my children are also an enormous part of who I am and what I’m becoming.  I was also reminded that fear is a powerful motivator.  

For some, fear of public speaking ranks right up there with fear of death. I fall in that category. Well, that’s not entirely true. I can go one step further than my fearful counterparts: I fear death less than public speaking. That’s probably hard to believe as much as I run my mouth here, but it’s far easier for me to sit in my underwear and write than to stand up in front of you and envision you in yours.  

Getting back to being a mom and my revelation about motherhood, a couple of weeks ago my middle child asked me to take part in Gentry Junior School’s career day. One of his teachers is at least a semi- regular reader and passed along an invite. Of course I was flattered beyond words, but more special than that was the proud gleam in my boy’s eyes.  I accepted immediately. Then I panicked.

Back B.C. (before children) I enjoyed an interesting career as a paralegal in a downtown Houston law firm.  It was tough managing it with one young child, so I scaled back to part-time when the second was born.  About the time I had that under control, “Surprise!” number three was on the way.  For various reasons, I walked away from that office building and put my heart and soul into being “just a mom”—for ten years.

When I started writing this column in January of 2008, it was a transition for me as I embarked on a new chapter and looked for the ever-elusive “balance” mothers seek. Now that I’ve been at it almost a year and a half, a few people have seen me in the paper; that’s what led to public speaking and career day.

I fretted over what to say and how to say it for a good while. Scooter and Shadow, my dog and cat, served as my test audience when I practiced the day before almost to the point of making myself hoarse. I was pretty pumped because they didn’t have a single negative comment after listening to my presentation numerous times. Do animals hear while they’re sleeping? To keep my self-esteem somewhat intact, I’m going to assume they do.

I made my appearance, delivered a twenty-minute talk (ELEVEN times) on freelance writing, the paralegal profession, and how one led to the other for me.  The first group probably wondered why my neck was broken out in hives, but I was pretty much at ease by the time I reached group eleven.  (Those hives are not particularly attractive, but I’ll take them over passing out, which is what I feared was going to happen.)

While driving home, feeling pretty good about my fear of letting down my favorite 12-year-old trump my phobia of public speaking, it occurred to me that over the past 17 years the three people I pull out of cozy beds each morning have consistently dragged me out of my comfort zone. The rapid heartbeat, queasiness, inability to breathe, heck, full-blown panic attacks have made me a better person. Moms have growing pains, too!  And when I grow up, I still want to be a mommy.  Fear:  You’re not the boss of me!

Happy Mother’s Day to all my sisters in motherhood!

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

 ***Hours after submitting for publication in The Baytown Sun, I had lunch with Jeff. The fortune cookie I got after my meal: “Don’t be afraid of fear.” Hmmm…Somebody’s trying to tell me something!

I’d like to know what’s in your Easter basket. Allow me to eggs-plain. Easter-basket favorites eggs-pose personality traits. If you’re off on an eggs-cursion to hide yours, please don’t eggs-clude yourself from the fun. Don’t have an Easter basket?  Get one, or for entertainment’s sake pretend one eggs-ists and eggs-amine its contents before reading further. Determine which item you like best, and I’ll eggs-plore your psyche. It’ll be egg-citing!

Are jelly beans eggs-emplary in your opinion? Your hard eggs-terior shell houses firm but sugary resolve. If you like run-of-the-mill beans, you’re an unfussy, simple sort –easy to please and easy going.  If eggs-otic gourmet flavors fall more in line with your eggs-pectations, you enjoy the eggs-travagant things. But, if you’re one of those who uses the “recipes” on the back of the bag to create eggs-orbitant concoctions for your discerning palate: well, there’s an old coffee-shop joke about how you can tell how big of a pain in the backside someone is by how many descriptive words it takes to make the order. Same goes for you if the taste you eggs-pect involves mixing more than two beans. Do you ask the family to gather the black-licorice ones and save them for you?  You eggs-hibit math-book-like qualities  . . . you got problems! Those are eggs-tremely yucky!

Like chocolate bunnies?  White chocolate variety?  While it appears you’re an eggs-alted one, you’re actually quite the renegade because white chocolate is not chocolate at all. Milk chocolate bunny?  You eggs-ude sweet, smooth ways while being somewhat of a conformist eggs-ample.  Dark chocolate? It’s all the eggs-tolled health rage right now. You’re probably a smug health nut who eggs-ercises and makes others feel guilty for eggs-posing their bodies to the more impure forms. But here’s the real eggs-amination: Do you bite off the ears first? Freud would say you feel as if others don’t really hear you eggs-press yourself. Then there’s the question of hollow versus solid. Those eggs-pound on themselves. Where else could you get such, ineggs-pensive, eggs-pert psycho-analysis?

People who like Peeps egg-cel on a psychological level, but are a little fluffy in the head. And since eating those cause eggs-treme sugar concentrations in your blood, mosquitoes are eggs-hilarated by you. (Buy some Peeps on clearance after Easter and feed them to everyone else at this summer’s family barbecue. The bugs will eggs-clude your less-sweet offering.)

This year, I saw edible Easter grass in stores.  If you’re enjoying some of that (and I can’t imagine it tastes any better than the real thing), then I can only eggs-trapolate that you have a deep-seated desire to eggs-ist in the bovine realm. Moo!

If robin’s eggs are eggs-actly what you crave, you look tough on the outside, but crumble to powder when another human eggs-acts pressure.

Real, hard-boiled eggs or plastic? Ornate dye jobs or a quick dunk? Decals or no? Weird sayings in wax crayon? Don’t like all your eggs in one basket? Those type of “issues” eggs-ceed my previously eggs-aggerated capabilities. Maybe you should seek professional help.

Whew!  I’m eggs-hausted, and I bet you’re ready to eggs-coriate me. I have an egg-cellent eggs-cuse for my eggs-asperating behavior: Just call me Humpty Dumpty. And you can eggs-hale because what I found while eggs-cavating your basket was lost in the eggs-plosion.  Happy Easter!

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

As one who enjoys observing the world and all that goes on in it, I keep my finger on the pulse of the wild roller-coaster ride we call life. I thought for some time about the new year we have before us and decided I didn’t want to look back. So, let’s all take a breather from what has been and look to what will be.

I have no expertise in predicting future trends, but I can Google with the best. Below, you’ll find a synopsis of what some in the know say will be hot, hot, hot for 2009. Fashionable highfalutin types claim that those of us who hang our hats in the Southern United States take about two years to catch up with pretty much everything. I’m doing you a great service here; many of our brethren won’t catch on until 2011. Here’s your chance to look very avant-garde.

I’ll start with women’s fashion because, honestly, is there anything else? (For those who are without the curse/benefit of knowing me outside of what you read here, my tongue is firmly planted in my cheek. I despise shopping. I’ll be forced to relinquish my female card as soon as this is published. Worse, I’m perfectly fine carrying a purse from Target or even Payless. Hey, I’m ahead of the recessionista trend bucking to upset many fashionistas.)

Starting at the top and working my way down: Braids, twists, and buns with a feminine yet functional look will rule well-coiffed tresses. ‘Smart’ make-ups, and not just foundations, that automatically adjust to the natural tones of your skin will abound. (I may actually like these products. No thought required. Just apply, and voila!) There will be variations of the mini-dress (start working on the legs now) with futuristic, boxy, boyish tailoring and geometric prints in sherberty pastels and hot brights. The new neutral will be hot pink. The must-have shoe: metal cage boots. (I kid you not –don’t know what they look like, but it doesn’t sound like something that goes with a dress.) Anyone else getting a visual?

Jewelry will be bigger and bolder than ever. Oversized pieces made from natural materials (look for wood and coral) will complement (not so sure about that given the clothing description above) the year’s fashions.  

Moving along, the new rage in investments will be “green” products or companies looking to “go green”. Stem-cell research is also looking promising.

Technology will bring us even more consumer electronics with the big splashes this year being made on the “home hospital” front. Cool medical gadgetry once only available to medical personnel will be yours for a moderate price, of course. But mobile personal technology will be the center of the universe for most new applications. (New applications? Good grief. How much more “wired” can we all be?)

On the exercise front, be on the lookout for all sorts of programs boasting very brief, but extremely intense workouts. (This is one I just may have to investigate. I am curious as to whether shorter, more intense suffering will garner results.  If I actually try it . . . well, you’ll probably hear me scream.)

Near the end of my semi-exhaustive trend review, I was tickled almost hot pink and felt far from neutral when I ran across the comment, “Things that are really hot for 2009 are friends and family you enjoy spending time with, clothes you can afford and feel comfortable in, jewelry from someone who loves you, and food and drink you enjoy.” Cheers to that!  Happy New Year!

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

The paragraphs below are what I hashed out after three weeks of running at a crazed pace. In some ways I can hardly wait for life to slow down, but I’m very aware of the price. Like many of you, I’m in the trenches of parenthood 24/7. Some days the trench fills with water, and I struggle to keep my head above the surface. Others…why, I have the most beautiful trench there ever was. I hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

‘Twas the week of Christmas, and all through my mind, not a coherent thought was stirring, not even a rhyme. The lights were hung ‘round the house without harm, no body parts broken, or too much cause for alarm. Christmas parties were had, social obligations fulfilled, and all I wanted was some quiet and still. The children wrote lists as long as North Main, while dollar signs floated ‘round their father’s brain.

And Papa with his headache, and I with my new cat, were hoping one day it’d be possible to just take a nap. When from the upstairs there came a horrid smell. I looked up at the ceiling and started to yell. Away to grab Lysol, I ran a mad dash, began spraying the air wondering which kid to splash.

The light on the carpet outside the bathroom lit the offending parties — they’ll be needing a broom. When what to my frustrated eyes should appear three young people frolicking in good cheer. With an old dog in on the fun, I knew right that moment they’d better run! Faster than lightning the children they split, as they had no idea which gluteal target I’d get.

To a clean bathroom before the herd bathes, I pay homage to my silly rage. So down to the rooms I fly lickety-split, with a few thoughts in mind and envisioning a sit. In that moment, I felt in my heart, the tugging of strings from children so smart.

As I drew in a breath and dared turn around, up in years they went, almost without making a sound. Dressed in much bigger clothes, they’ll all be taller than me. I barely saw it happen. Could it truly be? Larger amounts of knowledge they now carry in their heads. Looks like they’re growing up; it’s full speed ahead.

Their eyes how they wonder, their smiles, how toothy. Their faces are changing, and at times they act goofy. Their mouths sometimes speak in ways that amaze.  And the kind things they do leave me in a proud haze.

With a tiny bit of childhood left, maybe they can handle my not always being deft. The years they’ve gone by faster than I ever imagined, like the blink of an eye, faster than I ever fathomed. It’s had its ups and downs — I’ve always had doubts. And sometimes I cried after filling their day with shouts.

On the brink of tears, and with a new vision in sight, I’ve learned that giving my best would make things mostly right.  They love me anyway, in spite of mistakes. And I’ll see them through no matter what it takes.  Bowing my head, I pray they’ll be safe, while asking forgiveness for decisions made in haste.

Onward and upward, I hope we’ll proceed; it’s not easy being the one in the lead. But a quiet voice tells me as I turn in for the night, it will all be OK, for your path I will light.

© 2008 Natalie Whatley

Last Friday marked “opening day” for Christmas gift hunting season. I don’t participate in Black Friday (avoid it like the plague), but know many love the thrill of standing in line, being ushered into a store a few at a time to avoid mayhem, and using elbows as the weapon of choice.  I’ll pass. 

The weeks following Thanksgiving have always been a boon for retailers cashing in on the masses fulfilling Christmas wish lists. Back in 1939 and 1940, retailers begged President Roosevelt to move Thanksgiving up a week to extend the Christmas shopping season.  He did; it didn’t increase sales and made a lot of people angry to boot.  At the behest of many citizens, Congress passed legislation in 1941 forever setting Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday of November.  I appreciate that.  Imagine the tinkering today for the sake of higher sales . . . why, we’d have Thanksgiving in June if it were up to some.

The Christmas season should be enjoyed for a whole host of reasons: none of which include a single material gift. Consuming for the sake of consuming at the scale we’ve reached is something I have a very hard time justifying. Call me Scrooge, but the holidays are way too commercialized and costly for my liking. I haven’t always felt this way.

Maybe my feelings are derived from the almost 16-year-old counting the days until State Farm becomes his good neighbor at my expense or the fact that the nest egg we struggled to save via a 401(k) is cracked and oozing. The drying yolk has me glued to the nest, and that’s probably not a bad thing. Oh well, it gives me plenty of time to consider various low/no -cost gifting options and rethink my investment strategy.

The economic times we find ourselves in coupled with the fact that no one in my house needs any more stuff has me pondering the maxim, “The best things in life are free”.  There are many gifts we can give each other that don’t cost a thing. As a public service to those who put up with me regularly, I’ll share my freebies.  I aim to assist you in getting all of your Christmas shopping done from the comfort of your home, in a fraction of the time, and at bargain-basement prices. These are one-size-fits-all, and you won’t even mind them being returned.

I’ll start with the man of the house.  For him, I suggest appreciation. He’ll love being recognized for the magnitude of what he contributes to the family and will look dashing in the smile such an offering will surely bring.  (My own field research revealed enhanced cooperation regarding honey-dos, and cost-benefit analysis shows this to be well worth the expense.)

For the lady in your life: a little peace and quiet for herself. She spends a great deal of time taking care of others and needs to recharge her own batteries. If you’re looking to go all out, clean the bathtub and let her use it first.  Those who’d really like to splurge can purchase a box of Calgon for around $3 at most drug stores.  If you can’t swing that one, a meal without any complaints would be nice.  

Teenagers are a little tricky. They need a lot, are a bristly sort at times, and don’t always inspire more giving; I recommend empathy, acceptance and a great deal of patience. Give these, and you’ll actually be giving yourself a gift as well. I speak from experience.

Last, but certainly not least, spend time with your little ones. There is no greater gift, and they’ll treasure it always.  Laugh with them, and most importantly, listen — you’ll be amazed.

This Christmas season, take stock in family bonds; they’re investments that will never depreciate.

© 2008 Natalie Whatley