When merchants closed their doors on Thanksgiving and even (gasp) dropped out of Black Friday, I whooped.
“I haven’t felt this good about the holidays since I created the family gift exchange,” I told my husband. “It simplified everything!”
As a newcomer to the clan, he recovered politely after his jaw dropped.
“It used to be more complicated?” he said.
I had to admit there were a few things I hadn’t thought of when I set up this simple draw-a-name system for seven alleged adults and now two children.
What if spouses (there are six of them) drew each others’ names? Could everyone give gifts to the kids and granddogs? Do kids and granddogs draw names? How could the drawing really be secret if one of us had to make sure spouses didn’t draw each other?
No sweat, I said, and proceeded to issue as many rules as the health care system on steroids. No, spouses could not draw each other. Yes to gifts for kids and granddogs. No to kids and granddogs drawing names. And a friend, I assured them, would make the assignments. Not me. That way, it would all remain objective and hush hush.
There is nothing more complicated than a system designed to simplify another system, so I kept on with the rulemaking since no one pushed back. The gift limit was $25. No spilling the beans. And one more thing. All this money saved on multiple gifts could go to charity. I stopped short of defining “charity” or implementing a reporting system and relied instead on good ole mother guilt.
Of course, there have been blips. One year when the economy was especially rough, I suggested we stick with handmade gifts, which raised an outcry from the un-handy. God punished me by making me allergic to angora. Another time, when the name-drawing friend was on vacation, I had to do it myself and lie. And occasionally, some have gone over the limit for “the perfect gift.” Ear wax removers, for example, can be expensive.
But most years, for as long as we have done this, the drill has been the same. The day after names go out, I hear from the women. Usually on Christmas Eve, I hear from the men. “I drew the hardest name of all. Impossible to buy for! What does he/she want??”
After five have e-mailed, called or texted, I figure out who drew me.
With another exchange around the corner, my techie husband weighed in. “There must be an app for this,” he said.
And sure enough, we found one: Elfster. The free, online Secret Santa offers an electronic elf to replace me. He assigns the names, takes instructions on who cannot draw whom, sets a monetary limit, and lets recipients-to-be create a wish list of available-online items. All I have to do is create an account, enter the e-mail addresses, and voila! The elf is on it.
He can even guilt-trip my children for me since one wish list option is to choose a charity of your choice to receive a contribution in lieu of receiving a gift.
So far, I can’t find one thing wrong with this fellow. Well, maybe one. I think I’ll miss all those calls from the kids.
Copyright 2015 Pat Snyder
