Comparisons

I remember the childhood ritual of comparison well. That dreaded, "What did you get?" question from all your friends after Christmas, Easter, birthdays and even Halloween. Only with Halloween it was more like, "How much did you get? I got 2 pillowcases full."

Perhaps it wasn't a dreaded question for you. I'd bet then that you were the kid who initiated the asking because you were one of the cool kids who got an Atari and new cool games like Moon Patrol to go with it. Either that or you had great self esteem and didn't worry at all about what others said. For me it was more of a dreaded question. I knew my gifts paled in comparison to the new Esprit outfits and Guess purses my friends showed up in.

But it wasn't the paling that made me dread the question. It was how some kids made you feel about it. I was always content with whatever I got. I was happy with my imitation Cabbage Patch doll and Pop Rocks. My holidays were fun and special and I enjoyed them.

Then I'd arrive at school and the comparisons began. I usually managed to hang on the outskirts of the conversations, listening but hopefully not participating because I didn't like hearing, "That's it?" or the unimpressed, "Oh." The slighted comments hurt because I liked my gifts and the words made them seem unimportant. I wanted the gifts to still feel important to me and so I tried to avoid the comparison game. Had my friends been like, "That's totally rad!" about my gifts, I probably would have joined in, but unfortunately that wasn't the system.

This morning Claire bounded down the stairs and said, "So mom! Last night at gymnastics Alice and I compared birthday gifts. I told her I got 3 water bottles and a new leotard. Then Alice told me that she got an Ipod touch, a Wii, a DS, and a bunch of stuff."

For a moment our eyes linked. I could see that she was me, 25 years ago, excited about gifts, but then realizing there was a whole different league which she was not in and had not understood. I felt an ache for a moment as I realized she had lost the sparkle about the water bottles. It was a gift that was meant to provide humor, and it did at the time. Claire has lost every water bottle she's ever had. She loses them like first graders lose teeth. So we wrapped up 3 water bottles and only gave them to her at first, so she'd wonder if all she was getting was water bottles. It was fun to watch her open one water bottle after another. It provided some laughs and later Claire said, "You know that water bottle thing. That was a good idea." Yet this morning I could see that the moment had been forever dinged by DS, Ipods, and Wiis.

Claire reflected my past and I saw in her that same sort of feeling of not blaming her parents for a lack of fancy gifts but still having that understanding of how kids think and feel. While we still have a couple of small gifts left to give her for our family party tonight, it seems a bit anti-climatic. Claire will enjoy them, be appreciative, and happy, yet something will be different. The look that passed between us linked us momentarily so that no words were needed, understanding simply flowed. And as I watched her run down to the bus, seemingly older, I could only hope that Claire will be able to hang on to the feeling of her birthdays and holidays in this never ending world of keeping up with Dick and Jane.