Shifting Perspective

It’s odd how things you hated as a kid are now absolute treasures.

ImageOne day, when my child starts complaining about taking a nap, I swear I’m going to tell him that one day, he’ll wish he could nap. He’ll roll his eyes at me and I’ll do everything I can to refrain from saying “You’ll understand when you’re older.” (I’ll skip that for spankings, though.)

That shift in perspective goes double for gifts. Remember how as a kid, getting clothes for your birthday or Christmas was the worst? I remember unwrapping a gift under the tree one year and seeing the dreaded white cardboard clothes box peek out from a tear in the wrapping paper. I just knew there would be a sweater inside it. No such luck – it was socks. In that moment, I thought any purchase that was normal during back-to-school shopping should be off-limits under the tree.

Fast forward many years. Every December, my husband asks me what I want for Christmas. This year, I was ready with an answer.

Socks.

In my defense, they weren’t just any socks. Not white cotton multi-packs that I got decades ago, no thank you. I wanted Thorlos, the granddaddy of all socks. Thick, soft, with extra padding right where the laces on your hiking boots are tied extra tight. They’re amazing. And all I wanted was another pair of Thorlos for the weekly hiking we were doing that winter. (We live in the desert, where winter is the time to enjoy the outdoors and summer is when we hibernate.)

My husband came through like a champ. He got me not one but two pairs of Thorlos, one extra-thick for winter and one lighter for summer. (The one exception to hibernation is heading up north. I happily trade 2 hours in the car for summertime hiking and 40 degree temperature drops.) On top of that, he got me a few Mario games, which admittedly I would have loved at any age. But the Thorlos are what I’ve used, while Mario has sat lonely on the shelf.

That never would have happened twenty years ago.

Socks aren’t the only gift I got excited about and later questioned. A few years ago, my mother got me a full luggage set for my birthday. She may have been suggesting it was time to stop borrowing hers every time I traveled, but no matter. I was ridiculously excited, especially since the bags were a bright red for easy visibility on a luggage carousel.

It didn’t hit me until that night that I was happy to receive a practical gift. Once upon a time, the only time a good gift was called practical was if it was a practical joke. Not anymore.

Then there was the Mother’s Day gift of maternity clothes (yay! clothes that fit!) and a supportive belly band (yay! pain relief!). Extra practical, extra dose of reality. With an actual child growing inside me, I was solidly, undeniably, an adult. Also, I got excited to unwrap clothes. Yep, things have changed.

Next week, I turn 30. I don’t know which I’m dreading more: officially being out of my 20s or the hey-thanks-awesome-gift-oh-wait-I-like-that? hangover.

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