Last year at this time I reflected on my youth and wrote “Christmas morning was magical. Presents were spread clear across the living room floor — so many presents that finding our way to a chair was sometimes difficult. It was a virtual sea of wrapping paper and bows begging to be opened.” I dreamed about duplicating that magic for my future child.

But Slugger is home now and reality has set in. He’s easily overwhelmed, is hyper-focused on belongings, and doesn’t respect/appreciate/take good care of the things he currently has. So I told myself I was going to be frugal. Maybe buy a lot of inexpensive, small things so he had plenty of gifts to open, but keep my overall spending to a minimum. “Stay reasonable” was going to be my Christmas mantra.

But somewhere, somehow, things went terribly awry.

I started Christmas shopping in October, long before Slugger had thought to start a Christmas list. I thought I was smart — starting early and spreading out my spending. I bought him a remote control 4-wheeler that does stunts and can ride on almost any surface, the Transformers DVD, an animated figure of Bumblebee (his favorite Transformer), a case for his Hot Wheels, a model of a Mustang Shelby, and a copy of Bunnicula (a book). Though he hadn’t asked for any of those items, I knew they would all be big hits come Christmas. It was only mid-October and I silently congratulated myself. Besides stocking stuffers and small things, I was finished with my Christmas shopping for Slugger. And I had stayed reasonable.

Then came November and the first rendition of Slugger’s Christmas list. His list wasn’t reasonable. He wanted two Mongoose bikes, a Nintendo DS, a Wii, a Playstation, and an Xbox, along with other various items that I couldn’t afford. But one item was a toolbox. I’d seen him look longingly at the huge, red metal toolboxes with the pull-out drawers at the hardware store. I decided a smaller version would be a good idea that would last him his whole life. Besides, he had to receive at least one item from his Christmas list, so I bought him a toolbox and several tools to go with it. I felt the purchase was reasonable. It’s a manly thing and I need to foster that (because the other day he was wearing a hair clip and my high heels). And now… now I was really done.

By Thanksgiving, Slugger was on the second version of his Christmas list. Luckily he asked for a Bumblebee transformer (which I already purchased), but now he also wanted Optimus Prime and Jazz. The toolbox I was so proud of didn’t make it to the second rendition of the Christmas list, nor did any of the video game systems. But his list had lots of toys that revolved around building or creating things and I realized the items I had were sorely lacking in that department. Slugger had asked for a Creepy Crawler kit; I had one when I was a kid and just loved it. So I ordered the Creepy Crawler kit, extra molds, and extra goop to go with it. While ordering that I found this awesome puzzle game; Slugger would love it and it would be a good activity for us to do together, so I ordered that, too. I also got a jigsaw puzzle. I quietly reprimanded myself for my lack of reason and sternly told myself I was done. Done! No more Christmas presents.

I did wish Slugger had that one item that he really wanted, though. He kept changing his mind and I was worried he’d be disappointed come Christmas. But I was as done as a Christmas turkey with the pop-out timer popped. Done, I tell you!

On second thought, Slugger really needed snowpants, a sled, boots, good gloves, and he could use a new game for his Game Boy. So maybe just those things. How I wished I could also buy him this snowboard/scooter combo — he would love it.

Slugger and I went Christmas shopping for his babysitter and teacher. While there he saw the snowboard/scooter and flipped out about it. I wanted to buy it for him more than ever. And what about a football jersey from the University of Oregon? He’d love that, too. But, no. I had to be reasonable.

Then Slugger found his missing gloves, my parents gave him the sled I used when I was a kid, and a friend gave us hand-me-down snow boots. My budget breathed a sigh of relief and I decided to get the snowboard/scooter thing. What’s another $20?

Then Slugger went to see Santa and asked Santa for two things. An iPod and a pool table. The top thing on his next Christmas list was an iPod (the pool table has been forgotten). He’s told every person we’ve seen since that he wants an iPod. He’s researched them, printed out picture after picture, and checked iTunes “just in case.” He even proclaimed “Mom, let’s just do it. I don’t want anything else but an iPod Nano. One present.” (He quickly changed his mind about that “one present” thing.)

So what’s a mom to do? I ordered the stinking iPod. But I only got him the Shuffle, not the Nano. Because, after all, “stay reasonable” is my mantra.