Presenting... presents
An unheralded mark of adulthood
I’ve been thinking a lot about gifts lately. My husband and I are going to Manila to see my family for Christmas, and there’s going to be a lot of family there.
After my grandmother passed last year, it became clear to my dad and his siblings that it was time to sell the house she’d lived in. It was the house that she’d shared with my grandfather, where they’d raised their children, and where we grandchildren have spent countless Sunday lunches and birthdays and holidays. So this year, the Mendozas and associated acts – cousins and aunts and uncles, spouses and nephews and nieces, both local and international – will be gathering together for what may be our last Christmas under that roof.
While my family has never expected me to bring back boxes of stuff from America when I visit, there is a cultural norm among Filipinos against showing up empty-handed. Plus, this is my first Christmas home in nearly a decade, and my husband’s first time celebrating with us there. As gainfully employed humans with no dependents, we feel a certain obligation to share some of our blessings.
Therefore, gifts.
Gifts are hard. Especially when you’ve got so many freakin’ relatives, and especially when you’re traveling. Not only do you have to figure out what’s appropriate for kids who’ve grown five inches and changed interests five times since you last saw them, you’re also constrained by luggage weight limits and customs restrictions.
But more than just wrangling with the logistics, I’ve come to see this task of acquiring and distributing gifts as a sign that I have arrived at full maturity. Because in my life, the presents I’ve gotten and given, and what kind and from whom, have been a pretty accurate reflection of where I am in life. In fact, I posit that for those of us who celebrate with presents during the December holidays – and who are fortunate enough to have grown up in households with means – one of the most unheralded but unmistakable markers of adulthood is in the ratio of gifts given to gifts received.
As in: if you are giving more gifts than you are receiving, you are very probably a grown-up.
When I was a kid, presents for others didn’t really rank high on the priority list. I tried to always at least write a card for my parents, and made sure to get my younger brother something special, if small. But for the most part, I was waiting on the gifts I would get from mom and dad, from my favorite aunt, from Santa Claus. (Also, my birthday is close to Christmas, so I had some extra gift privileges.)
The first step I took out of that blissfully selfish space was the day I accepted, in my heart of hearts, that those presents that showed up over Christmas Eve weren’t from Santa at all. I was maybe eleven, and kind of already knew that ol’ St. Nick wasn’t real. But my parents continued to insist that the gifts signed “from Santa” were legit. And I was still young enough to secretly want to believe them. That year, everyone in my class was wearing some fragrance or other, so I casually mentioned to my mom that I’d like some perfume for Christmas, please. She must have told everyone we knew because it seemed every single gift I got that year was some kind of scent. By the seventh bottle of body spray, I was sick of it. What eleven-year-old needed this many perfumes?
I distinctly remember opening “Santa’s” gift. It was bigger than all the other presents, the size of a water bottle, and weirdly shaped. I remember saying excitedly: “This can’t be perfume. It’s so big!”
Well. Under all that wrapping paper was a very large bottle of cologne.
And I suddenly understood, in a visceral sense, that there was no way that had come from Santa. That was the moment I gave up on him forever. (Sorry, Buddy Hobbs.)
The next stage in my gift maturation arc was when I started getting presents that were useful, instead of just fun. I went from dolls and stickers and dresses to notebooks and pens and. . . USB sticks. To be clear, this was a good gift when I got it, as a junior in college in the winter of ‘08. USBs were still new enough back then that they could go for $20, $30, even $50; in my memory, my parents presented that one-gigabyte flash drive like it was a Rolex. I was very happy to have something that could hold more than 256 MB (all those college term papers and presentations!), but in hindsight it was also a moment of transition, one that kicked off my slow but steady swing from gift recipient to gift giver.
I’ll call the years that followed the period of equal weight because on balance, I probably gave as many gifts as I received throughout that time. After my husband and I moved in together, we started giving presents to both our families, which multiplied our respective tallies of gifts given.
Then, on a trip to see family in Florida this summer, my husband’s cousin offhandedly noted that his kids called my husband “the syrup man.” It struck me suddenly that unintentionally, it had become an annual tradition for us to order a case of organic maple syrup from our favorite New England producer and send a jar to his aunts, uncles, and cousins for Christmas. In that moment I realized our pendulum of presents had fully swung the way of the giver.
Now, as we gear up for this year’s Mendoza Holiday Bonanza, we’ve leaned into the idea of playing American Santa to my family back home. For weeks now boxes have been arriving at our doorstep at random hours. A pile of “somehow-we’ll-fit-these-in-our-suitcases” is growing in one corner of our guest bedroom, an assemblage that consists of a Wicked sweatshirt, a pair of Minecraft-themed sunglasses, a case of my dad’s favorite non-alcoholic gin and tonic, and a Funko bobble-head in the image of my brother (and his cat). There’s also a collection of Dubai chocolates, mini peanut butter cups, and assorted hand creams procured from two separate Trader Joe’s (Joes-es?) last weekend in an effort to put together gift bags that the tita’s, tito’s, and older cousins might appreciate.
I recognize that this a distinctly capitalist view of the holidays, and that there are all kinds problems with the way our society makes material stuff so central to what should be a time of reflection, connection, and community. What I’m trying to say is that I’m coming at this transition to gift giver as something to be deeply grateful for. It means I’ve become a person who can give, who can show others that I’ve been thinking about them, that I care about them, through something they can hold in their hands.
Which is funny because I’ve never considered gifts a love language of mine. But I’m learning that I find something so satisfying about picking out a present I’m excited to give. I love the notion of being able to show up with literal suitcases full of things that my nephews and nieces will want to put on, that will get my brother to crack a smile or my tita going, “I’ve been wanting to try this!” Even if not every single present lands, there’s an element of journey-not-destination to the process of coming up with ideas for giving. And when a gift does make a difference, it sure can make a girl feel like a hero.
All that said, I take stocking stuffers, gift cards, handwritten notes, cash, Venmo. . . 🎁
Small victories 🏅
This is the last Messay from me for 2025! And though Sam’s got one more before the year officially ends, I’m going to call it a victory for both of us to have come out with this these every two weeks for a whole ‘nother year, even as life constantly tries to get us to deprioritize it. We’re proud of our little newsletter, and we’re so happy you continue to read it.
Hot mess recs 🔥
I may have already recommended this in the past, but that maple syrup my husband and I give as gifts every year comes from Mount Cabot Maple, a fantastic organic maple syrup farm in New Hampshire. It’s run by a friend of ours who took over the place from the original owners back in 2020. They sell really delicious syrup in a range of sizes, and also carry fun things like maple cream, maple sugar, and whiskey barrel-aged maple syrup. If you’re looking for a unique and tasty gift, check them out and support a rad local business.
Our household has been re-watching Stranger Things to get up to speed for the show’s fifth and final season. I’d forgotten how good it is! If you’ve never seen the show, or haven’t already started Season 5 – or whatever, even if you have – go back and see it. It’s creepy, and smart, and cheesy, and sweet, and just a little heartbreaking. A delight for anyone who loves a cozy sci-fi/fantasy show and enjoys seeing kid actors grow up on set.
Thank you again 💌
You all are the best. Yes, you! We wouldn’t keep wanting to do this without your support. Every note we get from you about a Messay that you shared with a friend, or how something we wrote made you feel or had you thinking about something in a fresh way – they all matter to us. Thank you for sticking with us all this time. If you feel like sending us a Messay of your own, you can reach us at goshdarnmess@gmail.com.
‘Til next time!
Jess