For me, football season was a little different. Sundays were family days, so my parents wanted me to hang out even if I wasn’t into football. This normally meant that I was bribed with a new book or craft project to work on while everyone else was paying attention to the TV. (Side bar note to Husband: Now do you see why I think I deserve a present every time I have to sit through something boring? You can blame my parents.) Football season means something entirely different to me. Instead of sports, when football season comes around I get really excited about new crafts. The local hobby stores bring out their Christmas gear in the Fall so when I see blue and silver, instead of thinking of the Cowboys, I am picturing glittery snowflakes and expensive gift ribbon. Red and gold doesn’t symbolize the 49ers to me; it symbolizes the decadence of the holiday season draped over lush pine trees.

So every fall, my family writes the games on the calendar while I make note of the sales. They put their season tickets in a safe spot while I make sure my coupons are tucked into my purse. They pull out their logo gear and deck out in their favorite colors while I make sure I am wearing comfortable walking/shopping shoes. They are drinking beer and eating hot dogs while I am drinking water to stay hydrated and snacking on whatever I can find in my purse to hold me over until I get home. They come home cranky if their teams lose and I come home cranky if I had my heart set on an item that was out of stock.

When my dad called to tell me he was flying out of town to see the first pre-season game, I got super excited. Sure enough, I hit my local Michaels and found Christmas boxes being unpacked. My dad got to watch his Cowboys beat the Bengals while I came home with bags full of loot for less than $30. I’m not sure which of us was happier.

While we have our differences, the important thing is that we all love the football season. The only big difference is that their view of the season involves sports.

I made a stop at Michael’s today, planning on buying just stuff to make a cake and nothing else craft related. (More on that story later, after Dan’s birthday has passed.) Instead, I found myself wandering through the kids’ craft aisle. There were some neat storybook kits, paint-your-own piggy banks and temporary tattoos that caught my eye. I only bought one thing, a Disney Princess art kit for our niece. As I paid, I patted myself on the back for finding her birthday gift so early in the year. As I drove home, I mentally ticked her name off my gift list. As I proudly carried the gift into our gift closet, I eyed the shelves to find a safe spot to store it.

Hm…there’s the bedside lamp I bought for her birthday. I guess this will be a Christmas gift.

Oh…there’s the art book and finger paint set I bought for her Christmas gift. I guess this will be a random “yay for you” gift.

Oops…there’s the exact same Disney Princess art kit that I am currently holding in my hands.

Alright, so maybe there’s a teeny tiny flaw in my system. I buy the gifts so far in advance that I forget I’ve purchased them. However, I’m choosing to view this as a good thing. Now I get to return the item and spend the money at Michaels for something else crafty! Yay me!

I’m all about positive thinking.

No, I was not buying for Dan. Although I did find a geeky K’nex thing that he probably would have liked, I didn’t want to buy my husband’s gift from a toy store.

It was a little harder to shop this time because I didn’t have any clue as to what the kids wanted. Child #1 is a 7-year-old boy. When I asked for advice from a “toy expert” (seriously, it says it on his shirt!) he recommended anything that made a mess, made noise or had a million parts. My next question was what can I get a 7-year-old boy that WILL NOT MAKE HIS PARENTS HATE ME? Turns out, that’s a much shorter list. We ended up with a game and a magic kit. I can totally picture him showing off his magic skills on the playground and kids will be all jealous and he’ll be like “my favorite aunt bought it for me because she’s the bomb, yo.”

That’s how kids speak, right?

Child #2 was almost too easy to shop for. This little girl who’s turning 5 needed some Princess stuff, stat. We all know that I am good at buying cutesy girl presents that have abnormal amounts of glitter and pink. I found her gifts all in the same aisle practically but when I turned the corner, I was faced with this. It’s a pink Disney laptop. There was one left on the shelf and two ladies were literally bickering over it. A store employee stepped in to find a second one for the loons women and crisis was adverted. When I got to the check out line, one of them women happened to be right behind me. I gestured to the laptop and said “you’re going to make some young girl very happy.” She responded “yes, my 4-year-old will love it.”

… FOUR. YEAR. OLD?!

When I was four, I’m fairly sure my parents were hiding some of my Christmas gifts and rewrapping them for my birthday in March. Had I been given a laptop, I probably would have tried to throw it like a frisbee.

Anyway, child #3 is a year and a half. I fell in love with this little toy that says the name of fish and plays classical music. And then because I didn’t want my relatives to hate me, I also purchased books that made no music, had no flashing lights and were not annoying at all. Spoilsports.

When I arrived home, I triumphantly showed the gifts to Dan. As I piled them up in mini towers, Dan looked quizzically at them.

Dan: What are these for?
Me: Christmas, of course!
Dan: You’re already buying the Christmas gifts?
Me: *in a slight panic* There’s only 2 weeks until Christmas! I still have to wrap all the gifts, finish my finals, put up the decorations, prepare the house for my parents’ visit, send out Christmas cards, ship these gifts across the country, figure out something you want that won’t cost a fortune and plan merriment and festivities with all of my friends. *wheeze*
Dan: Is this a bad time to tell you that the 20 foot tree in the backyard blew over?

More on that later, after I am finished breathing into a paper bag.