CABOODLES!

That is a seriously funny word...one I had forgotten about for quite some time (like, since waaaay back in the '90's). Until someone I know wrote it in a facebook status. Man, it brought back one searing memory faster than I could blink, and here I am, sharing it with you.

I am a meticulous gift giver. I feel like I spend hours thinking about what I'm going to give people at Christmas, making lists, converting those lists to Excel files complete with a budget calculator, and then online shopping until I find the perfect deal. On the flip side, I worry about gifts given to me. I want people to know that I am truly thankful for anything they give me, and I've always stressed when people have asked for me to make a list of what I want. It feels so incredibly vain and selfish, yet I sit down and plot out all the restaurants I'd love to eat at, spas I'd love to visit, and beauty products that I won't splurge on with my own money (well, most of the time...)

One year when I was around 11 or 12, those horridly awkward tween years (although we didn't call them that back then, we were just still children) my grandmother wanted my Christmas list. And the one thing I really wanted was a Caboodles make-up case.

Come on ladies, you know that either brought you right back to somewhere between 7th and 9th grade, or you are now slack-jawed in all of the early '90's awesomeness going on right therr.

Now, knowing my Granny the way I do, I was all excited for Christmas that year. I had been asking my mom for a Caboodles for months and she just would not give in. Every time we went to Wal-Mart I eyed them, wondering which color Granny would pick out for me, how big it would be (b/c ya, bigger was totally better, we used a lot of eyeshadow AND hairspray in middle school in North Cack). I couldn't get over myself and this Caboodles deal.

And then we got to her house for Christmas, and as I eyed all of the gifts under the tree (Granny went WAY overboard with Christmas presents) I spotted one of those plastic Christmas bags with my name on it. And the shape of made my stomach churn. Because under that bag, I could tell, was a makeup case. A Sassaby makeup case. And I just got more and more nervous and anxious as my turn to open gifts came. Not because I was a bratty spoiled kid, but because I could tell Granny was so proud of getting me exactly what I had asked for and I was nervous that she would be able to tell from my reaction that it was not the right thing. I tried to fake it, I really did. I smiled and hugged her and said thank you and nodded my head when she beamingly asked me if it was the right one. But she could tell.

She kept asking me if I was sure it was right, if I was sure it was ok. I assured her I loved it, but when we got home it just sat in my room untouched. None of the cool girls at Carnage G.T. Magnet Middle School (yes, I went to a school named Carnage, and yes hubby teases me every time I saw it) carried a Sassaby. I would be mocked if I brought that Burgundy monstrosity to the dress rehearsal for our dance recital. Finally my mom just made me exchange it for the one I wanted, and it was like a sigh of relief.

I don't know why I am so worried people won't like my gifts, but I know I am much more worried that people will think I don't appreciate theirs. I would love to hear your gift giving/receiving stories!