Christmases Past, Present, + Future
This year will be my daughter’s second Christmas. Last year, she was flirting with walking and this year she’s talking! Now that she’s talking and answering direct questions (wild!), I'm thinking even more seriously about what we want the holidays to look like for our family in the future and what expectations we intend to set around gifts.
As I consider future Christmases, I’ve been reflecting on my own childhood experiences of holiday gift-giving and Christmas spending. As an elder millennial, I grew up in peak 90s consumerism, finishing off as a late 90s/early 2000s teenager. If the Y2K fashion revival is any indication, it was a time of great materialism when the mall was still in its heyday and online shopping in its early years.
My family was a big and blended one, comprising my mom, step-dad, two step-sisters, and my two biological sisters. I also had my step-mother and two more step-siblings at my dad’s house. If you’re keeping track, that’s 10 people in my immediate families.
Gift-giving at my mom’s house was an important annual tradition. My mom would do her best to take each of us 5 girls in her house on an individual Christmas shopping trip to help us get presents for everyone in our family. Those shopping trips were almost always to the best mall nearby, where we would spend hours hunting down the perfect gift for everyone on our lists. I spent so much time there that I can still tell you today exactly where every store was in that mall in the late 90s.
Alongside the gifts from our siblings, we would also receive gifts from our parents, usually 1-3 big things. “Santa” left us each a big pile of presents and hefty stockings too heavy to be left hanging on the mantle Christmas morning. I remember some of the gifts I received, but mostly I remember the excitement of wondering what was underneath all the wrapping paper.
Looking back in my new role as a parent with a parent’s budget in 2025, the thought of replicating such Christmas gift-giving doesn’t sit well. These last almost two years of parenthood have been incredible and incredibly stressful. It has been hard for me to take care of myself and share my best or even better self with my daughter and my husband. He would say the same himself. Much of that is to be expected as we adjust to new standards and values in this phase of life, but a big source of stress comes from only having so much time and money. I hate the thought of spending those same hours and dollars in a mall hustling between stores to buy stuff my daughter won’t even remember in a few months.
Sitting with that feeling, I became very curious about how much my childhood Christmases used to cost my parents…so I started crunching some numbers.
Opportunity Cost
Let’s Do the Math on Christmas Spending (Because It’s a Little Horrifying)
Most of these gift-heavy Christmas years were in the 90s and early 2000s. For simplicity, I’m going to treat 1998 as my baseline year and call those amounts ‘1998 dollars,’ since most of those big Christmases fell around then.
At the time, a CD cost about $15, and CDs were the currency of Christmas morning. Of course, some of the presents we received and gifted cost a little less than $15 and many cost much more. For the sake of this math moment, let’s continue using $15 as a very conservative base estimate for gift cost.
So we need to calculate the cost of the following gifts for Christmas at my mom’s house:
Sibling gift shopping
Gifts from my parents
Santa gifts
Stocking stuffers
Sibling Gift Shopping – Using $15 as our baseline and assuming 50 gifts total (10 gifts purchased by each of 5 daughters):
$15 x 10 gifts = $150 spent per kid on gifts to siblings/parents
$150 x 5 kids = $750 (in 1998 dollars)
That’s roughly $1,494.48 in 2025 dollars
Santa Gifts – Santa delivered about 3–5 CD-worth of gifts per kid, so let’s split the difference at four:
$15 × 4 = $60 per kid
$60 x 5 kids = $300 (1998 dollars)
That’s roughly $595 in 2025 dollars
Stockings – Another CD’s worth of chocolate, batteries (90s kids know how many AAs a discman used to eat), nail polish, lip gloss, etc.
$15 × 5 kids = $75 in 1998
That’s about $150 in 2025 dollars
And finally, we need to calculate the cost of gifts from our parents.
The gifts my parents gave us were usually some of the bigger items we received. One year, my parents gave me a boombox (Google it, youths). The best I can verify, in the 90s a boombox cost at least $70. Some years presents from my parents were more expensive, some years less. Using $70 as an estimate:
$70 x 5 kids = $350 in 1998
That’s about $700 in 2025 dollars
Adding these four categories of gifts together, we land around:
$750 + $300 + $150 +350 = $1,550 in 1998 dollars, or $310 per kid
$1,550 in 1998 dollars comes to about $3,089 in 2025 dollars, or $618 per kid
And that still did NOT include the amount of money spent by my parents to give gifts to each other or to any extended family and friends.
The Opportunity Cost of Holiday Gift Spending
After crunching these numbers, I plugged them into ChatGPT just to see what would’ve happened if my parents had invested that money instead, assuming the money was invested each year from 1996–2004 and left alone to grow at an average, inflation-adjusted rate of about 7.5% until today. Here’s what I got:
Investing $1,550 each year between 1996–2004 in an S&P 500 index fund averaging 7.5% growth would be worth:
→ $75,000-80,000 today.
From just part of the Christmas spending.
Over only nine years.
Divided five ways, that’s $15,000-16,000 per kid.
Math Note
There are, of course, all kinds of factors not taken into account in my estimations. I didn’t take into account the change in value of the dollars “invested” each year. I didn’t factor in that my oldest step-sister was almost 24 in 2004 and likely buying her own gifts. Nor did I consider that by 2004, almost all of us were teenagers and older, so the gifts we were interested in cost much more, such as my first iPod in 2003. While these numbers aren’t perfect, they are certainly helpful. They give perspective and insight.
Updating the Numbers: What My Mom Actually Spent on Christmas
As it turns out, my numbers were low.
When I called my mom to share all of this, she laughed and said I was absolutely underestimating. She remembered spending more like $500 per kid. Add in decor, food, outfits, activities… and Christmas easily hit $4k–$5k each year.
If you’re keeping track, that’s the equivalent of about $8k–$10k today.
Were you also curious about updated investment opportunity cost figures? Good news for you, I was too. Once again, assuming the money was invested each year from 1996–2004 and left alone to grow at an average, inflation-adjusted rate of about 7.5% until today:
Investing $4,500 each year between 1996–2004 in an S&P 500 index fund averaging 7.5% growth would be worth:
→ $225,000 – $235,000 today.
Divided five ways, that’s $45,000-47,000 per kid. That’s college education money. That’s down payment on a house money. That’s small business startup funding. That’s medical debt-clearing money. That’s BIG life money.
Even more shocking than seeing these numbers, my mom also remembered women in her circle openly going into holiday debt to keep up with Christmas gift expectations.
Talking With My Mom About It
After walking her through the numbers and silently shaking our heads on either side of the phone, she moved onto reflecting about her emotional memories of those days. She said without hesitation that most of what we bought each other was junk—fun, yes, but not lasting. And she said something I’ll never forget:
“If I had given that much energy and focus on an experiential level instead of a material level…
would there have been the same magic?”
She wasn’t being defensive. She wasn’t ashamed. She was simply reflecting, the way parents do when their kids have kids.
And I’m confident the answer is yes—maybe even more.
Because I remember the magic, of course. But I also remember the pressure. The busyness. The borderline frantic energy of “making Christmas happen.”
Decorating was a whole ordeal: multiple trees, garlands, the nativity scene, lights, swapping our regular dishes for Christmas-themed ones, fake candles in every window… And when we moved into a house with tall ceilings, we got a massive fake tree that shredded your hands to ribbons as we spent hours assembling, fluffing, and decorating it.
Needless to say, I did not enjoy decorating for Christmas. I loved the decorations once they were up, but the production of getting them installed took away some of the joy.
Gift-Giving Anxiety Is Real
I wasn’t a little Grinch. I loved Christmas. I loved presents. I loved giving them, too… right up until I felt the pressure of not knowing what to get someone.
There was definitely some early perfectionism training happening there. The panic of not yet finding the perfect gift. The sting of someone opening a gift you’re proud of and looking… underwhelmed. The high of watching someone light up.
Retail marketing knows exactly how to play to these emotions.
Don’t you want to make the people in your life happy? Don’t you want to make sure you give the special people in your life the perfect gift that shows them you love them and know them?
Why Are We Even Doing This?
Here’s my Big Grinch Moment.
Why do adults exchange gifts just because it’s the season?
Not because there’s something meaningful to give.
Not because something reminded you of someone.
But because “it’s what we do.”
There’s nothing inherently special about a gift that exists only because the calendar says so.
Kids are another story, but there is room to rethink their expectations and still create magic intentionally. But adults? We’re the ones holding the purse strings. And we can choose differently.
As an adult now, my love rarely shows up as a physical gift. When it does, it’s random and specific and utterly perfect for that person. Otherwise, I give love through presence, appreciation, conversation, and support. It took my 30s—and therapy—to learn I could show love + care in these ways that felt more authentic to me.
After all, if the only way I can show my love is through material possessions, is it really love?
What This Exercise Showed Me
I in no way judge my mother for her past choices about how we celebrated Christmas in our family. What I was most struck by in this exercise and in my conversation with her was how immediately I understood and felt the harried pressure she experienced back then. The pressure to make everything magical and special. To make sure everyone felt loved, cherished, and included. To forge new memories for our then still newly blended family. To give all of us a sense of place and belonging. She took on so much stress to give us whatever joy she could.
That’s a feeling familiar to many of us. It’s long been a consequence of society treating women as the default coordinators of all things celebratory in our lives. No shade to either my dad or my step-dad, but they weren’t the ones making sure we had all our gifts together to give to all of our family members. They weren’t the ones decorating the house, baking cookies, shopping for Christmas outfits, and wrapping presents. It was all my mom.
I’m sad for my dads that making merry wasn’t a part of their lives. It’s easy to fantasize about just showing up to a celebration without having to do any of the work, but that robbed them of a whole lot of togetherness and memory-making. They didn’t become a participant in “the holidays” until Christmas Eve. One could argue that was their choice, but we have to remember it was (and often still is) the cultural norm. We’re all just humans trying to belong and for better or worse, that search for belonging often looks like conforming to norms that don’t align with our hearts.
I’m sad for my mom too. While she loved and enjoyed celebrating them with us, she didn’t get to experience any of my childhood holidays without stress. I know how easily I feel harried, burnt out, and overwhelmed just managing the day-to-day of keeping house, fulfilling my basic human needs, barely meeting my emotional needs, and keeping my relationships going while learning how to parent an almost two-year-old. Take all that multiplied by 5 girls from ages 3-14 at the start, plus a new husband and new home…then just top it off with Christmas. It’s amazing what she was able to pull off and how present she was able to be given all of that pressure.
I wish she hadn’t felt that material goods and consumerism were the best ways to make our lives special, but I am so grateful that we can talk openly about this now, that she has made the shift in mindset on her own to value more time together over more stuff.
How I’m Doing a Simple, Intentional Christmas With My Daughter
My daughter will be almost two this Christmas. Last year, I can’t even remember what we got her—probably something she needed anyway. That alone says something.
We’re going to let grandparents take care of gifts for her this year. I’ve come up with a list of items she both needs and would enjoy, put it all together on Giftful, and sent that list to all of her grandparents. I’ve made it very clear to all of them that we would prefer to only receive items from the list, but have absolutely no need or expectation for them to give our daughter anything.
I’ve explained that we are tight on storage space, so extra presents just aren’t good for our family and home. I also very easily experience sensory overwhelm due to sounds, so talking/musical toys require strict approval. Classical music toys? Wonderful. Super catchy repetitive songs on talking toys? Absolutely not.
My daughter’s grandparents are also aware of how much I prioritize secondhand shopping, particularly when it comes to children’s items. I have seen enough massive children’s consignment sales, overflowing thrift stores, and plentiful Facebook Marketplace search results to know that, whatever I’m interested in having for my daughter, someone else is trying to offload their gently used version. She’s going to quickly outgrow whatever toys, clothes, or books come her way anyway, so why discard something new after only a few months of use? This year, her wishlist consists of as many secondhand listings as I could find for the items she needs. I linked to listings from Poshmark, eBay, Thriftbooks, and more.
My mother-in-law recently checked with me to see if she could give my daughter a talking and singing Cindy Lou Who toy. While she’s absolutely right that my daughter would be tickled by it, that toy would unfortunately also give her one very strung out mom. We decided that Cindy Lou Who would be a toy that lives at grandma’s house. I cannot express how much I appreciate having grandparents that respect my boundaries and check with me about gifts without taking any kind of offense. None of this is personal, but I do what I must to take care of my family and that means supporting my own sanity.
We’re figuring it out as we go.
But I do know this:
I want my daughter to grow up knowing that magic isn’t something you buy, no matter what Christmas ads and gift guides say.
Magic is attention.
Magic is time.
Magic is care.
Magic is intentionality.
Magic is presence.
And—perhaps most importantly—magic doesn’t require a credit card.
FAQ: Rethinking Holiday Gift-Giving
Do you think parents shouldn’t buy Christmas gifts?
Not at all. Gifts can be joyful, meaningful, and fun. What I’m questioning is the expectation that more gifts automatically equal more magic. I’m learning that the magic my daughter remembers will come from presence, connection, and rituals—not the number of boxes under the tree.
Isn’t gift-giving part of the tradition?
It absolutely is. And traditions can evolve as our lives, values, and capacities evolve. Many millennial parents are rethinking holiday spending because we’re navigating a different economic reality—and because we want to model intentionality, not exhaustion.
How do you simplify Christmas with kids without losing the magic?
By defining what your family’s magic looks like. Focus on experiences, slow moments, simple rituals, and a few thoughtful gifts. Kids don’t need piles of presents—they need attuned adults, dependable rhythms, and memories rooted in joy rather than chaos.
What if grandparents go overboard?
Clear expectations help. So does a wishlist with items you actually want in the house. When everyone knows the boundaries—storage space, sensory needs, secondhand preferences—it becomes easier to protect your family’s peace while letting grandparents participate with love.
Isn’t it harsh to opt out of adult gift exchanges?
It doesn’t have to be. Many adults are relieved when someone finally says out loud:
“We don’t need to exchange gifts to exchange love.”
Presence, conversation, shared meals, and time together often feel more meaningful than hurriedly purchased stuff.
Kelley Jonkoff, founder of Unfolde, is a home organizer and writer exploring how our spaces shape our stress, our relationships, and our daily lives. Through her work, she helps families simplify their homes with intention—and writes about the deeper emotional work behind organizing and letting go.