“I just feel so bad whenever I’m gone,” shared a friend who flies frequently for her job. “And the younger one cries and keeps saying she wants mummy. I buy them presents from the airport and toy shops to cheer them up. I know it’s not healthy but … it’s better than nothing, right?”

I hear her. Parents buy stuff for their children all the time for all kinds of reasons — hey, sale! But whenever I’m away, I find I am somehow under extra pressure to hunt down that perfect present for my two-year-old in the little spare time I have in between meetings and meals. And I am prepared with all kinds of validations to buy and buy. I would say “It’s for a good cause” because the bag or toy is made by some disadvantaged community or charity. I would convince myself that the improbability of me revisiting this place is reason enough to make the purchase. I do the math and justify that it is not that expensive, and even declare that buying the item means my daughter will get something small for her birthday.

It is a common conundrum faced by parents who travel for work. Think about it. Didn’t you buy something for your children to make up for your absence? And how special does the gift have to be for them to squeal in joy and forgive you for the five days you were gone? Let’s not forget something for the spouse, mother-in-law and helper, too, for helping pick up the slack.

IMPULSE BUYING

I blame telco companies for this unique form of impulse buying. With their big-budget advertising dollars, telegenic cast and soft focus filter effect, they play up long distance relationships. A sad child at home talks to daddy (yes, it is still a little sexist like that) who appears to be in an airport. Before the child knows it, a giant rocket ship/teddy bear/doll house/insert toy of the moment appears at the door. Cue shrieks of delight and a happy cherubic face. Oh, by the way, daddy’s home too! That is exactly how reunions should be. In fact, that ubiquitous image has been shoved down our throats so often, one begins to suspect that a parent is inadequate or uncaring if he or she doesn’t return home bearing gifts.

Interestingly, it is more mothers I spoke to who feel the need to go out of their way to spend money to make up for not spending time. They rattled off reasons of classic guilt coupled with the desire to connect. “It shows that I’ve been thinking of them,” said one. While another explained that it is a complex combination of personal desire (“I secretly want that set of blocks”), checking off a parental duty (“It’s educational for Junior too!”) and a martyr mentality (“How do you think I look like to my children and husband if I came back empty-handed?”)

Many of my male friends take a more laissez-faire approach. My husband doesn’t even feel the need to buy anything for our daughter when he travels for work. “No time and no need lah! In meetings all day!” A guy friend practically chided me when I inquired. I suspect it is because men might simply be less caught up in the emotional significance of presents.

GOOD ENOUGH

Most children under the age of four are just glad to receive something new and cute. It does not have to cost much either. In my most recent trip to Thailand, I bought a cat ears’ hairband that comes with an accompanying furry tail for 50 baht (S$2) that amused my daughter to no end. I consider any souvenir successful when she is still playing with it a week later.

I wish it were always this easy. The older child gets, the harder it is to impress them. More disturbingly, older ones may come to expect gifts every time you go away. Or worse, as they grow used to receiving gifts, they simply toss them aside after mumbling a cursory thank-you.

It is not their fault. These habits and expectations are formed because adults allow it. And, let’s be honest, we probably get carried away shopping because it is fun and gratifying to buy something nice and unique for our children, who are really extensions of ourselves. To deny them something is to deny ourselves that joy.

We have to remind ourselves in this age of “affluenza” — an affliction defined as rampant materialism and consumerism — that we might be better off giving less to the next generation and having less ourselves. I know it is easier said than done. But that disappointment of not getting something could be considered a priceless life lesson. Building a child’s resilience while we are away might be the greatest gift we can give. Which is why I shall resist the temptation to bribe my way out of this difficulty the next time I jet off.