Thursday, December 25, 2014


My Friday post is coming at you a day early this week in honor of my absolute favorite holiday…CHRISTMAS!!  I wish you and yours a very, very merry one.

I was lying sick in bed last week, playing on my iPhone, when I ran across this video on my Facebook feed:

I immediately called my boys, who were eating dinner with their dad in the kitchen.  They came tumbling one after the other into my bedroom. 

“What is it, Mom?”

“Do you need more chicken soup, Mommy?”

“No,” I said, sitting up so I could show them my phone.  “I wanted to show you guys this video someone got of Rudolph.”

“THE RED-NOSED REINDEER?!” squealed my 3-year-old.

“The one and only,” I answered.

Both of my boys scrambled onto my bed, careful not to touch any of the used Kleenexes that were surrounding me.  After watching for a few moments, my kindergartener glanced up at me suspiciously.  “MOM,” he said.  “With technology these days,"  (That's how he said it, with technology these days) "people can easily add stuff like that glowing nose…” 

He could hardly tear his eyes away from the phone’s screen, however, and as soon as he’d vocalized his doubt, his stare was back on Rudolph.  “Whose video is this?” he murmured.

“I don’t know, buddy,” I replied. “Someone caught it on video in their backyard and shared it on Facebook.  Now people keep watching and sharing it because they’re fascinated by it.  Dad and I think it’s real.”

My kindergartener, his brother watching the video intently over his shoulder, studied it for a few more moments.  “Mom,” he said, pointing to a spot on the video, “is that north?”

“You know I can’t read maps, buddy,” I answered.

My son heaved a huge sigh before he leapt off the bed, phone in hand.  “DAD!” he screamed.  His brother followed just behind him as he ran into the kitchen to show his dad the phone.  “Is that north?” I heard him ask.

“Imagine there’s a compass on the screen,” my husband explained patiently.  “North would be right here.  So, yes, that’s north.”

I heard two pairs of lightning-fast footsteps fly back down the hallway to my room.  “MOM!” my kindergartener was screaming as he barreled through my bedroom doorway.  “I think it IS the real Rudolph!  He’s heading north!”

“Why does that prove it?” I asked.  “Why would you assume that the real Rudolph is heading north?”

My kindergartener froze, eyes wide as if trying to figure out if he should even respond to my stupidity.  And then—I am not even making this up—he furrowed his brow in the best look of consternation I’d ever seen and said, “Is that a real question you just asked me?”

I wonder where he gets that from.  Oops.

“Because hellooo,” he continued.  “Santa/North Pole?  Santa/North Pole?”

As he repeated the words, he thrust his whole body, arms extended and bent at the elbows, to the left and then to the right and then back again, emphasizing his point.  I tried hard to stifle a smile.

“You may not know maps, Mom,” he said, “but you HAVE to know that the North Pole is in the North.  It’s in the name.”

My son gave a slow, exaggerated roll of his eyes and then shook his head with a mixture of sadness and pity—clearly wondering where he went wrong—before handing me the phone and walking back to the kitchen to finish his dinner.

Funny, I remember getting that exact same look from my dad in this situation.

I like to write my stories to entertain, so beyond that, I don’t look to make some high-standing point or moral in everything that I publish on this blog...because, holy shit, it's a lot of curse words to sift through in order to find it.  I hope that my blog simply portrays--in some kind of backwards, cussing-like-a-sailor kind of way--my joy for life even in situations that others might find mundane; and my belief in the importance of laughing, even during the hard parts.

Oh, and most importantly, how damn much I love my husband, my kids, and my family.  They know that every time I type something like "drug-addled prostitute," what I really mean is, "Get over here and give me a hug, you big asshole, because I LOVE YOU!"

But maybe my boy inadvertantly gave us a "moral" here, and that is to BELIEVE.  This season and all throughout the coming year, believe in God, believe in the good of man, believe in yourself and your family and your dreams.


There are instances in my life—usually very random but sometimes in times of turmoil such as the Wild West type craziness that seems to be going on in the world right now—when I have as much difficulty as anyone with this…especially the good of man one.  But I’m willing to try if you are.

And dammit, that’s about as sappy as it gets around here. I’m already getting all uncomfortable with all of these…emotions (ugh!)…so with that, I’ll say Merry Christmas!   I hope you’ll come back to read more next week!

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