A Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

About 7 years ago, I can remember celebrating Christmas, sporting a very fashionably pregnant belly, thinking, "Finally, this is the last Christmas we will spend as a couple childless--the last lonely Christmas without the happy music of childish laughter." Seven years later, I am decorating the tree, ducking foam bullets, trying to maintain my Peace on Earth.

This year Vaughn’s current obsession is all things warlike, largely Nerf manufactured. He wants a whole arsenal of Nerf weapons, evidently to subdue all of mankind through the threat of being pummeled to death by foam. I really don’t know where this is coming from. I am one bullet short of pacifist and Dave is one shoe shopping expedition away from being a woman. I blame testosterone…and peer pressure. Vaughn displays all the markings of a PMSing teenage female, except for this one blaring penchant for camouflage and weaponry. Last year, his obsession was all things oceanic, and before that, it was all things train. Now, he is obsessed with warfare, once again reinforcing my opinion that we as parents are merely facilitators, with little to almost no control over our children’s personal tastes and choices, and I am evidently failing in my facilitating capacity of driving home diplomacy over weaponry. Eh, whatever. A few years ago I was a gunless NRA member, courtesy of my dad, his Christmas present to us kids. (However, let’s be totally clear: If there were a playground full of children with a sniper on a nearby roof knocking them out one by one like fish in a barrel, I would have absolutely no qualms about taking the guy out as expeditiously as possible, and I wouldn’t feel bad about it…at all. That’s my one bullet.)

Due to the unusual Portland Colorado-like weather, I was hindered in my usual holiday activities. I had uncharacteristically procrastinated my Christmas present shopping for Vaughn, largely due to his current fascination with all things combative. I don’t have a problem with buying boys toy guns per se. I have no delusion about boys’ inventiveness in terms of creating weapons of mass destruction out of seemingly benign materials—I have 5 nephews, after all. I just have no enthusiasm for it. I was hoping at some point Vaughn’s interest would turn to something more…I don’t know…girlish? Or, dare I dream, musical? (I realize that might just be redundant.)

After weeks of Vaughn playing ad nauseum obscure YouTube videos of disturbingly intense Nerf aficionados singing the praises of all things Nerf gun related, I resigned myself to the fact that I would be spending Christmas vacation at the nearest Walmart getting the best deal I could on the Nerf N’ Strike Vulcan EBF-25 blaster—an automated foam weapon, no less, battery operated, for more foam assault power. Unfortunately, Christmas vacation came early due to Portland’s inability to deal with anything more than an inch of snow, which, this time, as it turns out, turned out to be more like 18 inches, so the city was completely incapacitated. Thus, about a week before Christmas finds me explaining to Vaughn that I e-mailed Santa about his request, and Santa was backordered on that particular item, and he just might not get it this Christmas. (This turned out to be on the Christmas hot toy list for this year…Figures.) Two days before Christmas, I am shopping in a SUPER Walmart buying Vaughn’s latest Nerf gun requests, sans Vulcan, and anything military/combat related I can get my hands on, all the while grinding my teeth, reminding myself that I DO support our troops. I just have a problem supporting my 6-year-old running around in camouflage pajamas, dodging his Nerf bullets whilst I‘m trimming the tree on Christmas Eve, all the while Vaughn singing “Santa Claus is coming to town. *POW* *POW*”

Nevertheless, Christmas morning, after Santa’s visit tonight, Vaughn will awake to find two new additions to his Nerf arsenal under the tree, as well as Nerf ammunition, an ammo belt with even more ammunition, a complete military set, including walkie talkies, army helmet, and fake grenades (can’t wait for those to be launched at me). Yet another Christmas not quite meeting my pre-parent visions of Christmases to come.

However, as we watch A Christmas Story (one of my all time favorite Christmas movies, next to It’s a Wonderful Life), I realize that this is part of Christmas, is it not? Realizing that no matter how much we idealize this holiday, how much magic we try to artificially inject into it, no matter how unrealistic the expectations, we all share this human connection of vulnerability and fallibility. Christmas will never quite live up to our childish expectations, but that’s okay, because isn’t that what the whole day epitomizes—our lack of perfection or ability to achieve it? Whether you believe in the actual event that started it all or not—you cannot deny the underlying symbolism. We are imperfect and unable to achieve perfection on our own, no matter our efforts or desires. But it’s this imperfection that makes us human. That enables us to empathize with our fellow human beings frailties and pitfalls, and it is on this day as we still consciously or subconsciously cling to our childish idealisms we can gather and sing carols and stuff ourselves with turkey and endure the company of people we would perhaps otherwise not endure and realize that THAT is what makes Christmas…our shared human imperfection—“God Bless Us Everyone.”