A Boy Called Christmas

If there's one thing you can depend on with kids, it's that they'll always surprise you. 

"Mum, can we watch this one tonight?" The Dude asked me as I frantically sweated it out in the kitchen trying not to destroy dinner. 

"Yeah, no problem," I replied, as I put the finishing touches to Lala's vegetarian shepherd's pie, not daring to take my eyes off it as I popped it in the oven.

"Did you even look?" The Dude asked, in that snarky teenage manner he  has perfected in recent months.

"Eh?" I replied, as his comment sunk in and I shot a sneaky glance at the TV. "Of course I looked..." I started to retort, in one of my more indignant tones, when I spotted the image on the screen.  Instead of the usual shoot 'em up action fests which he has become fond of lately, there was a Christmassy image of a very innocent looking boy in snow and if I wasn't mistaken he seemed to have a pet mouse. The words A Boy Called Christmas were splattered above the image in ornate gold letters and there could be no doubt this film is aimed squarely at kids - as in under twelves.

"What's that?" I asked.

The Dude shot me a smug smile. "I knew you didn't look."

I dismissed his observation with a wave of my hand. "Are you going to answer my question or not?"

I'm treated to a raised eyebrow that lets me know he's letting me away with my dismissive handwaving but he's not forgetting my little porky pie of a white lie. "It's the movie I want to watch tonight. It looks good."

Something explodes in the oven but instead of investigating I look more closely at my son, and beneath the carefully constructed teenage hair and laconic attitude I see the sparkle of childhood wonder and excitement twinkling in his eyes. The little boy who would get lost in Christmas classics like The Polar Express, Elf and Miracle On 34th Street is still in there and my heart melts. "Well, if you're sure you want to watch it, then yeah, of course we can watch it."

"Yeah!" he happily declares as he presses the select button.

Two hours later, a huge smile on his face, he proclaimed A Boy Called Christmas to be "one of the best Christmas movies ever!"

And he's not wrong. Destined to become a classic - A Boy Called Christmas is visually delicious with a tight plot that all comes together quite nicely. However, it has an edge and doesn't flinch from the brutal topic of loss and death which sadly is the reality for so many and hits particularly hard at this time of year.

The film presents a new angle on the origin story of Christmas - taking major elements of Christmas traditions from various countries and weaving them together to make a plausible story. I particularly liked how Christmas crackers were woven into the tale.

The young hero - Nikolas - can be a bit too starry eyed at times but at the end of the day, that's the whole point. He's the incorruptible soul whose destiny is to bring joy and cheer to the world. So, if you can't have the future Father Christmas as the ultimate do-gooder then who can you have!

The performances are spot on and I personally loved Maggie Smith's unapologetic narrator and Jim Broadbent's eccentric king but special mention must go to the unrecognisable Kristen Wiig as the hateful aunt. However, most of all, I loved how my son got lost in the magic of a Christmas movie one more time. It was an early Christmas gift that I didn't see coming.

They Seek Him Here, They Seek Him There But Santa Is Simply Everywhere!

I was walking along the local strip of bars and restaurants the other day with the kiddies when the Dude suddenly grabbed my hand and said, "don't look now but Santa is sitting at that restaurant."

Part Of The Local Strip

I immediately started "looking". 

"Mum, stop!" The Dude demanded.
"Why?" I asked, "why do you not want me to see Santa?"
"Because," he replied, "I haven't exactly been on my best behaviour in the past few days and if he sees me he might be able to tell."

I struggled to hold back my smug grin.

"Ok," I said, "you walk on a bit and I'll have a peek and see if it really is him."
The Dude was thrilled with this idea and immediately skipped away.

However, at this stage his sister was wondering what the hell was going on. He hadn't got far when she turned around to say something and obviously spotted "Santa".

"Oh my God!" she announced, "there's a guy over there that looks just like Santa!"

At this point I just HAD to see this guy!

I turned and my mouth dropped as I confirmed with my own eyes that Santa was indeed having coffee in the local 'hood. He was dressed in a mustard yellow shirt with light brown trousers but there was no doubt this guy was Santa! I turned back to The Dude to tell him he was right, only to discover my son beaming brightly and waving at Santa! On being spotted, he'd obviously very quickly changed strategy!

In His Usual Guise of Red Suit
The One & Only
 Santa Claus!

I turned again to look at "Santa" who was now smiling and waving back at the Dude. He then gave a special wave and a nod and a wink in my direction and a mutual understanding passed between us. I nodded and smiled back and I laughed all the way home.

Ah Santa - they seek him here and they seek him there but Santa?  Santa is everywhere!😀

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

The letters have been written.

Letters To Santa

The Christmas Tree is up.

The Christmas Tree

The candle's in the window.

The Candle In The Window

The angels are singing.

A Christmas Angel At Mad Mammy Towers

The presents are delivered.

Presents Under The Tree

Now, let Christmas begin!

Happy Christmas to you all from the Mad Mammy.

La-la's Christmas Tree

Happy Christmas

Apparently it's Christmas Eve.  I know this because I have two kids who are besides themselves with excitement and also there is a smattering of Christmas decorations across Brisbane.  Other than that there is nothing to differentiate today from any other day.  Oh apart from some last minute shopping hysteria after which Big Daddy was forced to knock back a few beers in order to recover!  Christmas in Brisbane takes place at the height of summer and I have to admit to finding this difficult to deal with and there isn't the same buzz here as there is in Ireland.  Christmas Eve in Ireland is a time when everyone is out and about getting last minute bits and pieces.  It's a day where you happily run into old friends and usually go for a few drinks.  Brisbane on Christmas Eve is like a ghost town.

This is my third Christmas in Brisbane and I have to admit to struggling with it and along with that I have been wrestling some vicious homesickness.  It's all very well signing up for the big travel adventure but it comes with some serious pot-holes along the way and Christmas in Australia is one of them for me.

The problem is I have two kids and I'd rather pull Santa's sleigh aound the world by myself than do anything to spoil their Christmas, so going around like an old misery guts is not an option.  Still I have to admit to having being a little down and distracted and I had no idea how I was going to shake this particular funk off.  And then I received a beautiful Christmas present from my daughter.

This is the hand-made wrapping paper it came in:

The Wrapping Paper - Made By Her Own Fair Hands

This is the card that accompanied it:

Christmas Kisses

And this is the gift:

My Very Own Snowflake

Which was accompanied by this:

The love and devotion with which she put it all together just blew me away and I realised that Christmas is less about location and more about the place you are within yourself.  I'd much rather be in the West of Ireland right now but I'm not, I'm in Brisbane and I intend to be fully present for the festivities - anything less would be letting my little girl and her brother down so I'm going to try and have the best Christmas I can and I hope you do too.
Happy Christmas - The Mad Mammy.

Pause

So here we are at that time of year again when Santa's little helpers (also known as mothers) scuttle around doing all the things they usually do and on top of all that try and find the time to plan, organise, shop, decorate and do a million other things to create what is generally known as Christmas. The Mad Mammy was holding her own in the global Christmas chain when a massive pre-Christmas bomb was landed in her lap.  A house move!

"You have gotta be kidding me!" I screeched as I read the notice but unfortunately they weren't and to compound things the kids got their holidays a few days later. Summer holidays take place over Christmas here in Australia so on top of looking for new accommodation I now had two kids to keep happy all day and believe me their idea of fun is NOT mammy on the computer looking for prospective properties or then waiting in 35+ degrees heat for a real estate agent to show so that we can see if said properties are suitable or not.

So to say that the Mad Mammy has been a little distracted since my last post is something  of an understatement.  In an effort to take a break and give the kids a much needed run-around we all headed out to Wynnum Kids' Water Park a few days ago.

Wynnum Water Park

The day was hot and La-la and The Dude had great fun cooling off in the water park and with the aid of their new water pistols.  I took a long walk along the promenade with Miss Billie and by the time we were headed home my head was feeling a little straighter.  Which is just as well.

We were half-way home when I had to stop at a traffic lights.  The road was quiet and the kids asked if they could put their windows down.  They had been having a great game of spys and secret agents so I said sure, no problem but no spraying water out of the windows with the water pistols.  The Dude proceeded to line up a few targets and pretend shoot them.  I have to admit, the closer I was getting back to base, the more my head was becoming crowded again with my endless to do lists.  I was just mentally adding another few items to list number three when I heard a strange voice snarl, "hey watch what you're doing."  I looked back and through the Dude's open window I could see an older couple sitting in a  car.  The man was at the wheel and he was scowling at the Dude and now at me.
"He just sprayed water in my face," he protested, with an aggressive jut of his head in the Dude's direction.  It was obvious he expected me to tear seven kinds of strips off the Dude.  There is a significant proportion of the Australian populace who believe that children and boys in particular are nothing better than unruly brats that need "sorting out".  It was obvious the Aussie version of Victor Meldrew currently scowling at me was a subscriber to this belief.

Victor Meldrew - The Poster Boy For Cranky Old Men

I have to admit, I was a little taken aback. The Dude is a lot of things and can send me to the edge of demented with some of his antics but once he is told he can't do something, like spray water from his water pistol out a car window, he won't do it and he most certainly wouldn't spray a random stranger in the face like this guy was trying to make out that he did!  I was at a bit of a loss but I may have mentioned the thousand and one things running around my head, so without thinking I immediately apologised to Mr. Angry Pants. I was about to launch into a mega telling-off of the Dude when something caused me to pause.  A teeny weeny voice of reason managed to squeeze through all the crap in my head and tell me that something was off.  And then I looked at my little boy's face and I saw all I needed to see - shock, fear and most terribly of all shame.  I had already started with the telling-off but I stopped.  I could see him retreating into himself.  Tears shone at the sides of his eyes and I suddenly realised what had happened.  The Dude had been happily pretend shooting the imaginary bad guys when, in his excitement, he had accidentally pressed the water pistol's trigger, resulting in a small spray of water that Mr. Angry Pants had then driven into.
"A accident," was all he could choke out in his defence.  I halted the telling off and told him I understood what had happened but that he needed to put the window up now.  The traffic lights changed and Mr. Angry Pants scowled past us, which is just as well because at this stage Bid Daddy had lowered his window and was brandishing the water pistol.

The Offending Water Pistol

I drove on, grateful for the tiny voice of reason that had managed to push it's way through all the other noise in my head.  I've been thinking about this incident a lot and I've come to realise it's when we are totally spinning out of control that we most need to press pause, take some time out and re-calibrate.  So this is my advice to all of Santa's little helpers out there - in amongst all the planning, organising, shopping, list-making, decorating, cooking, cleaning etc take some time out, calm down and re-set the internal emotional landscape.  I'm willing to bet it will make for a much happier Christmas for everybody and most importantly Santa's exhausted helpers.