A Christmas Story has always been one of my favorite Christmas movies. Over the years, I always related to Ralphie, the poor soul, as he battled bullies and agonized over whether or not he was going to get his dream gift for Christmas. I spent many days in my childhood doing the same. I loved the Service Merchandise catalog and would pour through the toy section every year hoping and praying for treasured gifts. I would make numerous lists and hope that my Mother would find them. We didn't necessarily always get exactly what we wanted, but we had nice Christmases.
In addition to all of that, the movie is simply hilarious!
We watched the movie with the boys the other night, and B loved it. He has seen it before, but never paid attention to it. It was probably a little too old for him until this year anyway (he is now almost 6). He was so excited for Ralphie to get that bully and to receive his dream gift under the tree. He told me it was the best movie ever!
For some reason, while watching, I noticed several things for the first time - even though I have seen this movie at least a million times. Several things suddenly occurred to me...
(1) I no longer identify with Ralphie. I have become the Mother.
There she is spending all of her time in the kitchen, scurrying around to keep peace in the house, waiting on everyone hand and foot, trying to keep a sense of decency to things, and looking a bit haggard in the process - yep, that's me!
(2) The Canadian is the "Old Mann". Oh Lord, is it true!
With his get rich quick puzzle, his tacky taste, his hostility towards things that break and the neighbors unruly dogs, his nose buried in the sports page, his made up words (saying it is a word in Canada), his hounding of the food in the house, his bad language - yep, that's Doug! But at the same time, he shows he has a heart in the end and did in fact listen to something his child said by getting him the gun, and yes, the Canadian does have a heart in there somewhere.
(3) Brodie has become Ralphie.
He makes lists of his desired gifts, draws pictures, writes letters, drags me in to see commercials, schemes ways to try to get more items on his list (I told him to limit it to 5 items this year), writes in his journal at school about what he wants, studies toysrus.com, etc. He worries and agonizes over things like Raphie, too.
(4) Blayd is Randy the little brother.
He's the kid that won't eat, who is always running after his big brother, a bit sensitive and hiding under kitchen cabinets, and he hates to wear jackets. Definitely my little b!
It was so weird as I lay there in bed and thought about all of these connections. I am not sure exactly when these "role changes" occurred, but they have none-the-less. Isn't it funny how time goes by and even a silly little movie, that you have seen a million times, can highlight the person you were and the person you are becoming.
And maybe it's not such a bad thing - except the haggard part.
I need to work on that.