Die Hard: is it a Christmas movie?

Until last night, I had never seen Die Hard. 

It’s been around since 1988, so I knew the important things about it:

• Bruce Willis says “yippie-ki-yay, motherfucker.” Everyone knows that.

• It gave us the gift of Alan Rickman. Bless you, Die Hard.

• John McClane is the good guy and Hans Gruber is the bad guy.

• Hans Gruber falls off a tower.

• John McClane probably lives because there are a bajillion sequels.

• People seem to be divided over whether or not Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

I am not a big fan of action movies, but I was really excited to finally watch Die Hard. It’s a pillar of American cinema, after all. My dad has said to me (more than once) that he failed as a parent because I moved out of his house before watching Die Hard. And then still didn’t watch it for another 18 years.

I actually really liked Die Hard. Going in blind (except knowing the very general way in which it ends) was really fun. I didn’t know Bruce Willis had his shoes off the whole time, and there were plenty of truly hilarious one-liners. There were lots of surprise 80s celebrity sightings - Carl Winslow from Family Matters, the jerk principal (“mess with the bull, you’ll get the horns”) from The Breakfast Club, and a couple of passing faces from The Goonies. It was great.

To the question at hand: is Die Hard a Christmas movie?

My initial reaction is to say yes. It is set at Christmas time, and there are elements of Christmas that are present in the plot (“now I have a machine gun, ho ho ho”). Question answered.

But then, while up during the wee hours of the morning with seven-week-old-Robin, I thought more about it. This is when I do my best thinking: when you’re sleep deprived enough to be on the edge of delirium but you’re not there yet so your thoughts are just flexible enough but not fully off the charts. 

Anyway, I got to thinking about what makes every other Christmas movie a Christmas movie. My personal favorites are the likes of Christmas Vacation, Home Alone I and II, The Muppet Christmas Carol, A Christmas Story, and Mickey’s Christmas Carol. 

They all take place at Christmas.

Die Hard does that.

They all have happy endings.

Unless you’re Hans Gruber, Die Hard does that.

Christmas is a central part of the plot - almost like another character.

Hmm. Nope. Die Hard could be set at any time of the year.

I would not watch any of these Christmas movies any other time of the year.

No, I would not. But I would not have a problem watching Die Hard in July.

So I can’t in good conscience lump Die Hard in with all your run-of-the mill Christmas movies. It is, but it isn’t. I have a rule that Christmas movies should only be watched during December, and then they can fuck right off. But I would not apply that to Die Hard. I would also not have a problem watching it as a Christmas movie.

So I feel I can’t give a good answer to the “Christmas movie or not” debate. 

What do you think?

life’s pause button.

I am at a conference in the cities this weekend, and I brought Robin with me. During a break, he and I had just settled in for some really good snuggles, but we only had about ten minutes before I was due at a meeting. I REALLY wanted to keep on snuggling. 

I thought, not for the first time, how amazing it would be if life had a pause button.

Truly, I have given this a ton of thought. I want a pause button, a rewind button, and a fast-forward button.

I have thought about it so much I actually have rules.

PAUSE

When you hit pause, there is a time limit of just a couple of hours at a time. Time pauses only for you and whoever you link to - I’m not sure how the linking will work, but it’s like teleporting in Harry Potter. You can’t do anything illegal when you pause time, or even slightly nefarious - you can’t even touch other people. It’s designed to do nothing but allow you and your loved ones more innocent joy - sneak in more snuggles with your baby or spend a few more hours at a museum on vacation or make your day at the lake last a little longer. 

REWIND

Rewind could take you a little further. Rewind is meant to fix little stupid shit that nags at you your entire life, or to do something small you wish you had been able to. An example: my mom once put one of her senior pictures on top of my laundry basket when I was a kid - I was ten or so. I thought it was an accident, so I put it back on her dresser. Later on, she sadly said something like “I see you didn’t want that picture of me.” I was MORTIFIED that I had made her feel bad. Typing this out now makes my stomach churn. I told her about this a few years ago, and she has no memory of it, THANK GOD. But I do and would absolutely undo it if I could, even though it was a stupid misunderstanding. So that’s the intent of rewind. It’s for getting a day to talk to my grandpa Harvey - he had a stroke and lost his ability to speak when I was six. It’s for just saying “yes” right away when I was offered the library director job in Luverne instead of “Can I think about it?” (Why did I say that? I knew I was going to take it. I was excited; just scared. What a jerk.) It’s not for going back in time and writing Beatles songs before they could write them, or for going back and making bets on sports when you know the actual outcome from the future (remember how wrong that went in Back to the Future 2?). But maybe it could be for going back in time and killing Hitler before he could become Hitler. Jury’s out.

FAST FORWARD 

Finally, fast-forward. Fast-forward, like pause, is also for the short-term. While I often think about how great my life will be when I am no longer responsible for wiping anyone’s butt but my own, I know I don’t actually want to skip over this part of my life. As much as I get so freaking sick about hearing about washing machines and robot vacuums (looking at you, Phineas), I will also miss the sweet hugs and kisses that come along with that (also looking at you, Phineas). Fast forward is for the real shitty stuff that does nothing at all for anyone - those long hours in the middle of the night when Robin is screaming his head off. When anyone has the stomach flu. Could have used fast forward when I was about to jump out of my skin nervously waiting for labor to start with Robin. 

I must reiterate these remote-like functions can only be used for unequivocal good. They can’t be used for selfish gains (well, fast forwarding through pain and suffering doesn’t seem that selfish), just absolute and unobjectionable good. 

Unlike pause, which effects only you, fast-forward and rewind will have to take the rest of the world along with you. Obviously this is all way above my pay grade; I’m just the ideas guy.

While we’re dreaming, let’s dream big and add in channel-changing as teleportation. How awesome would that be?!

OH! And a closed captioning button for when it’s too noisy and I can’t hear someone, and a volume button (or, let’s be real, a mute button) for my children, and I guess life might just need a whole damn remote control.

the world's okayest mom.

(editor's note: this particular post is very stream-of-consciousness, meaning it's not particularly polished. Mostly because I'm only fueled by caffeine and little to no sleep. I told James the other day I could hear his aura and it sounded like soft string music. I was stone cold sober but hadn't slept the night before. Consider yourself warned.)

You know those mugs that say "world's okayest mom"?

That's me.

No, really.

I have completely accepted it.

Like - I love my kids, and I'm 99% sure I would jump in between them and a starving grizzly bear. But sometimes I would give anything for them to be quiet and leave me alone for a few hours.

I knew from a very young age motherhood wasn't my calling. Baby dolls weren't my jam, and neither was playing house. I preferred Barbie: she had careers and friends and amazing clothes. 

Babysitting was not my thing, either. I'd do it occasionally for neighbors or cousins, but these kids were talking and most definitely potty-trained. The first diaper I ever changed was my son Phineas's. I was almost 33 years old. (I tend to shock people with that one, and it cracks me up.)

Nobody expected me to have kids. I mean, nobody. It seriously was the "her?" running joke from Arrested Development.

"Calla's having a baby? Are you sure it's the right Calla? Is it on PURPOSE?"

(yes, it was on purpose.)

Phineas had me pegged right away.

Maybe that's an oldest child thing. As a fellow firstborn, I think we're pretty good at spotting the people who don't have a clue what they're doing. Look at that face. Phineas knew I was totally in over my head.

And I was. I had held just a couple of babies in my entire life, and I was so scared to hold Phineas. I was scared of Phineas in general. He was five weeks early, so he had all sorts of tubes and monitors and I was sure I was going to break him. (spoiler alert: I didn't.) 

The poor firstborns. They're the guinea pigs. Their idiot first-time parents are just throwing (metaphorical) things at them to see what sticks. 

Honestly, that's what we're doing with our second-born, Robin, as well. It's been too long and we've had too much sleep deprivation to really remember what we did the first time. Except I know I'm not scared of Robin.

(But maybe I should be. That kid PUNCHED A HOLE through the back of my uterus so big I had an emergency hysterectomy and almost bled to death. So I'd better keep my eye on him.)

Robin is only a month old, so we're in the trenches here. I feel like I can do only the bare minimum for both of my kids, leaving me at just "ok" status. I can half-play with Phineas because I need to use the other arm to hold Robin, or I have to hold Robin's bottle with my chin so I can help Phineas zip his coat. I feel like I'm not even a very decent cat mom right now - they all like to snuggle and since I'm always holding a baby, their snuggle time has really diminished. Poor things!

Where was I going with this?

THIS IS MY LIFE RIGHT NOW.

I wander off, physically and/or mentally, and don't know why I am there.

Back to how I'm the okayest mom.

Do you have a daily non-negotiable? Something that you HAVE to do each day to make you feel like a human? For some people, it's having their daily cup of coffee. For my mom, it's her daily can of Dr. Pepper. For me, it's taking a shower every day. Even if I'm not going to leave the house, I have to take a shower every day and put on clean clothes - I might just be changing into a new pair of pajamas, but this small act gives me just enough to not spiral into a deep depression. 

Taking that shower, though, requires me leaving Robin alone for approximately five minutes. He could be dead asleep when I leave to get in the shower, but he is always - ALWAYS - screaming when I get out. 

Bro - I gave up a ton for you. I sacrificed my body (remember that uterus?), my social life, a bit of my sanity, and who knows what else for you. I cannot and will not give up this one small thing that makes me feel like a human person each day.

And if that makes me selfish, so be it. Another mark in the "okayest mom" column.

Did you know dads are widely considered the more "fun" parent because - and this is a scientific fact, not just me being a dick - men's brains mature more slowly than women's? Therefore, their brains are more childlike and can more easily slip into the "play" state. When I heard this, it was like DUHHHH. Phineas definitely prefers James to me when it comes to playing pretend, which is absolutely great with me. I really don't enjoy playing pretend - I think my imagination may have died out on me quite some time ago. But being imaginative is not the same as being creative, and I'll be damned if I'm not creative.

I felt bad about not enjoying playing pretend with Phineas - treasure every moment, right? But now with two kids when my time is especially limited, I am giving myself permission to not treasure every moment. I will absolutely fake it til I make it with the kids, but I don't have to do that to myself. That doesn't make me a shitty mom. It makes me the okayest mom. 

I'll never win any awards for "world's best mom;" I can't do any of the "traditional" mom stuff. I can't bake anything from scratch, I can't sew, I can't cook, I won't be the head of the PTA or whatever else parents these days are expected to do. I'm not the worst mother, either - fortunately for me and unfortunately for others, there's a long way to go before worst mother.

What I can do is adventure. I can read books. I can teach my kids about the world around them. I can learn alongside with them. I can teach them how to be good people and how to admit when you're wrong. I am full of interesting but predominantly useless facts I can pass onto them. I am not good at drawing or painting but I would like to do it alongside with them all the same. I will tell myself that I won't embarrass them because I can't possibly be embarrassing but I will completely humiliate them somehow without even knowing it. And I can love them. 

I think all that stuff makes me a pretty ok mom.

And I'm ok with that.

PS - you know how Robin exploded my uterus? I have a picture. It's disgusting and awesome and I will totally share it with you if you ask.