I have seen the trailer for the movie The Nativity lately on T.V. and I can't help make a few observations about it. My first thought was that I appreciate that the actors are not Caucasian. They aren't the darkest skinned people out there, but there is definitely more than a little middle eastern-ness about them.

Then I kind of got sucked in to the story and the epic nature of the trailer. A prophesied baby, a paranoid King set on stopping the prophesied child, the angel visiting Joseph and the trek to Bethlehem and a gloriously bright star leading men to the newborn baby. Wow.

It struck me suddenly that the reason I was feeling drawn to this movie is that is the same kind of story I prefer to read. I love to read fantasy books and this story is no different than dozens of my favorite novels. Writers, like David Eddings, Mercedes Lackey and Elizabeth Moon all write wonderfully epic stories that take you to a different world where Gods rule with a visible hand, prophesies are met by those born to meet them, and Magic is a reality. The Harry Potter books are a great example of what I am talking about. I love these stories and can't wait till the authors finish the series so Good can triumph and the Evil get what they deserve.

Now, people who know me understand that I am not a religious person. I do not believe in the Nativity story as a true happening. While I do believe there was a man named Jesus who tried to teach others a better way to live and treat one another, I do not believe that his mother was a virgin impregnated by God. As an agnostic, I won't even say that there is a God. But I think the Nativity is a great story and looks like it will make a great movie.

Just like I think they should make the Belgariad into a series of movies like they did the Lord of the Rings. I don't think we should fight any wars with people who don't believe that Garion is the true Rivan King ordained by the Gods to rule, but I do think it is just as great a story.

After almost 6 months of tooth-cutting freedom, Jackson is back at it with a vengeance. He is getting four molars - two on each side, top and bottom. He is miserable. The cranky-o-meter is almost off the charts. His sleep is disturbed which does not help the crankys much at all.

David is at his limit. When he is home, he is Jackson's primary belonging. Daddy can't go to the bathroom without a little boy crying outside the door. So these last few days have been rough on him. Me too. He says he needs a break, but I can't give him a break. Jackson cannot be comforted or consoled by anyone else as long as David is in the house. Tomorrow, I may take the boy to my Mom's house to give Daddy some alone time. And frankly, Jackson is easier to take care of when David isn't around. He can play independently and eat calmly and generally be laid back in a way that is not possible when he can see his Daddy. He attaches himself to his Dad's leg when he walks and cries to be carried and held. He wants to sit on Dad's lap while he plays on the computer, which makes it impossible to actually play on the computer. At Thanksgiving dinner, which David had to eat while holding the boy, David's folks remarked how we need to somehow stop this behavior, let him cry so he learns he can't always be in Daddy's arms.

Of course, if you think about it, this is probably not anything many, if not most, other children do. Except it is usually Mom, not Dad, that is the baby's sole possession. We would probably not even be having this discussion with the in-laws if it were me he were so attached to. If the boy was cutting 4 molars at once and was so crabby and uncomfortable that he couldn't stand to be out of his mother's arms, would anyone say for me to let him cry? Would anyone think that me having to eat my meal with a baby on my lap was a hardship? Or would it simply be what is expected of a mom and go unremarked?

I must say, though, that it is a little sad for me that my son prefers his Dad. (Here it comes...you knew it was coming...) I do everything for that child. All of his day to day care, food, diapers, clothing, general well-being - these are things that I provide him. And he is perfectly lovely and contented with the quality of my mothering. Until his Dad comes home from work. David, tossed him around and runs through the house with him, becoming the boy's personal rollercoaster and all of the sudden I am chopped liver. Man. That is a sob story. I am going to have to save this blog for him to read when he's grown up. I could tell him something like, "You didn't appreciate the way I slaved for you when you were 16 months old. Perhaps if you bought me a diamond necklace from your hefty salary as a highly-respected ___(blank)___, I would forgive you."

I actually am happy that my son and my husband are so well-bonded. And as much as David gets worn out on the weekends from Jackson's constant need of him, I think he will be sorry when the day comes that he is not the almighty-worshipped Daddy, bringer of all things fun. People say that parental preference shifts many times in a child's life, and at some point, Mommy will be the favorite. If that happens, then I am sure both David and I will remember this stage with fondness and longing. Except for the cutting four molars at once part.

I took Jackson's picture this morning while he was playing in his ball pit. The sun was coming in the window and nicely lighting him. I heard Joni in my ear saying "Look at that wonderful natural light." So I got the camera and took a few shots. Not quite a Joni pic, but not too bad. And Jackson was happy and posed well.

He hasn't played in his ball pit for about a month or more. I put the lid on it to get a break from having to pick up a hundred colorful balls from my kitchen floor every night. His favorite game was getting in and flailing about spilling most of the balls out to roll everywhere. I just put the lid on it and we both forgot about it. Then today he whined and made it very clear that I needed to take the lid off. So I did, resigning myself to ball retrieval later. But an interesting change of modus operandi has occurred. Now Jackson plays in the pit by putting balls in the bucket. Or balancing one ball in the little trowel. What astounded me was that any time a ball escaped and rolled away, the boy had to stop playing, get out, and go get the ball. Instead of sending balls flying with glee, it bothered him when a ball escaped.

I just find the fundamental shift in thinking that must have occurred amazing and though I understand this is going to keep happening, I am sure I will be surprised by him many, many more times in the coming years. Big Fun!

You gotta see this...
Being a parent has moments of pure joy. Unexpected and fleeting...unless you have a video camera at the ready.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfTpgnRIMFk