A Christmas Story

Having the G-man born right before xmas is not what we planned, although at first on paper, it didn't really matter too much. Scott and I haven't done a real xmas celebration in years, choosing to focus on our anniversary that's just a few days later. So it seemed that a birthday on the 20th just gave us something new to enjoy during the traditional holiday season. But kids have a way of changing plans and we realized last year that xmas needs to come back for his sake, complete with tree, decorations, visits to santa, music and more. So now prep work starts really early, as in a span of 11 days we have his birthday, xmas, our anniversary and new year's. 

I should tell you that one reason we didn't do a big xmas thing is that we're atheists. Hard to be sometimes in a judeo-christian culture - heavy on the christian - with people proselytizing  about "the reason for the season". Although we both really enjoy the message of the holidays, promoting peace, love, charity and goodwill, it seemed a little hypocritical for us to celebrate what was once traditionally a religious event. Of course, that tradition seems to take quite the back-burner now, so fear not those worried that G-man will miss a big part of American childhood, the pageantry is back.

The funny thing is, the universe tried to give us our own reason for the season when he was born. It's something I never would have put together, but my mother pointed it out while we were still searching for his name. Jokingly, she said we should call him Jesus, then proceeded to say why. And so, I bring you the xmas story of the G-man's birth:

When I went into labor, there was no room at the inn. Our pre-registered, pre-toured, pre-everything christian-named St. Luke's hospital was full and we were diverted. To Menorah. That's right, as in hanukkah lights. 

Unless the hospital has a helicopter pad with a light on it, I don't think G-man had a special star, but it was a beautiful, cloudless night (the ice storm came as we were taking him home) to guide us on our momentous journey to a place we'd never been to, where we would eventually have to register his birth and our status as a family.

Once there, our Jewish OB delivered the wee one, while our Jewish pediatrician gave him the seal of approval.

Throughout it all, our primary nurse was named...Angel. 

And of course, we didn't expect him to come in December, much less before the 25th, so we had no presents on hand for his first holiday. But not to despair, as a wise man in the form of my father arrived on the 24th bearing three gifts - hooded towels, a ball glove and a onesie outfit. I'm pretty sure these are the modern forms of gold, frankincense and myrrh, right?

Now I'm not saying anyone worships him yet, although he is damn cute, or that he'll grow up to inspire stories of peace in his name, but to us he is special and worth celebrating any day of the year.