So, This Is Christmas.

I only needed to read the horoscopes in this morning's paper to know that times are tough. The banks and big three automakers have tapped out most of Santa's funds, so there's bound to be some belt-tightening from the big guy this year. Set expectations for low as you approach your stocking this AM, kiddos.

Horoscopic Gleanings:

A five-star day is in store for all you Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Libra, Sagittarius, and Aquarius folks out there. Even with all those stars, though, you'll need to ".. be willing to help others who simply don't handle stress as well as you" and "... recognize what is happening with a friend, and help ease this person's day". It's not going to be an easy ride for any of us. Better bring an extra box of tissues to the buffet, Compadre.

Virgos, Scorpios, and Capricorns only get three stars today. Our advice (I'm a Scorpio.) is to "... walk away from the concept of spending and presents", "... stay close to home", and "... be willing to not be ecstatic, but simply mellow". (Not really a bad approach to most days, don't you think?) At least we know our five-star friends will be there to give us a shoulder to cry on, if the need arises.

According to our horoscopes, this is how Christmas will shake down for my family: Mom, my daughter, and I will fall apart completely. We'll feel stressed and disappointed. Maybe Santa will bring Hostess fruitcakes and itchy wool sweaters for us. Or someone will bogart all the pecan pie before we even get to the dessert tray. We're going to need to make do with mellowness instead of ecstasy this year.

Meanwhile, my father, brother, and husband will all be standing strong with five stars. Their gifts will rock. Their pie will still be warm. Through the power of planetary alignment, they will be able to console the females in the family through this day.

The dog's a Pisces. Four stars. Could go either way for him. We'll see.

No! No! No!

You thought I was judgmental about Bratz dollz and neckties? Well, brace yourself, 'cause I'm about to go on a bit of a Santa rant.

Back Story: Sometimes I click the "next blog" button at the top of the screen just to see the random assortment of things that are out there in the blogosphere. My favorites are the ones in foreign languages, where I have to figure out who it's by and what's going on without benefit of understanding the words. My least favorites are usually the ones by American women, moms specifically, as they tend to get more cutesy than I can handle. (Yes, I do have a blog about my daughter, and, yes, I appreciate the irony of that last statement.) I stumbled on to one of those blogs that makes me cringe today, and since it pushed a holiday hot button for me, I'm gonna tell you all about it.

Let me walk you through it...

The blog was by a mom of two little girls. Most of the blog was about the mom's rabid pursuit of the perfect scrapbook page and included pictures of her pages in progress and links to the sites of her other crafty-type mom friends.  

Today's entry, though, was a picture of her two daughters, who looked like they were about three and five years old, sitting on the lap of a mall Santa. 

They were both screaming. Full-on, eyes wide in terror, get-me-out-of-here screaming. The mom's comment below the picture was How adorable. No winking emoticon to convey sarcasm in her message. No story of how long they'd waited in line, which one started crying first or explanation as to why. In short, no context. Just a picture of two very unhappy-looking girls sitting on a weirdly-calm mall Santa's lap and the words How adorable.

A couple of her crafty-type mom friends had chimed in with comments, all of which included the words cute and hilarious.

Why do people do this?

I don't even know these girls, but my heart went out to them immediately. Going to meet Santa is supposed to be fun. 

Yes, fun. 

For the kids. 

It's for them, not so that Mom and Dad can get a picture to put in the scrapbook. 

So why do people keep their kids in line or go ahead with the picture if the kid's obviously not having any fun?

Last year, my parents took my then one year-old daughter to the mall, and my dad got in line with her to meet Santa. Another child in front of them started crying and saying, "No!" My daughter looked at Grandpa and shook her head to say, "I don't think I like this." Grandpa listened and said they'd try it again another time. Yes, my dad listened to my daughter and respected her wishes. And that's just the sort of thing I love him for. 

Sure, sometimes kids say, "No!" to stuff (like holding your hand when you're crossing the street) that you just have to insist they follow through with for their own safety. Sometimes I go a few rounds with my daughter about her needing to put on her pj's, wear shoes outside, or wash her hands before dinner. I don't back down because those are instances where she's testing the boundaries of her authority to self-govern, as it were. 

Going to visit Santa is a whole 'nother ball game, though.

You can't force a kid to have fun. 

And it's neither cute nor hilarious when people try to.

Too Close

There is a house not far enough away from mine that has at least fifty of these mega-sized inflatable, illuminated yard ornament things in it. 

There is a Homer Simpson on their roof, Snoopy over by the garage, and snowmen of various shapes and sizes sprinkled throughout the yard. 

The most eye-catching of all these merry inflatables is this one:

It's Desert Camo Santa

There are just so many ways to go with the commentary on this one. Do I get all snarky and talk up the tactical advantages of having him on our side (ability to know when insurgents are sleeping and when they're awake, etc.)? Do I point out the irony of good ol' secular Santa invoking God's blessing on the USA and, apparently, fighting in a war in the Middle East?

I can't quite put my finger on why I find Camo Santa so compelling. Sure, Christmas has been secularized and sexualized (See earlier entry about Bratz dollz - or any Victoria's Secret ad.), but now is it being militarized? Or is this just someone making money by grabbing onto a non-copyrighted figure that has solid approval ratings to promote a message that they know "sells"?

Go ahead and insert your own comments. I'm still mulling this one over. (Click on his name to see another Camo Santa. Check out their blog if you have time.)

The oddest time to drive by this house of too much yard art is during the day, when all the characters are deflated piles of fabric heaped on the snow. There's a grisly horror movie quality to it that is disturbing and absurd. I call it Dead Christmas, and part of me wants to look away every time I pass. But I can't help but see it and know it's there.