If your mom is anything like mine, when you dutifully asked her what she wanted for Christmas, she heaved a sigh, and said “peace and harmony.” If you’re anything like me, you told her, “I meant something available on Amazon Prime.” Important context here: my brother, Bay, is a Tech Bro. I love him dearly. He’s also a stereotype. He went to Stanford. He lives in San Francisco. He’s been “getting really into skiing.” And, from an early age, he became the worst thing a white man can be: the devil’s advocate. So, along with Ella Fitzgerald and Mariah Carey, the soundtrack to the Foley-Cox Family Christmas involves a steady stream of passionate debate. Or, what others (my mom) refer to as bickering, whining and yelling. I’m sorry to say that though my mother appreciated her puzzle, her other gift didn’t arrive. I couldn’t provide her “peace” or any of this so-called “harmony,” but I can provide her a detailed list of where exactly everything went wrong.
1. The most soul-crushing, time-sucking fight known to man always begins with an innocuous question: “What movie should we watch tonight?” Maybe in some families this question doesn’t involve a winner and a loser. If those people exist, I’d like to meet them. But where I’m from, this is serious business. Before you start calling me “obstinate” and “unwilling to compromise,” as many others have, know that I’m jaded for a reason. I tried yielding to my brother’s will. I watched all two hours and 58 minutes of “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring” and two years later, I still don’t stop hearing about how we didn’t finish the original trilogy or “The Hobbit.” I can’t make that mistake again.
My family, if not easy-going, is invested in democratic processes, so to Robert’s Rules of Order we turned. We each posed a suggestion. We debated. We casted ballots. Some argued that for a truly democratic election, the vote needs to be ranked-choice, others argued that “this was ridiculous and it’s December 23rd can we please for the love of God just watch a Christmas movie.” But, the election was already underway. Votes were counted. A movie was crowned the winner (after, of course, it was found that Bay had “accidentally” forgot to count a ballot). This seems like a pretty reasonable place to assume the story is ending. To everyone’s chagrin, it is not. That’s right, we hopped on the contested election trend. “Let’s watch all the trailers then decide.” It was nearly ten o’clock. My dad went to take the dog for a walk. By the time he came in, we had decided we would watch a three-hour Bollywood film no one had mentioned in the previous hour. (“Three Idiots,” five stars).
2. I think it’s worth noting that the adept among you may begin to notice a throughline of these stories: Bay. And yes, okay, maybe you have a biased narrator, but in my defense, this next one was entirely, wholeheartedly, most definitely his fault. Except for the end. But everyone knows the ending is the least important part of every story.
When the brownie batter turned out sort of gluey and smelled suspiciously of eggs, I knew who was to blame. Bay had spent “fun family baking time” scrolling on Reddit and trying to convince me to add an economics correlate. It was a pretty safe bet, although he said he wasn’t helping enough for it to have been him. But we needn’t have argued. The timer was counting down and as soon as the brownies emerged from the oven, it became incredibly clear that it was, to my deep humiliation, my fault. I forgot the sugar.
3. While many of this year’s fights were fought loudly, others were silent. Dare I say passive-aggressive? You know when you get up from your seat and your dog steals your coveted spot on the sofa? Look, I really hate to make this comparison. I hear how it sounds, I really do… but, as it turns out, my brother’s girlfriend is like a dog. It was uncanny! Go to the bathroom: she’s in your chair. Want a drink? A snack? I’d think twice, unless you’re ready to eat it while sitting on the floor.
In case your patience, like my mother’s, is wearing thin, here’s a brief overview of the rest of this season’s hot topics: what constitutes a HIPAA violation, eggnog—God’s nectar or curdled piss— and, like every year, the rate at which gifts can be opened and admired before moving to the next person’s turn. Here’s to trying again next year!