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Christmas

elf, elf on a shelf, christmas, holidays

Elf on a Shelf Run Amuck~ Last year, we  I decided that I wanted to start the whole Elf on the Shelf tradition with my girls.Of course, once I saw what the Elf on the Shelf actually looked like, there was no way I was bringing that thing into my house.It would have scared the Christmas spirit right out of my girls. Thoughts of them sleeping with me nightly until they were 15 danced in my head and I nixed the Elf ( jokes on me because they are currently co-sleepers!) I wasn’t ready to abandon the entire idea, just that particular elf. You know me, I went on a quest until a could locate 2 more aesthetically pleasing elves. I acknowledge that I am so conforming to society’s idea of beauty. Shame on me.The girls were 2 and 4 and, let’s be honest, I needed a new bargaining chip.The fat guy threats just weren’t cutting it anymore. I needed something more tangible, not a threat of 1 day of the entire year. My girls are fairly certain that Santa is like God in the respect that he forgives..everything. But elves, well, those little bastards can be as vicious as Mommy wants them to be. Those little dudes are Santa’s henchmen; they bust kneecaps and bite ankles. And so began the tradition..in our home.

Anyone who knows the Big Guy and I know that, in most respects, we don’t half-ass anything when it comes to our girls, with the exception of when we are dropping the ball completely. Sky’s the limit, to infinity and beyond and all that bullshit. So, our elves ( yes, there are 2, one for each girl…its hard work wrangling babies) are sent via Air mail from the North Pole. You doubt me? Hey, there is postage paid and everything..even teeny tiny holes in the box so those minuscule Northern mafioso enforcers can breathe. Our elf on a shelf #1 and elf on a shelf #2 arrive with a letter from Santa explaining all ( yes, by now you should all be fully aware that we take everything just one step too far).

elf, elf on a shelf, christmas, holidays

Elf on A Shelf #1 has arrived

This year, Analee ( that’s the name since “someone’ forgot to remove the tag from the elf) arrived magically,a s if out of thin air.One day he was not here and the next, there he sat high in the Christmas tree, watching,waiting to be discovered.Keeping watch over my girls as they shouted and fought.And then it happened, Gabs made her way to touch her Clara ornament(you know the special one that she is forbidden to touch) and as her eyes rose from the ornament there perched 3/4s of the way up the tree, Analee.Gab’s let out a yelp. Then said nothing. She slyly made her way to her sister, who screamed and immediately ran to greet our old friend.She was all flushed and hyperventilating trying to get the words out of her mouth, the proclamation that “Analee” was back. Santa had sent him to watch over them. I feigned surprise and said hello. Then it was bedtime. A few days later, after many hours of Bella standing in front of the Christmas tree explaining away every transgression that she had levied against her sister (literally, I found her no less than 15 times talking to the elf on a shelf…explaining that Gabs made her do it and to tell Santa..it was Gabs, I tell you.All Gabs!) a package arrived in the mail.

Elf on a Shelf #2 reporting for Recon duty

The girls saw the brightly decorated box and knew instantly what the package contained. They gently placed it on the floor, in front of the fireplace ( there is a great amount of reverence given to the elves) and peeled the packaging back. Inside, they found a letter from Santa and the jolly smile of “Ed”, sent back by Santa to report for another year of duty in our household. The girls gasped. They love the elves but they are afraid to touch them, not even with a ten foot pole. Well, Bella is anyways.Gabs actually midget tossed poor Ed out of her room on his ear today when she was having a particularly hard time fighting a nap.Poor Ed!But that’s an entirely different post. I was asked to place Ed somewhere, because, silly you, elves don’t run around in front of humans during day light hours.Bella has a theory that she shared with me the other day.It goes a little something like this: Bella” Mommy, how do the elves tell Santa what we’re doing?” Me:”Well, Bella, the elves are magical so they just pop back over to Santa and give him a daily report.” She looks slightly perturbed and confused.Bella:’Mommy, why don’t they just call him?” Me:”Well, Bella they can magically just pop back to Santa, why waste the minutes?”(I’m slightly exasperated.This lie has gotten too big,You know I can’t lie!)Bella: “Mommy?” Me;”Yes?”Bella: “Mommy,  I think Santa has secret cameras in the house and can see everything we do!”I’m speechless.After all, she is only 5 years old.First, she has rationalized the Tooth Fairy and now elves with spy cams? Me:”No,Bella.they.pop.back. to .Santa.every.night!”

elf, elf on a shelf, christmas, holidays
This  letter from Santa makes me cry, a little bit.It choked me up reading it to the girls.

Every night, I move the elves to different positions and to different random spots in throughout the house; the bathroom ( taking a poop, surprise Ed’swatching), eating breakfast (Surprise Analee is in the chair next to you),putting your clothes in the hamper (Be careful you’ll squish Ed), reaching for the milk ( oooh, poor Ed is chilly in the fridge..no sneaking candy!)turn on the fireplace (oh no,be careful Analee is getting hot under the collar).You get the point?

 

elf, elf on a shelf, christmas, holidays

And so starts another year of the mischievousness that is the elf visitors.Elf on a shelf my ass, those little suckers are running all over my house. It scares my girls that our little visitors wield so much power in their tiny hands.They are roaming free, recording every single scream, yell, hair pull, piss my sister off moment/ talk back to my Mommy, fighting my bedtime, not going to eat my asparagus moment that goes down in our house..and apparently, so are Santa’s spy cams!So, remember you better watch out, you better not pout,you better not cry, I’m telling you why..Santa’s sending his henchmen to rat on you!Happy Christmas and beware the elf on a shelf!

elf, elf on a shelf, christmas, holidays

Elf on a shelf saves the Day

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The holidays for me are usually all warmth and fuzziness, mostly. Don’t get me wrong they are chocked full of craziness but right underneath the surface of all the chaos, complete happiness is bubbling its way to the surface and about to spill over. But for some reason, this year things feel… off. It all looks great on paper, we are doing all the things that should be done to make wonderful memories for our girls but for some reason, I don’t feel like my heart is in it. I don’t feel the bubbly goodness rising to the top as it should be this far into December.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I am watching the finances closely since this year has been full of new jobs, relocations and maintaining separate households, which is nothing to speak of the fact that our whole life has been suspended and not quite right with the Big Guy not living here. Maybe my lack of enthusiasm has something to do with being overwhelmed by the to do lists and not enough time to accomplish the tasks at hand. I have been buried under snow for most of December and there’s been no time for shopping, baking, enjoying. Its been a series of appointments and dates. Truly, I feel like my girls are being jipped out of their Christmas. I’ve been so  caught up in all the obligations that I’ve been snapping at my girls and firing snark from my mouth like an AK-47.I know on more than one occasion, lately, I’ve given them the “are you retarded?” look and may have even said something to that effect, but not quite as awful. But the sentiment was there and that is as guilty as saying the words themselves. Thoughts become words and words become actions.Well, even thinking that makes me a really horrible Grinch of a mother, in my book. I don’t want to be THAT person.I don’t want my girls to think it even fathomable that I could mean such awful words.The thought of them believing that I think they are anything less than amazing or that my love is conditional upon whether or not they are pleasing to me, makes me sick to my stomach.I want to be happy, excited and gay. I need to get my warm fuzziness boiling back over. I want to spread it all over my children like warm molasses.

Christmas is not about things to do, places to be or presents to open; Christmas is about love, peace and people.I want my girls to look back on their childhood Christmases and remember the cuddles in front of the fire, spontaneous Christmas cookie baking, making fudge with Daddy, snowball fights, and watching Christmas Movies; staying up late to put cookies out for Santa and going to mass with the whole family.It’s firsts snows and snow angels.It’s togetherness.It’s a series of moments that form a lifetime. I want it to be a feeling in their heart.I want it to be the spirit of something larger than us; of hope, love and joy. I’m clearing out the clutter of my life and my mind and going forth, my only true obligation is going to be to see to it that my girls are happy.Everything else is secondary.  

Fah who for-aze! Fah who for-aze!
Dah who dor-aze! Dah who dor-aze!
Welcome Christmas, Welcome Christmas,
Come this way! Come this way! 
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This month is closing in on me like a Mac truck racing towards my bumper, suffocating me in the process.It started with turkey and family, and now its all a blurred haze of running to and fro, shopping, the Nutcracker is any day now, schools wrapping up, I was just informed that I am to help cook ( must be homemade..wtf?Even my kids don’t get homemade at this time of the year) for the teacher’s breakfast next month and then I got the surprise of a summons for jury duty.I almost fell to the ground in a crumpled pool of tears and assumed the fetal position.How the hell am I to fit jury duty into an already packed schedule with no family here to help? What the fuck am I, the bionic woman? Then there is Christmas. Is it just me or is anyone else feel like they are playing an intense game of chicken with Christmas?

In past years ( back when shopping was still fun for me), I’d try and have all my shopping done before the dreaded Black Friday.I thought I was so cool, all aloof and above these crazed housewives trying to save $2 on some ridiculously priced toy du jour. Oh yeah, I was a real asshole. Then I had kids and I thought, what the hell, I’ll do the Black Friday thing.I’ll play the game. The Big Guy and I went and had coffee while my MIL stayed with the baby ( she was like 8 months old).Hell, she was still sleeping by the time we had returned.There was no urgency. None at all. We were going to buy her what we wanted, no matter what it cost because she was THAT fucking special ( she takes after her Mommy).We’d even go out that afternoon, with her in tow, to buy stuff ( usually for ourselves) on the good discounts.It was a blast.

The couple years later, we had 2 kids. Money was getting a little tighter and so we decided this Black Friday had a little more importance to our lives.We had a plan, a reconnaissance mission, if you will.The objective;split up, recover the coveted items, rendezvous and pay. Simple, right?Newspapers were bought, items circled, routes plotted. We were ready.Hurrah! Then it happened…Toys R Us!If you’ve never experienced TRUS on Black Friday( or as I like to call it the fifth dimension of hell) you have no idea of which I speak. Imagine if you will hundreds of weary eyed,exhausted, broken spirit, broken mind, broken body, broken pocket book mommies and daddies waiting in the rain for a couple of hours with our same mission and a little more determined. These were the marines of parents, they were not backing down and they looked CRAZY! I’m not ashamed to admit it, I was a little afraid. The doors opened and these people, grown adults with children of their own, broke free like bats out of hell into Toys R US. There were carts being rammed, people pushed up against door jams, dolls ripped from Grandmother’s hands, in some cases, Grandmothers being beaten with said doll.It was my worst nightmare. The Big Guy and I said the hell with it, there is NOTHING in this joint worth risking our lives for..not even a damn Zune for $40. We backed our certainly out of our depth asses right the hell out of Toys R US,lucky to escape with all of our extremities and life. Beep, Beep, beep….new parents coming through. I’m sure I saw others, more seasoned parents, smirking at us and our defeat as they slightly released the death grip on their Baby Alive Dolls.

After that experience, last year we skipped it all together. We refused to even acknowledge the day existed. It was far too traumatic.The plan this year was to go out on BLACK Friday and get all my shopping done. This year, I have been a Mommy for 5 years. This year, money is tight.The year has been hard with all the traveling, tears and Daddy being away.This year, I wasn’t taking any bullshit.This year, I wasn’t taking any prisoners and if someone thought they were ripping anything out of my hands…they were risking their life and sadly mistaken.I had become my own worst nightmare. Then, after all the psychological psyching out and physical conditioning…my baby sitter crapped out on me!WHAT?


So, here I am. I’ve missed out on Black Friday, Cyber Monday holds no real enticement for me, and the month is packed full of responsibilities and appointments.Wonder if my girls would go for just getting a shit load of love under the tree..THAT I can provide.They get that every day.Too bad I can’t wrap up hugs, kisses, cuddles, sleepy smiles, children’s laughter, long lingering hugs,quiet moments, and priceless little voices lifted up in song. That’s all I want for Christmas..and maybe some alone time with my Big Guy. For now, back to my game of chicken between me and Christmas.Who’s going to swerve first..not me!Christmas, you will be my bitch!Well, if you call being my bitch, me shopping online until the wee hours of the night.But what about this jury duty business? Well, I’m not above crying and they would be real tears! What’s your worst Christmas shopping experience?

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