We’re at Def Con 5 in our house today, but not for the usual reasons, like socks that feel crumply or toast not cut right. Nope. It’s all because Fred didn’t move last night.
Fred is our creepy little elf on a shelf and the other morning, I was awoken at 5:00am by my daughter, who was in a panic.
Yaya: Mom? Mom?
Yaya: I’m really worried. Fred didn’t move last night. I think something is wrong.
My eyes flew open and I froze in fear. I felt my husband stiffen next to me. Crap! We forgot to move the elf.
Ever since this elf showed up, he’s been nothing but a pain in my a#$. When I bought the elf, I thought it would be a nice little family tradition that my kids would treasure later in life. I had an elf when I was young. Sammy was his name and he sat on our tree as a cute little decoration. We put him on when the tree went up and put away when the tree came down. Simple.
Had I known the new version of this elf would be so labor intensive. I would have left the little f@%#er on the store shelf instead.
This isn’t the first time Fred forgot to move, yet every time it happens, there is a huge meltdown in my house and the solution usually involves more work for me. My daughter will sit in front of Fred and have a 20 minute heart to heart with him, trying to find out if he is sick, hurt, angry, or sad. She makes rainbow loom necklaces for him and sings him songs. Then comes the letter writing. She will compose a letter asking Fred all the same questions she just asked him in person.
And of course, these letters have to be responded to. Guess who gets that job? I have enlisted many a friend to write an elf note to my kids so as not to ruin the magic. It is freaking exhausting!
The boy is completely oblivious to the whole process. He was all gung ho in the beginning, but his enthusiasm lasted about a week then he kind of withered out. Now he just walks aimlessly around the room, finger in his mouth, smelling like a porta-potty until he finds the elf. “There’s Fred. Can I have chocolate milk now?” Yep, he’s done.
Now I’m a classic overachiever. Our household motto is go big or go home. We are known for going a little over the top at times. So you would think this elf on the shelf thing would be right up my alley. I mean, come on! Putting an stuffed elf into various scenarios is right up my alley, especially the “naughty” elves. Yet somehow, I just cannot get on board.
Maybe it because I spend so much energy the other 11 months trying to come up with new creative ideas to get my kids to do everyday things like eat, get dressed, or poop somewhere other than one’s pants that my mind is spent by December.
Whatever the reason, I just not into this fricking elf. I cannot wait for him to fly the h@ll back to the North Pole.
Social media has added a new twist to the elf as well. Pinterest is loaded with ideas from overly creative people with way too much time on their hands. Who has time to think of a new idea every night let alone make a frigging calendar of it?! And then there are the people sharing their elves in various mischief on Facebook. Hey, look at me. Look at my awesome creative idea. Don’t you feel like sh@t now? Makes all of the rest of us look like slackers.
I thought we were in the motherhood thing together. Where’s the sisterhood? Come on, ladies. Isn’t there enough stress during the holidays? Do we really need to add one more thing to our list?
And my daughter’s friends don’t help. They text her each morning with pictures of what little prank their elves have done. WTF? I want to send these moms a text with a little emojicon flipping the bird and say what the h@ll are you trying to do to me?
I think next year, I am going to start a new movement – M.A.M.E….Mothers Against Moving Elves. I sure I will get many followers. Probably go viral.
But for now, I am just glad it’s Christmas Eve so I can pack up that floppy legged, plastic face little p@$ker and shove him in the attic….until next year anyway.
(and Jen, who said to mention she would have contributed, but the same sh@t happens in her house so why bother? Oh, and Little Man doesn’t smell like a porta potty)
Still Mostly Sane and currently still Mamas