Fuck that Elf...give a BJ.

A year ago and few weeks into December, I was sitting across from my boss.


"I feel like you are Grinchy."



"Why?!" He grumbled....offended ( and grinchey-like.)



"Because last year we did the elf on the shelf, and this year we haven't."



"Oh." He answered "It is in there.....someplace." He waved his hands towards "there" which everyone knows is the storage area of hell.



Neither one of us got up in a rush to go out in the shed and grab it. Wanna know why?


Last year we excitedly unwrapped the elf on the shelf and placed her lovingly on the....well...the shelf.
We took selfies with the Elf and we thought of hilarious ways in which we could express our creativeness AND imagination.


I read the story to my class, and each day I would excitedly think of new things for her to do.


We named her sparkle fart.



Fast forward a week, and I was asking the Boss to move her someplace because I had forgotten.


Two days later I forgot completely...Then he forgot completely.


Once a child touched it, which made my ENTIRE class cry. And someone told me that I had to sprinkle it with cinnamon and "send" him off to the north pole to be cleaned.


Then One day our Elf didn't get moved and all of the children fell into a state of shock and worry.



The elf is stupid. Okay? He is stupid and needless.



All month long I have been seeing everyone's elf's moved around strategically throughout their homes. Making flour elf angels and fishing for turds in the toilet.



It used to be enough for kids to know that Santa was watching. Santa had moms back. Is it any wonder that Kids don't listen to moms? The big guy doesn't have your back anymore. Now there is just a punk elf.


The world is overpopulated and Santa is too busy.


Now that elf has a reindeer and in 10 years that reindeer will have an assistant elf who starts visiting in October because the Nice list has its own waiting list.



I know people who plan this shit out and set alarms on their phones to wake them up at 3:00 am just to make sure that little stuffed fucker is moved.


My thought on this? No women has the excuse anymore that they are too tired for 3 am BJ. If your ass can be woken up for an elf, your ass better wake up and roll over for your mans midnight chub.


You are too tired? Naw man. Naw.


Seriously.


Last year I decided to call some friends who still had little kids and see where they stood on this whole douche elf idea.



While talking to MeL one night she told me that she did not have an Elf on the shelf, SHE had a monkey in the tree.


"Monkey?" I questioned and half laughed already.



"Yeah. Who the fuck can afford 25 bucks for a spying elf? So I got a 2.00 monkey and my kids think he works for santa too. But he just sits in the tree. He doesn't move around and do stupid shit."



#realtalk





"Beanie. I HATE that fuckin elf!" Dawn moaned to me.



"Why?"



"I cannot tell you how many times I have gone to sleep and woken up in a PANIC because I forgot the elf! Once I didn't wake up and I ran down stairs and chucked him across the room before Ariana could see."



I laughed because I could see that happening.



"It is not funny Beanie. I hate it! Once it got touched and we had to sprinkle cinnamon on her and she had to get 'sent' to the north pole."



My question for her, was honest and serious "Who the FUCK has time for that in their life?"

Wanna know my answer??

Listen. I LOVE Christmas.


It is one of my most favoritest times of the year! I make reindeer food, and make sure to leave Santa a key to my front door.
I drink the luke warm milk and I bite the cookie. I oooh and I awe and I squeeeeeeel when I see Santa clause because he is my favorite person in the ENTIRE world.


Yesterday, a student in my class asked me where my Elf  who talks to Santa was (while looking on my shelf's suspiciously) So I rang the class bell.


"Gabriel just asked where our classroom elf is and I am going to answer. Santa has sent all of you elves at your homes right?"


They all nodded and yelled out their Elves names with happiness and abandon.


"That's good. And I love hearing about Charming and Sweetie and Fred each and every day. But here in class, we do not have an elf. Here in class we have...me. And you will behave simply because I told you to do so. Right?"

"YES MS.BEANIE!"

A parent told me last week "Beanie, you NEED an elf for your classroom! The kids behave with that elf!"



I just smiled.


My children do things because I ask them too, not because some creepy elf is staring at them from the heater vent and they are scared that he is going to snitch on them.


Plain and simple.



But I just smiled and nodded and in my mind all I could think was "Fuck that elf."

Making Memories.

Shane was 2 years old and it was 4:00pm on a grey day.
We sat at home and he ran around the house in red sweatpants, climbing things and digging INTO things that he shouldn't be.

"Momma. I want Barney."

"I know baby. We have to wait for tomorrow morning."

Ohhhh How I envy the mommies of today, who can just On Demand Bubble Guppies on a whim, or even better, pull it up on their phones.

But back then, it was just the two of us, in a house, bored and waiting for the 8:00 am showing of Barney on PBS.

I looked out of the window. The leaves were swirling on the pavement of our driveway.
"It is Autumn Shane."

"What's Autin?"

"Autin is a time of the year. There are 4 times of the year and Autumn is one of them."

He climbed up the back of the couch and looked out of our window. We lived in a teeny tiny duplex that housed Shane, Chris and I.

It was 1 bedroom 1 bath and a kitchen. (one that I suspected USE to be a laundry room)

"Do you want to go for an Autumn walk? We can hunt clues!"

"Yes!" He shouted. But it sounded more like "YETH!"
Shane had a lisp. (And still does)

I bundled up my tiny son, we held hands and left the house.
On our walk Shane ran ahead and chased after the swirls of leaves that danced on the streets.
He screamed and laughed and caught a few.

When he did he would bring them to me.

"Leaves fall down?"

"Yes. In Autumn they do."

He looked so sad. "Why?"

"To make room for new ones."

He picked up the leaf and threw it back up to a tree. "Go back." He shouted.
But the leaf twirled back to the ground.
"It loves you!" I laughed

He nodded, (Very seriously) and shoved it in his pocket. "I keep it." He muttered.

As we walked, I would thread my fingers through his fine blonde hair. Enjoying every single crunch that his small feet made while he stomped through a new pile of leaves.

16 years later I can hear his laughter, smell the leaves and remember the feel of his hair between my fingers.

Even then, at 19, I knew that these moments do not last. They flutter by...then speed by and are gone.
          
                 Life is what you take from it.

                              What you glean off of the top as you work and sleep and drive.

****************************************************

Emma was 3.
And the house was quiet.
Which is bad if you have children.

What quiet means is simply this: Your kid is off fucking things up. Period.

You never notice it at first. It is always when you realize "Wait. Im calm. I'm relaxed!...oh wait!! Where is my kid?"

I found Emma on the floor in my bathroom digging through all of my lovely makeup. The makeup that I had JUST purchased as a splurge to myself.

I opened the door.

My child looked like a miniature hooker. Her lips were rimmed with my hot pink lipstick and she had missed her eyes with my eye shadow, so the blues and greens decorated her cheeks.

"What are you doing Emma Elizabeth?"

"Nothing!" she insisted, as she tried to hide my silver metal makeup case behind her tiny body.

"Nothing?"

"No Nothing. I love you!"

"You did not put on mommas makeup?"

"No!" she shook her head and a riot of curls fell over her shoulders.

I picked her up and made her face the mirror. "You did not put on mommas makeup?"

She looked at herself and blushed pink (It went well with the blue/green eye shadow cheeks.)

"Are you allowed to lie to mommy?"

She shook her head.

"Did you put on mommies makeup?"

She nodded her head. "yes." She whispered under her breath.

"I am proud of you for (finally) being honest with me. Did the makeup feel good?"

"Yes." again the riot of hair around her face.

"Were you going for Alien hooker...or?"

She looked at me confused.

"Why didn't you invite mommy to your makeup party?"

"I dunno" She shrugged her shoulders, and quite honestly looked relived.

"Mommy loves makeup. Maybe instead of hiding, you should TELL mommy when you want to play makeup.. Do you want to have a tea party with me and get all dressed up? You can do my makeup too."

She laughed out loud and ran to her room to get the box of "Happy" that she had collected. Inside it were dresses and hats and jewels and rings.

That afternoon as we sat down to 'tea' I looked like the MOTHER of all hooker aliens, and so did Emma. We had feather boas on and lace hats. Our hands were adorned with glittery gloves and big gaudy rings.

So what was replaceable. The makeup ....or the memory?