On the first day of Christmas my children gave to me a wish list of worrying length.

On the second day of Christmas my children gave to me two loads of laundry and a wish list of worrying length.

On the third day of Christmas my children gave to me three stinky lunch packs, two loads of laundry and a wish list of worrying length.

On the fourth day of Christmas my children gave to me four meals half eaten, three stinky lunch packs, two loads of laundry and a wish list of worrying length.

On the fifth day of Christmas my children gave to me five golden moments, four meals half eaten, three stinky lunch packs, two loads of laundry and a wish list of worrying length.

On the sixth day of Christmas my children gave to me six requests for candy, five golden moments, four meals half eaten, three stinky lunch packs, two loads of laundry and a wish list of worrying length.

On the seventh day of Christmas my children gave to me seven hugs and kisses, six requests for candy, five golden moments, four meals half eaten, three stinky lunch packs, two loads of laundry and a wish list of worrying length.

On the eighth day of Christmas my children gave to me eight total meltdowns, seven hugs and kisses, six requests for candy, five golden moments, four meals half eaten, three stinky lunch packs, two loads of laundry and a wish list of worrying length.

On the ninth day of Christmas my children gave to me nine different headaches, eight total meltdowns, seven hugs and kisses, six requests for candy, five golden moments, four meals half eaten, three stinky lunch packs, two loads of laundry and a wish list of worrying length.

On the tenth day of Christmas my children gave to me ten sugar cookies, nine different headaches, eight total meltdowns, seven hugs and kisses, six requests for candy, five golden moments, four meals half eaten, three stinky lunch packs, two loads of laundry and a wish list of worrying length.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my children gave to me, eleven reasons to sell them, ten sugar cookies, nine different headaches, eight total meltdowns, seven hugs and kisses, six requests for candy, five golden moments, four meals half eaten, three stinky lunch packs, two loads of laundry and a wish list of worrying length.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my children gave to me, twelve homemade presents, eleven reasons to sell them, ten sugar cookies, nine different headaches, eight total meltdowns, seven hugs and kisses, six requests for candy, five - golden -moments (bah rum pum pum!) four meals half eaten, three stinky lunch packs, two loads of laundry and a wish list of worrying length.


Happy Holidays!

Unpaid Leave.

I have been sick. Really sick. Head splitting, coughing, sneezing, achy, weak - the full compliment. Of course as a parent I don't get to be sick. Little children can't look after themselves. Spouses still have to go to work. So I have been dragging myself through life. Taking the girls to school, making meals- operating at a minimum.

Inevitably my body protests. I get sicker. So we go to Plan B. The husband juggles work to take the girls to school. We ask our already over committed friends to help - and they do. We eat from the freezer. I get a full precious day to stay in bed and get well.

I should feel grateful. (I do.) I also feel pressured (to get well) and guilty (so many people are helping.) What if I don't get better in one day? We can't keep asking overstretched people to stretch further.

Dutifully I take to my bed with a box of tissues, a flask of tea, and a book. I sleep, sneeze and cough in peace. Then I get bored. I get up - load some laundry and tidy up the kitchen. This makes me breathless and I feel a bit fevered. I take a shower and sheepishly crawl back into bed for a nap. An hour later I am awake and antsy.

That's when it hits me. I can't switch off. I no longer know how to do down time. Even although I have been dreaming, nay fantasizing, of a day in bed - I can't do it. I am too aware of what needs to be done. I am worried that my kids will be wondering where I am. I can't shut down the mommy brain. It seems mommy guilt is stronger than bodily weakness. Sigh.
I compromise by doing a few things and returning to bed for a nap in between.
It's the best this mommy can do.

Elf On The Shelf.

If you've been reading for a while you'll know that I am a little obsessed (is that like being a little bit pregnant?) with making sweet childhood memories with my kids. I like tradition. The difficulty is that my children are growing up in a different country than I did. Traditions are different. Their childhoods and mine are, in many ways, chasms apart so I am always looking out for new traditions we can start together.
Enter Elf on The Shelf. I had never heard of this pesky sprite until last year. This year he seems to be everywhere I go - Pinterest, at my favorite book store, Facebook. People seem to be having a lot of fun with their elf - so I decided we would too.

I ordered him - he's a little pricey so I was anxious for his arrival. He came in time for the December count down and I was not disappointed. The book is great. Funny, well written, age appropriate. The perfect way to issue the Santa Ultimatum (Santa will not come if you're bad) without actually having to be the bad guy. Genius!
While I fully appreciate that a momma (especially when hormonally compromised) has to do what a momma has to do, I really do think playing the 'Santa won't come' card - is evil. Having a cute little elf do it for you - fully acceptable.

Here's my problem. Why does there have to always be a problem I hear you ask? Well let's face it - if there wasn't a problem, this would just be an advertisement. The Elf - we call ours Fisbee - is very cute. My kids love him. He comes with clear (and strict) instructions which they are willing to adhere too. They run giddy round the house looking for him each morning BUT it's right there in the title - Elf on The Shelf. This Elf can no better sit on a shelf than he can sing and dance. He is not able to sit upright unaided. Elf on The Floor, Elf Slumped Over, Elf Who's Been at the Brandy would be much more accurate.

Elf Who Needs to Be Wedged Up Against Something is what he really is. As a busy overworked, underpaid mom who tends to remember approximately 20 mins after she gets into bed that the Elf needs a new location - I really need this Elf to be happy to sit anywhere. My wedging options are limited. I have seen some very clever mommies posting their very clever Elf On The Shelf lying down making a snow angel in sugar pictures on Pinterest. Good for them. In my house there is about a 30 second window for Elf placement. Elf Fallen Off and Crumpled on the Floor does not have quite the same child delighting effect.
Elf On The Shelf may have too poor a shelf life for this parent.