Elf on the Shelf FINAL Volume

Oh my Elf Dook! It’s been a crazy ass helluva couple of months. The holidays are nestled way in the back of my mind’s soul and I’m completely encompassed in other…things. As much as I love this little effer, it’s been a conscious choice to keep making it happen, but I know that the consistency and tradition will pay off for a sister one day. ANYHOO. This year’s elf shenanigans has welcomed a new friend. Or two. We will start with Griswold. This January, me and my youngest daughter were in Goodwill, and I spotted him sitting there on the shelf beckoning me in his shiny, new box.. “Tara, your life isn’t enough of a festering hot, Great Dane sized whopping explosive doo droppings lit on fire. Buy me and lose even more of your sanity.” Because this brand new elf had such a way with words, I bought him with uncontained excitement, with long lists of ideas already starting in my head.

2 elves +

1 new faux fireplace =

HEAVEN.

Yeah, we got a new faux fireplace from my husband’s Aunt. It’s amazing and wintry, and Christmasy, and just screams for an elf to perch himself on its brick paved threshold. Another exciting notch in my elf belt. It’s frayed and I keep having to loosen it, and all the pants I used to use it to hold up have gotten too small. But, you get what I mean…Oh, and my husband’s birthday is in November. We got him a New York Giants “elf.” Somehow (My kids call him “Junior,” but I call him Giant Butthole) GB has managed to pry himself into every single elf scene so far this season. I’m not sure how that translates into real life, where he is just super accustomed to losing.

I have probably 2 more full weeks of “Believing” from my twins. They’re on the extremely observant, early middle school quizzical, cool side, and I’m actually surprised there have been no questions so far. I’m positive that this year will be my last Christmas with believers under my roof. (SAD EMOJI) So, I do feel compelled to make this a banner year. I was driving with my youngest daughter the other day and she told me: “I’m a little nervous about Griswold. I feel like he’s going to be really evil. We got him at Goodwill. I mean, he was RE-GIFTED!” Now, most moms would tell their child “Child: There, there. Don’t fret your weary self. For the elf shallst not harm you. He’s merely a symbol that is used as leverage by lazy parents to trick children into believing that Santa will learn of their naughty behaviors as the fake elf fake flies to fake Santa every night and comes home while tired Mommy and well-rested Daddy find yet another place for the effer to go.” Wait, that went off track just a little. But, regardless – my immediate reaction was “Challenge accepted!”

So, after slightly reconfiguring my list of elf antics, me and my oldest daughter decide on a game plan. See how sweet and affectionate Griswold starts off? What a nice fellow. He really appreciates us opening up our house and me giving up an hour each night after the kids go to bed. BAHA.

The next night, Griswold wasted no time as his menacing ways have surfaced full force. My oldest daughter created this whole scene. She climbed up on the chair and thumb tacked that ribbon to the ceiling. I’m over here sitting on the couch like a lazy conductor yielding a glass of wine, yelling: “More to the left! Think about the pics!” She is sporting a bead of sweat while she shimmies left, then right, second guessing her every step. Then, lazy couch conductor yells: “End scene!” In all reality, I’m sort of becoming a teensy bit jelly of her elf skillz.

Dang. To be bamboozled in your own home. I’m going to throw this out there also for the world to see: Nicky has at least 3 outfits that I just can’t freaking find. I would change up his ensemble, and not have him wear the $2.99 wine sweater that is sold in Walgreens for the wine connoisseur, but there. I said it. His clothes are lost and I kind of don’t care. Although, there was a funny “ugly sweater contest” idea that I had that will *sniff* never get enacted.

griswold1 Not only is he mean, but he is cocky as all get out. Of all the average height non-spindly leg and non felt faux Santa suit replica wearers, I’m sure that Wonder Woman will choose him above everyone else. GB and Nicky are uber embarrassed.

Damn, the audacity. That’s the Raiders Jersey, the Bucs’ rival team. My son and husband have season tickets. The funny thing is that my son thinks I am clueless about football. Wait, I’m clueless about football. But, a sister does know how to Google shit. Griswold is asking for a beating.

Sometimes I wonder if GB has a mind of his own at all. So, I actually do start making an Elf list in January each year, to help myself out when the time comes so I can scan my list to choose a scene and save myself a butt load of time. But, sometimes the scenes that sprout up organically end up being my favorites. Like the one below. My husband took my girls to a Katy Perry concert. I don’t really have any cherry chap stick or weird vinyl ice cream outfits or blue wigs lying around, but I know they purchased some merch and aside from a snarky ass sign, that’s really all I need.

elfswift

I noticed a couple days later that Griswold’s handwriting is becoming super fancy and neat for an illiterate, uneducated jackwad. It was gradual and the kids didn’t notice. Actually, looking for the elves this year was pretty secondary (first priority was hair gel and phone checking) so I think I’m clear on the handwriting fiasco. I am sad that the elf phase has come to a close. I put a lot of thought into crafting a sarcastic Christmas scene for my kiddos every year, and I’m not mad about not having to do it next year. Many people have told me: “Oh, even though your kids won’t believe anymore, I’m sure you will still continue with your elf shenanigans, because the kids will still enjoy it.” I say to those positive, helpful life gurus: “No, the hell I won’t. 6 years. 6 years I have been putting every bead of sweat and every brain cell into this elf thing. I absolutely loved it. It created a special, fun Christmas tradition for us that my kids will never forget. I cherish every second. I LOVED THE HELL OUT OF THIS 6 YEAR ELF STINT. NO LIE. However and henceforth – but, I will not fret a second of my decision to retire that red, flimsy felt *#@(&*hole. I received my elf degree, and it’s time to graduate with the rest of the weary, aching class.”

Look at that stupid ass cousin Eddie hat that I tried to craft out of Star Wars material. Merry Christmas to everyone, and cheers to me next year! CLINK! Here’s to me climbing in bed at 9:00 and NOT HAVING TO GET UP AGAIN AT MIDNIGHT. Woot.

Elf on the Shelf FINAL Volume

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