The fantastic thing about buying into the stupid, terrible Elf on a Shelf thing (or having your child buy into it for you) is that you can wake up and, first thing in the morning, realize that you have Failed As A Parent again.
That was my morning. I woke up and headed downstairs and J was stomping around and immediately I knew: I hadn’t moved Holly the Elf. Oh, man, I hate it. The thing is, on a good day, J is chortling away at Holly’s new choice of location, her nutty antics or, once in a while, a lovely little treat. But these good days require me to remember to move her. I went to a Board of Education meeting last night that dragged on and on, then I worked on the KidsOutAndAbout newsletter, and next thing you know it was past midnight and I was past remembering the important things. Like Keeping the Magic Alive For My Young Daughter.
It wasn’t a great start to the day. J was unpleasant to be around, and then, when it was 2 minutes before she was allowed to leave for school (because both of my kids go as early as they are permitted, not a trait that they inherited from their mother), we went outside to watch M and Cute W juggling soccer balls. Cute W was saying goodbye to J and I gave M a big fake good-morning smile and. . . she was also deeply unpleasant for no apparent reason. So then I walked into the house and cried, but only for about 2 minutes, and it could be lunar-calendar related. When they got back inside, M seemed to feel a little bit guilty about it, though, so that’s a plus, right?
I went to a class at the Schenectady JCC that you should probably try if it’s local to you. It’s a Medicine Ball-Pilates class, which means that for the first half you’re doing cardio with a bit of weighted-ball strength thrown in, and then the second half is Pilates. Now that’s efficient! And I just found out today that you can walk in for only $5 for this class. Meanwhile, I’m super-sore from the HIIT Interval Blast class that I tried on Monday for the first time. It was taught by Jean, who’s locally notorious for kicking people’s butts. I thought, briefly, that I might throw up. But I worked out much harder than I ever do at home, so I guess I’ll go back. On an empty stomach. It’s also conveniently scheduled from 7-7:45 pm, and then M needs a ride home from her soccer practice there at 8 pm, so I’m working on recruiting other soccer parents to join me.
What else? Oh, I tried to donate some pajamas and other clothes at Things Of My Very Own late this morning, and I walked right into somebody’s house! They’re located at 202 Front Street, so when I saw a wide-open door at 202A, I walked in to ask if I was at the right place. Ummm, nope. The women were laughing: apparently I’m not the first. Once an old lady was inside the apartment sitting on their couch when they got home! For the record, if anyone goes to make a donation, take a left into the parking lot, then look right to see the entrance, which had a small paper sign on the door.
J just walked by and noticed the picture of Holly. I quickly scrolled away from my writing and held my breath. “You heard that Holly didn’t move last night, didn’t you?” I said that I had, and that I thought that maybe she just really thought that J’s room was cozy.
“My theory,” J announced, “is that any time someone touches her, she loses her magic for one day. And M touched her yesterday.”
“Hmm,” I pretended to consider. “Maybe you’re right about that.”
Sure, I threw my elder daughter under the bus. But it’s a small price to pay to keep some magic.