We're Done Here

Dear Chicago,

You know I love Christmas. All things Christmas, in fact. All the Christmas things. With the following exceptions:

- Santa. For obvious reasons he is a big fat no. Santa's only purpose is to sit and smile for all of the holiday photos with the little children sitting sobbing on his lap. That's it. Joker isn't coming down my chimney and he's not eating all the cookies and he's not bringing presents. He just isn't. He's sitting in the mall with hordes of people flocking toward him while Christmas music plays over the mall's mediocre sound system. That's all.

- Holiday shoppers. They're the worst. Lawd, they test my patience. Good thing there's that online option and Free Shipping Fridays (which I've only recently learned is a thing and I've decided it's a thing straight from the Almighty himself). And yes, I realize that when I'm shopping during the holidays that I therefore fall under the holiday shopper umbrella but I'm rolling my eyes because I'm not as annoying as the rest. I'm not. Promise.

- Elf on the Shelf. This is getting out of hand. Last week the elf was riding shotgun in Barbie's pink convertible. The next day he and Barbie were getting cozy in her hot tub. But the winner- the day that the elf literally took the cake- was when he was sitting atop the mistletoe holding on with only one arm while the other was waving high above his head. Surely this wasn't a reference to miss Miley, I thought quietly to myself. And then little girl confirmed it- "LOOK CAITLYN, HE'S ON THE WRECKING BALL."

Am I going to be expected to come up with all of these hilariously inappropriate yet child friendly elf on the shelf placements one day when I'm a mother? Because you know how creative I am when I'm under pressure. I don't work well under pressure and you better believe that's a lot of pressure. I'll be the mom who puts the elf on the shelf in the Christmas tree for the duration of the holiday season. We won't believe in Santa (because I'm going to be getting due credit for the presents that I hunt down, pay for, AND gift wrap) but we will believe in middle of the mall Santa photos AND MY POOR CHILDREN will they be ridiculously confused? Because that's concerning.

One lovely trick that the elf on the shelf has taught me though has been the no touch rule reinforced by the idea that the elf will lose his magic if a child even so much as thinks about touching him.

Brilliant. Flawless. The most beautiful thing I've ever heard.

I've really capitalized on this whole elf magic thing.

Eat your broccoli because it's good because the elf added a dash of his magic. Basically it tastes like ice cream now.
Put your shoes away otherwise the elf won't know where to dump his "shoe magic" and then you won't grow as tall because your feet won't be stewing in elf magic all day. 
The elf will give you smart magic while you're doing your homework because he's real kind like that.

I've also adapted it a bit to include the fact that the elf speaks to adults telepathically so that the children can't hear what he's saying but the adults can feel what he's saying. It's genius. Pure genius.

Otherwise the elf is frustrating and I feel like he's really setting me up to fail as a mother.

But enough of that. Things are going fairly smoothly now. The little girl is gone most of the day now because of a new school opportunity. And baby boy doesn't speak a whole lot at this point. Last week I was slightly alarmed when little girl pointed at something beside the couch and calmly and clearly stated "There's maggots in there".
Umm... maggots?
Yeah. There's maggots in there.
Maggots- like little worms?
Yes, Caitlyn. There's maggots in there.
Okay, cool. Let's talk about where these maggots are exactly.
There's no maggots, Caitlyn! What are you talking about?

..... what are YOU talking about?

I'm thrilled to announce that there were no maggots. Last week I also learned a valuable lesson about spreading light with my eyes.

Caitlyn, do you see that green light?
You mean the stop light?
Is it green?
Yes.
Yes, then do you see the green stop light?
Mmhmm... I certainly do.
If you squeeze your eyes and wrinkle your nose you can spread the light isn't that the coolest thing you've done all day?
Wow, yeah! What's happening?
You're spreading the light! Let's sing a song about spreading the light.

So I broke it down. I sang an original song about spreading the light. I took the verses and she came in strong with the same chorus (almost) every time. It went something like this...

Spread the light! Squint your eyes and squeeze them and spread the light! When your nose wrinkles it works better to make that light spread. So that the light is spread and it's cool to see and then people see that the light is spread!

And then I really went for it- did my best to reach Whitney status and suddenly the rest of the chorus dropped out and when I paused to catch my breath little girl shouted "YOU'RE CRAZY".

She calls me crazy a lot. I think she thinks I'm insane.

Like when I sang the books of the Bible song for her and she stopped me when I got to Isaiah by announcing "we're done here" before quickly leaving the room.

BUT WAIT, I called after her. THERE ARE MORE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE. I HAVE MORE TO GIVE.

YOU'RE CRAZY. She shouted from the other room.

She's literally wild so the fact that she thinks that I'm crazy... not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, I'm pretty sure my future offspring will need all of the prayers.

All of them. Because their future mom has been called crazy one too many times at this point.

So that is what I've learned. And yes, I have been practicing spreading the light. I've spent most of my week with my nose wrinkled and my eyes squinted while approaching stop lights. Especially at night.

Just a quick note- make sure you're not completely closing your eyes. Just a squint will do.

Wanna hear a funny story? I'm currently sitting in the coffee shop just chilling and eating a salad and avoiding the sweet peppers and giggling to myself because the guy two tables down is an idiot.

I'll explain.

I was standing at the counter, paying for my salad, when all of a sudden a random arm was thrown across my shoulders as an unfamiliar voice shouted into my left ear, "HEY, HOW ARE YOU?"

So I turned to this stranger and I smiled my polite -I don't actually know you- smile until his giant -I haven't seen you in forever smile- faded into more of a -I am an idiot- grimace and then I laughed and I said - well I'm doing pretty well, who're you?

And then his arm returned quickly to his side and he backed away (literally, he backed away like I was about to bite him) and he began to apologize (poorly) because he was so embarrassed and he just kept repeating - I don't know you. I'm sorry. I don't know you. I didn't know. You look so.... I'm sorry. You're not her.

And then I laughed again and reassured him that all was okay and probably I made it a lot more awkward than it would've needed to be but my mind was screaming WHO IS THIS AND WHY IS HE TOUCHING ME DO I KNOW HIM WHAT'S HIS NAME HAVE I STALKED HIM BEFORE?

The answer is no- I have never stalked him. I literally have zero idea who this kid is.

But he's currently sitting two tables down. I kinda wish I had the guts to ask him for a selfie because that would be a hilarious addition to this post. But we know that would never happen because if Meredith taught me anything it's that talking to boys is scary and unpredictable and should therefore be avoided at all costs. And this one is pimply and little and clearly poses no threat. Like no wonder I can't talk to pretty ones or successful ones or kind ones or smart ones. I can't even approach a hugely embarrassed pubescent one.

Almost four years later and I'm still suffering from the long-term effects of living and studying at a women's college. 

Will it ever end?