Cookies and Elves

Last night we had our neighborhood cookie exchange. Normally, I join in with the baking but this year with everything we are doing in the house and an oven malfunction, I didn't bake my traditional peanut butter cookies with Hershey's Kisses in the middle. I was exhausted but didn't want to be anti-social so I was going to go for one glass of wine and come home to go to bed. Even as I planned to come home early and go to bed, I left my house with all the kids finishing a late dinner and Gia looking like she was not even close to being ready for bed. All I could think was that the cookie exchange would probably be more relaxing than trying to go to bed early. I drove and yes, it was around the corner and took longer for the car to warm up, but I don't enjoy walking in the cold and with so many coyote sightings in our neighborhood, I didn't want to walk. I'm pretty sure the animals in this neighborhood can smell my fear so I think I might be an easy target. God knows I am not scaring any raccoons or mice away. Anyway, the night started with the neighbor across the street from where it was held running out in a panic because my car was an inch over his drive-way. He was leaving and afraid I was blocking him. I only got out of my car to see if I had cleared the drive-way so I assured him I was leaving and marked him, in my head right up there with the guy whose dog pooped on my yard.

I ended up staying until about 11:30. I can't help myself. The women in my neighborhood are some of the funniest women I know. I mean, my stomach hurt from laughing and each time I leave them, I wonder why I don't see them more often because they are the kind of women that people want to surround themselves with. Down to earth, genuine, funny, funny, funny women. At one point, someone was surprised that I was still there and I said, "I feel like I am asleep standing up but I'm waiting until the last possible minute to go home because I am afraid if I do, I'll find my husband and my son playing video games, my twins watching a movie or TV show they aren't supposed to and my baby still awake eating hard candy." In all fairness to Leo, when I walked in at 11:30, everyone was sleeping and guess what was waiting for me?

Letters from the freaking elf and not one but two. In all my smarty-pantness (I know, made up word), I shot myself in the foot with this one. Tommy came home from school telling everyone not to worry. His friend's house wasn't decorated and his elf found his house so all I had to do was find Santa and tell him that we needed an elf. Then they tell me that all of their friends have their own elves so could I ask Santa to bring them their own. Why I didn't just say I couldn't find Santa or that Santa said the lights need to be up, I have no idea. Instead, I bought two "elf on a shelf " ornaments and put them out for them. It was the effort they put forth that sold me. They both wrote letters and want to believe so badly that they exist that in order to keep the magic alive, I gave in and I am regretting every single flipping minute of it! Now picture this: I got home last night at 11:30, totally wiped out and I find two letters from the kids to their elves asking a ton of questions. Tommy's letter was one page front and back and Isabella's letter was 3 pages! I swear! Now, last year, I would type the letters so they couldn't tell it was from me. It took all of 30 seconds. This year, we have no printer so I have to HAND-WRITE them! And I can't just write it in my regular handwriting because then they'd know it was me so I have to do some dumb squiggle writing for Tommy that takes me FOREVER and some college-dot-writing for Belle. I could have cried real tears for how long it took me to answer all their questions. Do you know how hard it is to come up with two different answers for what an elf's favorite sport is??? The best part is that our morning is set back because they are looking for the elf that I had to hide because "that's the best part, Mom...finding where the elf is hiding." So in a sense, I just added to the chaos of this household by upholding the magic of the elf. Ughhh. Please...tell me somewhere I am getting points for this in some sort of "Mom of the Year" award because all I really want to do is scream, "IT'S ME! I'M THE DAMN ELF!"

That's not very Christmas-like, is it?