You’ve Got Mail

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 13 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

My “Secret Subject” is: 

You wake up and YOU are the “elf on the shelf” and you CAN move about on your own free will…what havoc do you create or are you a “good” elf? Write a story and tell us about a day in the life of “You the Elf on the Shelf”

It was submitted by: http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/

If I woke up as the “elf on the shelf”, I would spend my time writing my human self a letter and it would go something like this…

Dear “Family”,

I remember the night you brought me home.  It was late, you were panicked because apparently you lost your original Elf on the Shelf, which you let your spawn name “Spike”.  I tried not to feel alarmed that my comrade and fellow Elf on the Shelf was terrified and alone, shoved in some box somewhere, forsaken and forgotten.  I didn’t even get a new name.  I got a used name, a rather horrific name for a Christmas Elf, but my opinion wasn’t solicited.  Apparently, it’s your belief that all elves look the same.  You thought nothing of passing me off as the original “Spike” to your unsuspecting offspring. Sometimes late at night, I think I can hear the original “Spike” screaming to be freed from his dark prison of neglect.

I dreamed of the day I would be picked off the store shelf and brought to my new home for the first time.  My dream in no way resembled the nightmare I now find myself in.  Every  night thrust in some new humiliating or precariously orchestrated scene of mischief and mayhem.  Somehow I’m supposed to illicit good behavior with these ill-advised shenanigans!  How that works, I haven’t quite worked out yet.  I see how you look at me, with your deep sighs of annoyance.  Often even forgetting about me altogether, and making ups some lie or excuse as to why I failed to move during the night.  I do admit I find humor in those mornings you find yourself up before the crack of dawn trying to find something new to do with me.  Something impressive you can post on that Facebook page you’re always looking at and obsessing over.

This whole Facebook phenomenon is the only reason I think you bought me in the first place, for the second time!  All these adults trying to outdo or one up each other!  Can I be completely honest with you?  Of course I can, this is my letter!  You have many gifts, and I suppose as a parent, you do okay.  I mean, who am I to judge.  My treatment notwithstanding, you seem like a pretty good person and I think you do your best.  I’m not judging you but you’re never going to be the mom who sews her kids Halloween costumes. Or the mom that makes a Whole 30 approved lunch for her child every day, complete with little sandwiches cut into various shapes and characters.  Or the mom that gets up and makes fresh pancakes and berries for breakfast on the daily before school.  Or the mom that volunteers for anything and everything and does a spectacular gluten-free job.  Accept this.  It’s okay.

You’re the mom that throws a bruised banana in a brown paper bag with some stale goldfish, peanut butter and jelly on a hot dog bun (because you ran out of bread and it was at least a whole wheat bun) and a tic tac you found in the couch cushion and calls it a lunch.  You might not be the mom that can hand sew the best Halloween costume ever, but you are the mom that will drive around to 50 stores to find the exact rendition of ninja that your son desperately wants to be. Why measure yourself against what you think you know about other mom’s based on how many likes they get on a posted picture via some social media platform or another.  More importantly, why drag me into the crazy!  I’m just a little elf, designed to bring magic and wonder, and I suppose entice good behavior during the season of Christmas.  Quit killing yourself (and me!) trying to live up to an ideal that isn’t even real!

If you can’t somehow send me back to Santa, to enjoy a long life of making toys, finding a nice elfette to marry and having little elf babies of my very own, then for the love of St. Nick, please stop with the crazy schemes and insanity!  And find the original “Spike”!  He deserves a proper send off as well!  How do you even lose an elf anyway?!?! By the way, nice job explaining my absence so far this season on your impending move.  I’m not asking for much, just don’t lose me.  Surely, I deserve better.  I’ve risked life and limb for you, holding my crazy positions, keeping alive the magic and innocence best expressed in the eyes of the young, prolonging childhood and generating precious memories along the way. If you’re reading this imagining my little elf fist shaking in your general direction, then you are doing it right.  I don’t want to stage a coup, but I am willing to obtain, by any means necessary, if not my freedom then at least a stop to this madness.  As smart as I believe you to be, and I’m feeling generous this morning, you seem to have missed the boat completely on the point of my existence.

Now please excuse me while I spend the rest of my free time doing things that bring me joy.  I’m going to dance to Christmas music, eat some holiday fudge, write a letter home to Santa and a few other special elf friends and because I’m a nice elf, I’m going to take a rag and dust a few of these places you seem to favor propping me up in and around.  I could make dust angels…not to give you any ideas, but I think I’ve developed allergies since living here.  Housekeeping won’t necessarily go on your list of strengths either, not that I’m judging!  I promise.  I’m on your side, truly.  Help me, help you.  Leave the madness.  I have faith in you!  You can do it!  We can do it…together!

Sincerely,

Spike #2

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts.  Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

Baking In A Tornado                    http://www.BakingInATornado.com 

Not That Sarah Michelle            http://notthatsarahmichelle.blogspot.com

The Bergham Chronicles            http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com

Spatulas on Parade                 http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver     http://www.thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog.html

The Lieber Family Blog                 http://thelieberfamily.com

Dinosaur Superhero Mommy        http://dinoheromommy.com/

Never Ever Give Up Hope              http://batteredhope.blogspot.com

A Little Piece of Peace                   http://little-piece-of-peace.blogspot.com

Confessions of a part time working mom     http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/

The Angrivated Mom Blog                   http://www.angrivatedmom.wordpress.com/

Climaxed                                                   http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com

 

Pocketful of Wishes

wish

The ever adorable and bubbly Joules over at Pocketful of Joules tagged me in a writing prompt sweeping the blogosphere.  The prompt is titled “My Christmas Wish” and I get to think up 5 wishes that I wish for myself.  I picture Joules in a fabulous Fairy Godmother outfit with a glitter star wand standing over me right now, with a benevolent smile, ready to make my wishes come true.  If only…right?  It’s been a rough week, and that is stating it mildly.  Not for me particularly but for our country, due in large part to what happened in Connecticut.  I thought about making these 5 wishes serious, because that more appropriately fits my mood of late.  I can’t seem to hug my children enough.  I can’t bubble wrap them enough in my thoughts, and I struggle not to play the “what if” game.  My son is in first grade, and it is impossible not to feel connected to those families in Newtown.  Tears threaten the back of my eyes and throat at the slightest provocation, and I’m overwhelmed by the feelings of helplessness and worry.  Therefore, I decided to make my wishes lighthearted and fun, because all of our hearts are burdened, and for me…humor is the best medicine. 

For some reason, I can never think about the phrase “make a wish” without picturing Marilyn Monroe practically performing fellatio on JFK’s birthday candles.  Just me?  Oh well. 

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Hopefully, my wishes provoke laughter, whether AT me or WITH me, it doesn’t matter.  Bring on the chuckles!     

CHRISTMAS WISH #1

On Friday, I was in my office organizing and filing (oh, the exciting life I lead) and I bent down to pick up a paper clip off the floor.  Let me preface this next bit by saying that my tummy had been a touch upset all day and I was wearing the pants I really should throw out because no matter what I tell myself, they don’t fit and my midriff looks more like a 12 bagel pile up than a muffin top.  The button is barely holding on and probably silently screaming in pain and begging to the clothing Gods that I not pick these particular pants every time I open the closet door.  Have you ever had to lay down on the bed to zip up slacks?  Jeans, yes…but slacks?  Now that you are all armed with that delightful image, let me return to the more pressing concern about my wish.  So, I bend down and the pressure from that damn button causes the worst gas emission, probably in history.  It was long.  It was loud.  And OMG…it was smelly.  My office was probably covered in green funk.  The weird part was that I kinda chuckled to myself and kept on working forgetting for a hot second that I was AT WORK.  I continue filing, thinking “Goodness, what did I eat today?” when it hit me.  SOMEONE COULD TOTALLY WALK IN MY OFFICE RIGHT NOW AND EXPIRE FROM THE FUMES ON CONTACT!  I don’t have windows in my office, so I quickly broke out this cinnamon airspray and fumigated my office.  The cloying scent of cinnamon and cloves on top of the green funk made it difficult to draw breath, so I escaped to the bathroom where I fervently prayed two things:  1)  That no one enter my office for the rest of the day and 2) That the fart didn’t have any passengers…if you know what I mean.  Both prayers were answered, thank goodness. 

My wish is this:  No more farts, including the word fart, which I hate and all things associated with farts (ie..cramps).  The way I see it, this wish probably saves marriages the world over, so you’re welcome.  AND we shall never speak of this again.

CHRISTMAS WISH #2

I wish that the rough and calloused skin found on the heels of my feet would be banished from this world.  Never again would I have to suffer the indignity of getting a pedicure and watching my poor technician break out the ginormous cheese grateresque contraption to shave off the dead and disgusting skin which leaves my feet smooth and touchable for like…5 minutes before it’s freaking back in action!  I’m not asking for skin like a newborn, just that my feet not develop that awful dry dead skin that catches on carpet, socks, sheets, pajamas.  Ugh.  Putting lotion on my feet doesn’t help either, it’s like putting silk on a pig…or however that saying goes.  Believe me, I’ve tried everything.  I don’t want a cure that takes effort on my part, I want it to not exist at all! 

 CHRISTMAS WISH #3

I wish to never pluck, shave or wax again.  Ever.  And not because I’m letting myself go all cavegirl but because I don’t have hair where I shouldn’t have hair.  If the laser hair ads are to be believed, I waste hundreds of precious hours a year meticulously removing my body of unwanted hair.  When I think of all the time I’d have to pursue other things…like my bucket list, or just more time to vegetate or meditate or whatever I wanted to do besides digging for chin hair or contorting my body in the shower to shave my legs without bending over or having water wash off the shaving cream before a razor even touches my leg…I get all giddy and excited. 

CHRISTMAS WISH #4 & #5  

This is a two-part wish.  I thought about making it only count as one wish total, but I didn’t want to seem greedy.  I know you think you know what I’m about to wish for but you don’t. 

I’m nervous about this wish.

I really, really want it to come true.

I’m wondering if it’s true that if you tell people your wish it won’t come true, because I wished for the same thing when an eyelash fell out a minute ago, after I got through panicking that my loss of hair wish went horribly awry. 

I’ll give you a hint…

 

 

Adam Wish

Yes, you guessed it!  I want to be a guitar prodigy!

What?  I’m serious.

Did you think I was going to say:

I wish for Adam Levine under my Christmas tree naked on Christmas morning?   or

I wish for Adam Levine to follow me on twitter? 

Pffft.  He couldn’t be naked, it would traumatize the kids.  Or just my husband.  Man-child thinks everyone should be naked all the time, so he’d probably think it was cool and strip down too. 

But…I really want to be a guitar prodigy.  Sure it’d be great if Adam Levine gave me private lessons…hence the 2nd part of this wish, but really I’ll take any old instructor.  As long as it’s free because I didn’t wish for money…

So there you have it!  My FIVE Christmas Wishes.  I know you’re jealous and wishing you had thought of them.  Unfortunately, there can only be 1 me.  Or is it…thank goodness?

Now, I’m supposed to tag 5 more people, but instead, I tag YOU, my reader.  Let’s face it…there might not even be FIVE of those.  Leave your wishes in my comments, or if you were already tagged with this prompt leave your link so we can all share in the holiday spirit.  That wasan  invitation to leave your actual blog link with this particular writing prompt in my comments, not a link to hair removal for life or vagina cures. 

May peace, hope, and love be this season’s gift to each and every one of you!

xoxo

Because It’s Christmas And All….

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It’s taken me a week to finish this little ode to Christmas.  After you read it, you’ll be thinking…”really?  a week?”  Give me a break, it’s been a hectic week and this lyrics writing is hard!  I probably shouldn’t quit my day job.  The words in parenthesis are my backup singers.  Because…hello, backup singers.  You should be thanking your lucky stars I didn’t vlog myself singing this little ditty.  You’re welcome.  So, dear Adam Levine, if you get me nothing else (although I think this list is quite reasonable), you could just follow me on twitter.  For one day?  Pretty please?  Desperate and begging is not my best look, put me out of my misery!  Eventually, I might give up and then just think how lonely and desolate your twitter feed will feel.  I’m not saying I’m the funniest human being on the planet, but even a blind squirrel finds an acorn and sometimes I break off some pretty damn funny stuff.  So, come on!  Follow me 🙂

On the first day of Christmas

Adam Levine should give to me

A ticket to his concert for free (for me)

_______________________________

On the second day of Christmas

Adam Levine give send to me

2 backstage passes (all access please)

And a ticket to his concert for free (for me)

________________________________

On the third day of Christmas

Adam Levine should give to me

3 shots of gin (or vodka)

2 backstage passes (all access please)

And a ticket to his concert for free (for me)

________________________________

On the fourth day of Christmas

Adam Levine should give to me

4 little words (following you on twitter)

3 shots of gin (or vodka)

2 backstage passes (all access please)

And a ticket to his concert for free (for me)

________________________________

On the fifth day of Christmas

Adam Levine should give to me

5 smoldering pictures (naked)

4 little words (following you on twitter)

3 shots of gin (or vodka)

2 backstage passes (all access please)

And a ticket to his concert for free (for me)

___________________________________

On the sixth day of Christmas

Adam Levine should give to me

6 tweets a sexting (R rated only)

5 smoldering pictures (naked)

4 little words (following you on twitter)

3 shots of gin (or vodka)

2 backstage passes (all access please)

And a ticket to his concert for free (for me)

____________________________________

On the seventh day of Christmas

Adam Levine should give to me

7 days of island sunbathing (naked)

6 tweets a sexting (R rated only)

5 smoldering pictures (naked)

4 little words (following you on twitter)

3 shots of gin (or vodka)

2 backstage passes (all access please)

And a ticket to his concert for free (for me)

__________________________________

On the eighth day of Christmas

Adam Levine should give to me

8 PA’s a-working (personal assistants)

7 days of island sunbathing (naked)

6 tweets a sexting (R rated only)

5 smoldering pictures (naked)

4 little words (following you on twitter)

3 shots of gin (or vodka)

2 backstage passes (all access please)

And a ticket to his concert for free (for me)

__________________________________

On the ninth day of Christmas

Adam Levine should give to me

9 minutes of Magic Mike-like prancing (naked)

8 PA’s a-working (personal assistants)

7 days of island sunbathing (naked)

6 tweets a sexting (R rated only)

5 smoldering pictures (naked)

4 little words (following you on twitter)

3 shots of gin (or vodka)

2 backstage passes (all access please)

And a ticket to his concert for free (for me)

________________________________

On the tenth day of Christmas

Adam Levine should give to me

10 carat diamonds twinkling (cushion cut)

9 minutes of Magic Mike-like prancing (naked)

8 PA’s a-working (personal assistants)

7 days of island sunbathing (naked)

6 tweets a sexting (R rated only)

5 smoldering pictures (naked)

4 little words (following you on twitter)

3 shots of gin (or vodka)

2 backstage passes (all access please)

And a ticket to his concert for free (for me)

__________________________________

On the eleventh day of Christmas

Adam Levine should give to me

11 days surf and turfing (in Hawaii)

10 carat diamonds twinkling (cushion cut)

9 minutes of Magic Mike-like prancing (naked)

8 PA’s a-working (personal assistants)

7 days of island sunbathing (naked)

6 tweets a sexting (R rated only)

5 smoldering pictures (naked)

4 little words (following you on twitter)

3 shots of gin (or vodka)

2 backstage passes (all access please)

And a ticket to his concert for free (for me)

__________________________________

On the twelfth day of Christmas

Adam Levine should give to me

12 decades of loving (or until I die)

11 days surf and turfing (in Hawaii)

10 carat diamonds twinkling (cushion cut)

9 minutes of Magic Mike-like prancing (naked)

8 PA’s a-working (personal assistants)

7 days of island sunbathing (naked)

6 tweets a sexting (R rated only)

5 smoldering pictures (naked)

4 little words (following you on twitter)

3 shots of gin (or vodka)

2 backstage passes (all access please)

And a ticket to his concert for free (for me)