Elf on the Shelf

I know I'm supposed to hate the Elf on the Shelf, but I love it. Our Elf, Elfis, usually comes on Thanksgiving night and stays through Christmas Eve, and I can't wait to see what he's going to do each year. 

Last year I lost my phone in a snow drift in Alaska and lost many of my pictures, but here are some. 

Elf one man band with k-cup drums and chopstick drumsticks and an ornament disco light. 

One morning Elfis snowed our window and wrote "The cold never bothered me anyway." 

One of my faves! A campout with sock sleeping bags, a luminary candle campfire, and roasting marshmallows from the Lucky Charms. They're also cooking a Swedish Fish over the pretzel firewood. 

Giddy up reindeer! 

We couldn't find Elfis anywhere, but opened the freezer to get waffles and there he was. With snow! I'm no elf expert, but it smelled like frozen shaving cream. 

Mickey Mouse ears before we went to Disney. 

Matching Elf aprons for The Boy and Elfis. 

He came in like a wrecking ball. 

Toddler proofing our tree: those large boxes are decoys to keep BeYoYo out of the ornaments. Elfis is hiding in the tree. 

November 1 (2016's Halloween post)

I have always loved dressing up. When I was a kid, my older cousin would give me her old dance recital costumes and it was the best present ever. 

Here I am as Jazz Minnie Mouse, or something. Does it matter what I am, actually, other than glittered and sassy?

And here I am as a hobo. I'm not sure why my mom had a hobo costume that she kept from her childhood, but I was rocking it.

Any time my school had spirit week, I was sure to dress the part.

So it's clear by now that I enjoy Halloween. Actually, I think Halloween is a little weird. It's bizarre that we all dress up and send our kids to strangers' houses to beg for candy once a year. And it's bizarre that no one thinks it's bizarre. It's the costumes I love really, and the excuse to wear them. Yesterday in Athens I saw someone driving (and smoking and texting) with a happy emoji mask and a Bob Marley wig, and I saw an older lady walking down the street with a walker in full clown costume. What's not to love??

But November 1. November 1 I do not like. November 1 is like Halloween's dark and weird cousin that no one talks about. To say November 1 is lame would be to imply that it is bland, benign, and has nothing to offer. Oh, the contrary. November 1 is depressing as the first day of rehab after a long night of partying.  November 1 is as rough as the sequins on my Jazz Minnie costume, but not nearly as pretty. And November 1 is sneaky, like taking the secret passage from the study to the kitchen in the classic game of Clue.

Let's back up. For weeks (and weeks and weeks) The Boy has talked about being Sonic The Hedgehog for Halloween. He has planned his costume down to the number of spikes it should have, and has confirmed and asked again and again if he could be it. Because I appreciate (and encourage) his love for costumes, I've tolerated much of this. I have also introduced the idea of 'creative license' and let him know that it doesn't have to be exactly like the real Sonic.

I wanted BeYoYo to have a good costume too. The Boy wanted him to be Sonic's sidekick, Tails, but he doesn't know who that is. I wanted something related, but that he'd appreciate, so naturally I asked him if he wanted to be french fries (from Sonic). He did. Done, and done. So I started working on both of their costumes.

On Wednesday we were going to trunk or treat at church. The Boy decided he'd like for them to be Batman and Robin, which we already had. So they went as the dynamic duo. A good time was had by all. Every year we've had multiple costumes for multiple events, so no problem. More details here and here and here. Mama loves it:

Then Saturday we went to the Wild Rumpus in Athens. This was The Boy's first time to shine in his costume that he'd designed. I painted his face, not an easy feat since I am no pro at face painting and he is no pro at sitting still. We both did really well, I'd say. The whole town comes out to play, and thousands of people gather in costumes to watch more people in costumes parade through the town. We'd been talking up BeYoYo's french fry costume too, and he would proudly announce "I be fren fries!" anytime we mentioned Halloween.

The Boy was Sonic, and loved it. He ran at super sonic speeds, and a few times tried to do some rolls on the ground to fully embody his character. I went as Sonic's sidekick, Tails. BeYoYo, on the other hand, was not as enthusiastic. He wore his costume for about 30 seconds, much of that crying "I no wike it! I take fren fries off!" He did smile momentarily when everyone seated outside cheered for him in his costume.

On Sunday we went to a birthday party where kids were invited to wear costumes. The Boy chose to be a Power Ranger, and BeYoYo chose to be a cowboy, both things we already had at home. Yesterday BeYoYo's class could wear costumes to school, and he wanted to be "Tar Wars!" I fished out an infant Jedi robe, that now fit him as a shirt, and he wore that.

Then last night I had everyone's costumes laid out again. I knew BeYoYo would likely not wear his, and I was okay with that. Since The Boy had been talking about Sonic for weeks (months?) I knew he'd wear his. I asked him if he wanted his face painted again, and he said no, and we both sighed in relief. Then he said he wasn't going to be Sonic. He said he was going to go as a power ranger again. I said okay, and sent him inside to change.

Naturally he came back out as Scooby Doo. Alright, man.  I never thought I'd say this, but it occurs to me that maybe one house can have too many costume choices.

Our friends came over (we have the cutest friends, ever) and we trick or treated with neighbors. And the boys really loved it. At one point BeYoYo said "I dark. I 'fraid!" but otherwise they loved running through the streets in the dark. BeYoYo did cry when he got chocolate on his chin, but he held up pretty well. We let the boys stay up too late, and eat too much, and be too wild, because childhood. They came home and crashed.

Then this morning, it was November 1. The fun was long gone. Responsibility loomed. We need to be up by 6:30 and leave for school by 7:40, but I let The Boy sleep in. I didn't want to start November 1 any more than he did. He said he couldn't go to school, he said he had a tummy ache, and a headache. He was hungover from a good time last night and wanted to avoid the real world. I knew it, because I felt it too. We plunged ahead. He refused to get dressed. I set a timer and warned him that if he wasn't dressed when the timer went off in 5 minutes that I would take him to school in his pajamas. We've been through this before, so he's heard these words in the past, but he's always managed to just squeak by in time. He called me on it, and did not get dressed before the timer went off, not even a little bit.

So I took him to school in his pajamas. He had slept in a dinosaur t-shirt and cartoon pirate tight fitting pants. When the timer went off I calmly picked him up in his pajamas and carried him to the car. He was pissed, and he let me know it. I buckled him in his seat and went back to get brother. When I opened the door to put BeYoYo in, The Boy threw his pants at me. Somehow he remained fully buckled, but in an impressive move of defiance that stretched the limits of contortionism and elastic, had gotten his pajama bottoms off. He was now fully buckled in his t-shirt and underwear. I didn't let on that I was impressed.

He cried that he didn't want to wear his pajamas "these clothes are dirty because I slept in them!" even though he'd wear pajamas for 48 hours straight on the weekends if we let him. I felt a twinge of guilt that perhaps November 1 is not the day to come down hard with the consequences, since we contributed to the chaos last night (and the night before. And the night before that. It's been an exhaustingly busy week). It was one of those times where I thought to myself "either this is going to work, and he'll know I mean it when I say he needs to get dressed, or I'm the worst parent ever. It could go either way." When we pulled up at school, I told him he could choose if he wanted to go in in his underwear or pajama bottoms. Begrudgingly he put them back on. Thank the Lowered, because I don't know if I could have made him go in the building with just a t-shirt and underwear on. I need to think these things through better sometimes.

Before I sent him in I snapped a picture of the note I was sending his teacher in his book bag, and I sent it to my friend with the message "we've had a rough morning". His friends greeted him with smiles, and he sulked as he went in his class. Whew.

Yes, that's a Batman notepad. Apparently even our stationary has costumes. 

When I picked The Boy up from school today I told him I wasn't sure exactly what went wrong this morning, but his choices might have had something to do with the amount of candy he'd had, or the fact that he'd stayed up late. Since we weren't sure which of those it was, I told him calmly, he wasn't going to eat any of his Halloween candy, and he was going to bed early. He didn't object. I asked him if any of his friends asked about his pants, and he said yes "I just told them my mom made me wear them" he answered. Touché, Batman/Sonic/PowerRanger/Scooby. You chose everything you wore to every event all week, today's pajama bottoms included. Maybe November 2 will be better for us all.