Our elf on the shelf. Clap. You know...that little red elf that brings me (I mean my boys) so much joy during the holiday season? The one that I bought a $7 (plus shipping) red and white striped tie on Etsy for, so he'd be differentiated from all the other "out-of-the-box" elfs. The tie that came un-tied after a mere 24 hours. The frantic email I sent to the Etsy shop, which was almost immediately returned with detailed instructions (including a 5-part picture tutorial) to re-tie the tie. The 37 minutes I spent following the tutorial to re-tie the tie. The countless hours I've spent planning the elfs hiding places each night. The hundreds of photographs I've taken of the elf in his precarious positions...Yep. That elf.
Well, he's nowhere to be found.
And I'm having a panic attack. Albeit, a Christmas induced, elf related panic attack. But a panic attack is a panic attack, right?
I'm not proud of myself right now.
It's 2am, and I've been up since midnight. After a certain 3 year old snuck into our bed, relegating me to the very edge, I couldn't fall back asleep. Combine that with the fact that I'm not in my right mind (with the height of the Christmas season fast approaching and all) and you have the perfect storm.
So I spent the next 30 minutes thinking about where to move our elf. And by move, I don't mean to another shelf. I mean some clever, thoughtful, hilarious (to me) elf "situation". This is ridiculous behaviour, I know. My pre-kid self would have judged the hell out of me. If Elf on the Shelf was a thing when I was in my early 20's, I would have had a field day mocking all of the parents that bought into the hype. Yet here I am
Since I still couldn't sleep, I went downstairs to execute my plan, smugly smiling to myself at how prepared I was.
And that's when I realized he was gone. GONE.
Seriously. Our house isn't that big. Where did he go? For the next 30 minutes I searched. Frantically. In the dark. Tip-toeing with the flashlight on my iphone. I looked in drawers, under couches, behind curtains. I even folded an entire basket of laundry in the "hopes" that maybe he'd been thrown into the wash earlier in the evening. I scanned Jack's room (waking him up in the process) to see if Clap was in his crib, or on his bunk bed.
Nothing.
So I went back to bed. Thirty seconds later, my eyes were wide open. My heart was racing, and I went downstairs again and did another lap of the house (in the dark) to no avail.
I'm the most type-A, organized person you'll come across, and it's just not acceptable to LOSE AN ELF. How does that even happen? Where could he have gone? And maybe most importantly, why do I care so much?
I'm going to chalk it up to the fact that I'm focused on making this the most magical Christmas for my boys. They finally "get it" this year, and I'm so unbelievably excited to experience the season through their eyes. It's like being a kid all over again. Only better.
I love decorating the house for the holidays. I love designing, addressing, and mailing our holiday cards. I love coming up with lists of toys, books, and clothes to buy, and I love on-line shopping even more. Wrapping? I have an entire closet with my wrapping supplies. I've been planning Christmas since July. Maybe earlier. I look forward to the expressions on their faces each morning when they race around to find Clap. I am giddy in excitement thinking about Christmas morning...watching them open presents (in their matching Hannah Anderson pajamas) and all of the memories we've been making in the process.
And the missing elf? I know it's not a real tradegdy. It's not life or death. And it's probably not worth the three hours of sleep I've lost over it tonight.
But, it's a setback.
So with that, it's 3am and I'm going to attempt to go back to bed. Tomorrow is a new day, and maybe Clap will resurface. If not, I already checked on-line and the Avon Target has them in stock.
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