How can you tell it's December? The Elf is on the Shelf

So, yeah... Rebelshire has a fecking elf.

He arrived 3 years ago in a fit of desperation on my part. Trapped at home As a stay at home mom of not one, but TWO rambunctious toddlers in a small NYC apartment, I was game to try anything that might get them to calm down as the holidays approached. The idea of a house elf who would do cute things and inspire them to not behave like lunatics make better choices was undeniably appealing. 

Of course, in my fuzzy little daydreams I neglected to factor in my Boy's monkey-like speed and agility, which are only matched by his natural desire to "examine" ALL THE THINGS. If you can imagine Wreck-It Ralph as a young child, you kind of get a picture of my kid. He breaks shite just looking at it.

Which is why our elf Donny didn't do much that first year except try to find the highest shelf in the apartment and play peek-a-boo. Even then he was captured more than once. If Donny was real, he'd never have made it home alive for Christmas.

Don't misunderstand, the kids enjoyed looking to see how many inches he'd moved, and talking to him from afar, but he's not particularly sought after or adored. Santa Claus he's not.

My Hubs, who didn't want the fecking thing to start with, got the most into it, honestly. He merrily embraced his inner tattle-tale, shouting "I'm going to tell Donny!" when particularly frustrated with our Rebels' behavior. At which point I want to gag him with the damn doll.

I'm sorry to be such a hater; I really am just jealous. Donny the Elf is kinda lame. I tried to make him do semi-entertaining things (that can be seen from below and far away). Yes, like a circus performer Donny does his act VERY high up, in places that are practically unreachable by those under 6 feet tall! Since I'm only 5'2", we have to rely on the magic of Christmas, and take care of the little. 

So it's understandable, I think, that as the turkey pictures were being replaced by all the obligatory elf arrivals a few years back,  I decided to do some informal polling on my Facebook page. I was hoping I could renew my enthusiasm for this "holiday tradition" we've saddled ourselves with.

Know what I learned? I'm not alone in my untethered annoyance. Overwhelmingly, people find the whole thing to be a pain in the tuckus, and a particularly creepy one at that. Because, if you've got doll phobias, or maybe even clown phobias, this little night stalker from the North Pole is a guaranteed trigger. 

Granted, a few of my peeps find all the impish improv to be delightful. These are, no doubt, the same folks having the elf to do all the naughty and/or super fun creative Pinteresty things. I'm sure their elves have photo albums and Pinterest boards all their own.

Seriously,  I'm sure this is my jealousy talking, but is it wrong I dream of an adorable way to shove the elf right in their creative A's?!

**A version of this post originally appeared on The Inklings of Life in December 2014.**

Seeking: Balance on the Thin Edge of a Coin

Balance. The word tumbles through her mind, like shoes in a dryer, as she washes down her morning meds with cold coffee. 

What am I doing? Nothing. No, I'm sitting here watching the rain, trying to sort out what to do, and wishing I could do nothing. Read all day. Stay in bed and recoup. Not that I'm sick, I'm just weary. 

It had been a long week; or a really long month. Maybe longer. 

Cooking to do, laundry to fold, and piles of clutter in every room. The disorder of her home a reflection of the chaos in her head.

I used to be just fine taking a day to do nothing. Now "nothing" feels like a symptom of something. I'm afraid of being lazy for the sake of it. 

Apathy. Becoming apathetic was her greatest fear. Being swallowed by the deep, wide, Nothing. 

At the same time she equally was afraid of becoming hyper-focused. Fixated. Compulsive.

Her chest tightened. They seem like two sides of the same coin. Two choices, all in or all out.

Where am I supposed to find the balance? 

Inspiring Serendipity: a How To List

I've mentioned this a time or two before, but music has always been my first love. 

Not that I'm musically inclined, mind you. My memories have nevertheless always seemed inseparable from the soundtrack.

At this point, I could ramble on in 20 directions - each path a song, each inspiring another story, or chapter, or cinematic photo montage. 

Instead, when asked what music inspires me, I've done what I so often do with difficult questions - I made a playlist. 

In point of fact, I attempted to compel a Top 10 list of songs that define and inspire me. I was going to make this a #10Thankful-type post. I failed. 

After several days of editing my various go-to song lists, I finally whittled it down to 20 videos on a YouTube playlist. 

Unlike days of old, when I used to make mix tapes/cds for my beloveds, I'm not breaking down all the deep musings that went into these choices in a lengthy set of liner notes. 

At least I'm not today. 

For now, I'll let this collected hour and twenty minutes of music speak for me. And I'd love to hear your thoughts on these songs, or even which songs you turn to for inspiration. 

I've given this playlist the  title of "BeFierce BeKind BePositive." You can see more of my favorite songs, as well as my own videos on my YouTube Channel. 

What do you fear you could endure?

What is your biggest fear? There's an interesting question for someone who struggles with anxiety. My mind immediately jumps to Franklin D. Roosevelt's first inaugural address: 

"...let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself -- nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts..." 

It turns out, however, there is one thing I fear more than my own fear. A few summers ago I came face-to-face with my fear. I'd love to say I overcame it, but... 

This was nothing like meeting a tarantula, although my whole life I have been petrified by spiders. Literally, if confronted by one, even the itsy-bitsiest of arachnids can send me into heart-pounding, frozen in place, panic. Unlike my friend Lola, I'm not concerned about them laying eggs in my mouth, or accidentally eating them, or even being bitten. The entirety of them being just freaks me the hell out. 

Logically, I know they serve a greater good, so I do my best to live and let live. If a spider is in my space, I can break through my panic to capture it and set it "free." Sure, there'll be a tremendous amount of squealing and running in circles shouting "ewwwww," but I'm a mom. Mom's get shite done. 

Now, if you ask others what their biggest fears are, I'd wager many will admit they fear death on some level. Particularly as we embrace the realities of parenthood, the idea of a premature death can be terrifying. 

While I get that, personally I've reached an age where my own bodily harm and questions about my mortality are frightening only because I am afraid what my loss would mean to my children and my husband. 

My husband, on the other hand, now we've come round to where my deepest fear comes from: his death. Even writing about this creeps me out, in a superstitious way. 

Because, the thing is, I saw it happen. One day, 16 months ago, I watched in horror as my tall, strong, stoic husband slowly collapsed to the floor of a toy store. For reasons that are still a medical mystery, he had a full body grand mal seizure. 

During those long minutes I held on to his hand as he convulsed, soothing him and begging him to stay with me. His eyes rolled back, blood eventually ran out of his mouth, and as his body relaxed in it's unconsciousness, I had a just enough time to imagine what life would be like for me, for my children, if we lost this man. 

I have never been so terrified in all my days. 

Would we endure? Of course, I know we would. As I know my loved ones would go on should a dire fate befall me. 

But if you're asking what I fear more than anything? 

To endure a life without my husband. 

Join me all November long for new posts as part of National Blog Posting Month. 

I Found Something Precious in a Crystal Ball

When we are small children objects appear without explanation.  Registered as little more than shapes colors on walls and high shelves; set pieces picked out according to someone else's esthetic. 

Some tchotchkes, however, call to the mind of a child.  

To this day, I cannot tell you where the crystal ball came from, nor how it came to sit upon my dresser. 

Yet, it was always there. I cannot remember one day of my life without it, truly. It was, and remains, one of the most fascinating things I have ever encountered. 

As a small girl I marveled at how someone was able to fold aluminum foil inside the sphere. It was clearly impossible, but in my limited experience no other substance had ever caught the light in the same way.

Hours and endless games could be spent playing with my beautiful crystal ball.  

Yes, in my head it remains a crystal ball, though it's not even glass. It's something more akin to a Lucite-acrylic. Did this tarnish its value? No, not in any way. In fact, as I grew older, more observant, this inspired deeper contemplation. For there were clearly bubbles inside. The mushrooms (they have always been mushrooms to my imagination) were not foil after all!?! Rather, and perhaps more extraordinarily they seemed to be pockets of air. 

I don't mind telling you, my mind still has a hard time working out how these shapes were blown inside a molten plastic. If I ask you to imagine someone blowing glass in reverse, perhaps you'll understand the conundrum as I see it. 

It's a crystal - Nothing more. But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams.  

~Jareth - The Goblin King from the movie Labyrinth~

I had been mulling over the magic of my crystal ball for twelve years by the time David Bowie spoke his lines as The Goblin King. 

A lifetime of turning the orb in my hands. Musing about the fairies who lived inside those mushrooms. Pondering the strange world of the gnomes who'd bestowed this gift to my bedside upon my birth. Rolling it in such a way I could see myself wandering a hillside in a lush green land across the sea. 

Precious time spent with my imagination trying to unravel mysteries of science, time, and a lifetime of questions and discoveries I could not even give words to. 

Although often clouded by dust and neglect, this silly trinket, my oldest muse, still sits on the window ledge by my bedside. A touchstone for me, yet merely visual background noise to the other players on this stage — in my life.

Join me for a new post every day in November.

Why I Remember All Things Wonderful "When I'm with You"

One night, *cough* a decade or more ago, Amy and I sat at my kitchen table drinking frozen strawberry margaritas and throwing out song lyrics that tickled our brains. 

We sang. We told stories. We ran to the interwebs for help when we couldn't remember what lyrics went to some vaguely remembered video. 

Fast forward to one night when I was playing a version of Name That Tune on my Facebook page. For the life of me, I couldn't remember the name of this song, any lyrics, or the band. I knew the lead singer was in a couple of one hit wonder hair bands. 

That's all I had, so that's all I texted my friend with. 

Remarkably, in a matter of minutes, after a few faltering text, she had the band name. Then the song title. 

Relationship shorthand, it's a beautiful thing, am I right? 

So on one level, "When I'm With You" is a lovely power ballad that evokes heady days of my youth. 

In the grander scheme of things it reminds me of the beautifully random, decades long conversation I've been having with dear friend. 

Friendship + Music + Shared Memories = Everything Wonderful

Destination: Anywhere in the Middle of Nowhere

Running for the sake 

of wind in my hair, laughing,
like the child I chase.

Pure, simple pleasure:

Able body and free will. 

Such is liberty.

Genie wished for legs
Not only to be his own 
Master, but to run. 

Inspired by my rebellious children, who run away from me with ever-so-much glee, as well as this week's prompt from Haiku Horizons. 

Previously, I mused about running in an entirely different direction. You can read that HERE. 

Mix Equal Parts Faith to Trust, and a Dash of Pixie Dust

Clouds of words floating. 
Thoughts mysteriously joined.
Poem, form thyself.

Ideas in flight! 
Flitting toward bright star light;
Poems are word sprites.

Inspired by these clouds I spotted on Tuesday, as well as this week's prompt from Haiku Horizons.