The Daily Elf: December 11th

We knew it was just a matter of time before they started making a royal mess. This trick is the elves favorite. The old flour-looks-like-snow gag. It never gets old.

“Uh dad! Come see the mess they made!”

The boys know we hate it when they make messes. It’s entirely different when the elves are the guilty culprits. Marshmallow snowmen. Snow elf angels. Bang wrote them a note…

“Were did you get the toothpick from and the marshmellose.”

They wrote back (after the boys went to bed) “From the cupboard”

I can only imagine what new stunts they will try to pull this year!


The Daily Elf

It’s after midnight. I didn’t turn into a pumpkin. Or a fruitcake.

DW and I just spent the last 4 hours wrapping presents. It was going okay until one of the elves became ever so slightly inebriated. You can tell by his wrapping.

And DW’s snorting laughter at him. Good times. We’re not done yet, but the rest will have to wait.

As for our elves… they had a little fun behind the Christmas tree. And no, they weren’t inebriated.


The Icers or How to Make A Royal Mess

Sugar cookies can be as much fun to make as they are to decorate. If you don’t like messes you might want to stop here. I don’t want to cause any aneurysms. I had the buttercream icing the right consistency. It tasted like I could devour the whole bag. Then I added the food coloring. The consistency went out the front door that one of the boys refuses to close upon entering or exiting the house.


It just made it messier. The boys thought it was amazing. All the swirling colors leaking and slipping from the  bag like they just couldn’t wait to land on a cookie. Much like the itchy bellies aching to steal a cookie.

Slipping off the cookie.
Slurped off fingers.
Sugar cookie mess!


If this is what the cookies look like you can imagine their hands looking like a Monet

Life Before and After Kids

We all had a life before our little parasites came along to suck every ounce of energy from our marrow. Our life was our own to do as we pleased. Beyond the scope of normal life responsibilities – work, bills, and doing whatever the hell we wanted – we were pretty free. Normal things were normal. Simply using the bathroom wasn’t even a thought. We just did our business and washed our hands. But life has changed drastically since those days. *If you don’t have kids, let this be your warning.*

Going out the door. You put on your shoes, your coat, then left. What’s there to think about?

You holler to the kids that you’re leaving. NOW! Get your coat on, get your shoes on. Find one kid’s shoes, find the other kid’s coat. Argue that it’s cold outside and they need to wear winter coats, not spring coats. Wait while someone runs to the bathroom to pee. Wait while one of them tries to zip their coat by themselves. God forbid you speed them up by trying to help. They’d just as soon throw you in the Sarlacc pit than get help.


Going out to eat at a restaurant simply involved choosing where to eat and then going there.

Screw that. Don’t take the heathens out in public if you don’t have to. Hit up the drive through and bring that shit home. And if you decide to brave it and actually go in to a place to eat, you have to make sure it’s child friendly, because you’re kid is so damn picky they won’t eat a hot dog with lines on it.


These lines are sure sign of poison.

Your house was clean.

It looks like Hurricane had a party and invited Earthquake and Tornado to your house and it’ll take a national relief effort to put it all back in order. Toys, clothes, food, spilled something or other, and some kind of blue sticky stuff on the wall are your new decor. You might be worried that TLC will stop by to film the next episode of Hoarders – Buried Alive (By Kids).


Why is that TV tray still standing?

Awake at whatever time o’clock you damn well pleased.

Awake at 1 am because your kid kicked the covers off and is now cold. Up at 2:30 because your kid woke up for no apparent reason and wants you. Up again at 4 because their diaper/pull-up/underwear leaked. It’s okay, though, you’ve mastered changing the sheets in the dark. Up for good at 6 am because the monster is hungry for breakfast. And without breakfast they turn into the Rancor.


Nothing is broken. Everything works.

Everything is broken. Nothing works. There’s no explanation other than “the force is strong with this one”. Like a well placed proton torpedo, things seem to fall apart all around your kids. Don’t bother getting nice things because it’ll just end up at the curb for the garbage men anyway. Shop at the dollar store.

Enjoy an alcoholic beverage with friends any day of the week.

Like hell. See any of the above for reasons you won’t be doing this any more. You’re wiped from trying to get the kids out the door. You’re ready for bed after the fiasco of trying to take your kids out to eat. Getting up at a million times through the night is impossible when inebriated/hungover. You’re too busy with relief efforts after Hurricane, Earthquake, and Tornado are done playing for the day.

LBF (Life Before Kids) was an ignorant bliss. Sure we were happy. But the joy these part harbingers of hell and part angels of heaven have brought to our lives is immeasurable. Our houses aren’t clean, they’re lived in. Our lives are no long our own. But we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Most of the time.