I got the best Christmas present ever 16 years ago. My daughter

 I was pretty zen considering I hadn't gotten any medicine yet. The hat says "I believe"

To Bailey from her Mom:

I'll start at the beginning. Well not all the way at the beginning because that involves the type of conversation that is inappropriate.
But this is the thing I can tell you. The way I remember it the nightyou first arrived in this time and space there was the most amazing moon. I've never seen one like it before or after. Your Dad and I had been in Sanford, Fla., just outside of Orlando and we were heading home as the moon was coming up. And on the flat landscape somehow the moon looked epic, like it was really rising out of the road ahead of us. It was perfect and orange and red andround and kind of breathtaking.
I had some trouble with keeping you around early on. But that is a story for another day.

I loved growing you even though I threw up at least once a day.

Somebody told me that when a baby has a lot of hair it can mess with your digestion. You had a lot of hair.
A few months in I had a dream about the baby I was going to have. I'm not sure yet even if I knew you were a girl. But I had a dream of a little girl with a bouncy head of hair in a field of flowers. Her
hair was kind of reddish and she had the chubbiest of cheeks and she wasn't smiling but looking at me like she knew me and that she would be heading my way.

When you were about three we were at the kite festival. You were running up and down the hill in your Tweetie buttoveralls with your curls bouncing in the sun and you turned around and looked at me.......and your face was the same as the face I had seenbefore you were born. I struck me then, like it has a hundred times since you've been mine, we were meant to find each other.
So back to the day at hand. It was Dec. 23. I was ready to have a baby. Because, as you know, I am a woman who likes to have deadlines and, baby, we were on a deadline. You were due Dec. 23 and I felt pretty strongly that you should arrive. I was huge and uncomfortable and ready to have you occupy your own space in this world. I had been reading all the things you could do to promote labor. I had actually written a story about the pine nut and gorgonzola salad at a restaurant in Winter Park

that women swore helped get their labor going. (Years later I read something about the chemical properties of pine nuts actually do mimic some labor hormones so, who knew?)
Anyway I had the salad. I took walks. I was shopping at Christmas time
in a crowded chi-chi shopping place and I was enormously pregnant so you can imagine how much I was enoying that. Oh, did I mention I had on a red and white stripped candy-like shirt and a baseball
cap/elf hat that said "I believe".
I ran into an old boss as I was wobbling through one of the stores. His name was Mike Bales. He had laid me off. But had done me a kindness in doing so. I'm not sure I was aware of that at the time. We
had some idle chit-chat in a crowded store. I joked at the time that Mike Bales scared me into labor.
I was prepared. There was a bag packed, movies included: Clueless (because it is my favorite movie ever) and It’s a Wonderful Life (because George, Mary, Bailey).

We had asked our friend Jan to come along to take some pictures and keep us company.

I had on a red and white candy cane stripped shirt and a elf-inspired baseball cap that said I believe.

We had been to the birthing class. To be honest, I had a feeling that your Dad wasn't going to be all that helpful. (Turned out I was right) Jan was a no-nonsense kind of person when the situation called for it so I knew she would be stalwart.
But, here is something that is a little surprising, I was not really well versed on exactly what would happen. I knew I would be giving birth and there would be breathing and epidural but that's kind of
where it ended. I didn't know about drugs or hormones or how many centimeters you needed to be dilated. I guess I figured my body would just make it work. More likely I was afraid I wouldn't do it right so there was no point in studying for this particular test.
I don't remember the contractions being that bad but when they became about five minutes apart we went to the hospital.
They wanted us to walk. So we did.

It was, you know, late Dec. 23 so most of the hospital was empty plus there was renovation going on so there were entire hallways with no one around. We walked and walked and walked. I had my Birkenstocks on and I was, you know, hugely pregnant so I kind of rolled along. It was likely a very slow procession. (Still in candy cane shirt and hat.)
At one point I decided to sing. It seems to me that I sang a lot. One song went something like this, except to the tune of Jingle Bells: "Giving birth, giving birth, it's time to give birth. We’re here now,
I'm big like a cow, It's time to give birth, Yeah!"
When we came close to wings where there were people, I am sure 1) People thought we drunken idiots. 2) They really wished I couldn't sing so loud.
Eventually my water broke or something happened and the nurses were suddenly not so keen on my walking and they made me get in bed and they strapped this belt around my middle that told them exactly what my contractions were doing. I didn't know until maybe 11 years later
when we were talking to Dr. Meinke about your calves, that they were in a rush because they were worried you might swallow meconium and that you were in distress. And that could have been bad.
But, fortunately, I had not done my homework so I just thought ­-- Ok...I'll lay down now.
Contractions were not that bad. They did go on for like, 11 hours. I kind of got use to them. Jan's boyfriend at the time was there and he had an annoying habit of looking at the monitor and announcing with each contraction that this one was going to be an especially bad one.
Thank you Jan's douche bag boyfriend.
But mostly, I said "ouch". Yep, "ouch". No screaming. Surprisingly, no
cussing. Just "ouch."
Just like when I threw up everyday and I said that it was for a good cause, I told myself the same. This was for a really good cause. So, "ouch."
When the doctor showed up, finally, he had on the same hat that I did. Although I had never seen him before and don't recall his name, I believe that was kind of meant to be.
They kept telling me how I needed to stay really still for the epidural. I had been saying ouch for 10 hours and they told me the epidural would make that stop so I was damn skinny going to be still.
No problem.
Then I was a little giddy on medicine, ok, a lot giddy on medicine. I decided I wasn't going to be able to do this thing. Yes, I was going to be the first woman in the history of healthy woman in actual labor with a healthy baby who would somehow mange to not be able to give birth. I somehow decided I was just incapable of it so.....I wanted to go home.

Mr. Tree which I had won by stuffing entries into a give away box at a local store was waiting for me at home. 
I tried my best to go home. I tried to be my most charming. I promised and purred that I lived just so close and that I would come right back. It would be finnneee.....why not just let me go home for, like,
a sec? No worries. I'll come back.
I tried and tried to convince everyone to let me go home and no one would. They wanted me to rest but I kept wanting to talk to your Dad so I could convince him to let me go home. They made him leave the room so I would sleep.
So what happened when you finally decided to come?

I my memory, it was like there was stadium seating in the place. Jan was there. Your dad was there.
Your Nana and Pop were there. My friend Cheri was there. Jan's boyfriend was there. Jan. Your Dad. There were two teams of nurses because they were worried about you although they didn't tell me that.
The only time I lost my cool was when they were telling me to push.
The whole room was kind of yelling at me. It was suppose to be encouraging but I couldn't believe that they didn't understand that I kind of needed to concentrate.

Pushing out a human, here!
I snapped a little: Only one person can tell me what to do.
And there you were. Your Dad swears It’s A Wonderful Life was playing on the television. (That is back in the day of VHS.)

Anyway. You were beautiful.

I felt in an instant that you were mine. I could feel your heart beat in sync with mine and I never knew I could love anything as much as I loved you.
They put you in what looked like a plastic bin away from me and told me to rest. But every time you made a sound I would sit up and look in your direction, even though I was exhausted and still pretty high. I knew I had to help you if you needed me.
When we got to our room it was just us. Everybody left. Now it was Christmas Eve. There wasn't even hardly a staff. The nurses didn't answer the call button. There was a place for your dad to sleep but he went home.
So it was me and you and they told me not to keep you in the bed with me but I did for awhile. When I put you back in your plastic bin I didn't want you to feel lonely so I had a yarn Santa face that had
been on a present and I taped so you could see it and have something interesting to take in.....although looking back, you know, the whole world was new to you so it was probably a little bit of overkill.
Still, my sweet baby girl, it was the most amazing day of my life. My best day ever, easily. And you are truly the best Christmas present I have ever had.

(Although, when you become a successful grown up, I hear diamond
earrings are awfully nice :)

Elf on the Shelf Moms: You Win.

I hate Elf on the Shelf.

I know I am not alone.   

The Elf itself is kind of retro-50s era Connecticut-Christmas cute. I'm not mad about that. I'm not even opposed to hiding the Elf around the house. I do think it's adding a layer of work to a holiday already filled with work. 

But, if it makes a kiddo happy, well OK.

No, I hate it because this new "holiday tradition" has become a a blunt object used in the ongoing Mommy Wars by a certain segment of mothers, some Menopausal some not, who feel compelled to show the rest of us, the majority of us, how fabulous and thoughtful they are because THEY really, really love their children so no extra step is too extreme. 

Their zealous tending and sharing, and sharing and tending, make me feel like I am just not trying hard enough.

 Not trying enough because I have a demanding 40-hour a week plus full time job.

Not trying hard enough because I am trying to do somethings for myself after 16 very kid-focused years. 

Not trying hard enough because I don't create flour "snowball" fights in my kitchen with a doll just so I can clean it up. 

The source of my hatred is two fold. 

One: Elf mission creep.

 There is the Elf ($30)

 An ever-growing assortment of Elf on the Shelf accessories. 

A push to have multiple elves especially if you have multiple children. 

You might need two because your Elf is lonely and needs a companion. 

Elf on the Shelf is now for birthdays.

I'm not sure what that Elf is counting down, or who Elf is reporting back to unless Santa is also engaged in mission creep and is taking over birthdays. 

Reason Two for Hating Elf  On the Shelf:
The elaborate scenarios that people, and by people I mean Moms.
 create for Elf.

Although the real moms I know who have drank the Elf Kool Aid generally seem to remember the need for a new location at 3 a.m. just before packing lunches and have only the engery to throw the Elf in the fridge where he will be found in the later morning clinging to a bottle of orange juice or fling him onto a high shelf in the den.

Other Moms, the Professional Internet Moms, go all out. They make lists and post them. They have a plan. They are having fun, damn it, and seem to say "look at all the thought I put into this lighthearted venture. Read my list! I rock being a mother and you, well, where is your list??"

But even Moms With A Plan don't grate on my nerves as much as Moms Who Make a Mess. I don't understand at all the Moms who throw flour all over their kitchen to show their Elf had a food fight. Or, below, bring in what looks like 10 pounds of sand to their entry way so they can clean it up later. 

I completely don't understand anyone who would shave their husband's head just to inspire a little extra Christmas magic.  And I hope it is someone's husband because if it isn't it is strange that the  Elf is witness to a crime and we all might be complicit in a felony.

To me it all screams of highly educated, highly creative women who got on the Mommy Track and now focus every bit of themselves --- Every Bit Of Themselves --- into making every moment of childhood magical and managed and fulfilling and, maybe there isn't even anything wrong with that, but they must tell EVERYONE that they are doing it. Better, apparently, than anyone else ever.

I come from the school of thought that sometimes, seriously, kids need to wonder about an imaginary friend and dream of Santa all on their own. My daughter's favorite thing when she was little was to make potions in the bathtub. I bought her bottles and bubbles and bath Crayons but I didn't digitize every wondrous thing that she did. (And some things were wondrous.)

It was the only time on most days that she was ever alone with her own thoughts and when she could do whatever she wanted.

So I will say this, Elf on the Shelf Moms, you win.

I don't have the time or inclination or the extra toilet paper to post a picture about how my Elf, who I imagine would be named Marvin Moonpants, wrapped my entire Christmas tree in Charmin.

But, please, this Menopausal Mom asks that the mission creep stops at birthdays. Let's not see the Elf on the Shelf Fourth of July Count Down Calendar.

Hi I'm Mary. I'm addicted to Hallmark Holiday movies.

My name is Mary. I'm addicted to Hallmark Holiday Movies.
I don't know why they call them holiday movies because there is only one holiday. Christmas. There is no Hanukah on the Hallmark channel. There is no Kwanza.
There is only Christmas. G-rated. Sugar-cookie sweet Christmas.
In November and December the Hallmark channel is filled with women named Holly and men with strong jaw lines who randomly come into their lives.
Last night a Holly met a Cowboy on a bus!
I like that the middle-aged moms in Hallmark movies are all slightly wacky and wise. They are played by character actors who just seem happy to  be working. The dads are all thoughtful and encouraging. They always call the Hollys "my little girl" and "sweetheart" and tell them how they will find the right man at the right time.
And they do.
Every single time.
Usually there are two men who want to marry the Holly.
You can tell the bad guys right away because their Christmas trees are all white and artificial. They also wear ties.
The good guys are often slightly scruffy, they like real Christmas trees and wear flannel. (And sometimes scarves, but in a manly way.) They also tend to have one of three jobs. Chef. Gardener. Carpenter. I think the last is a nod to chosen profession of the Lord Jesus Christ. People don't talk about Jesus directly in the Hallmark movies but his presence is implied.
There are a lot of weddings on the Hallmark Channel at Christmas.
They usually happen just days after the couple has a meet cute of some sort that could totally happen in the real world.
The other day a man showed up at a Holly's front door with a bow on his chest and stuff to make pancakes. Of course she let him in. Who wouldn't?


How, in 50 years, has a man never showed up at my door with a bow and breakfast fixings?
You also never know who is going to show up in a Hallmark movie. Ed Asner and Charles Durning have both been Santa Claus.
Martin Mull played the dad to the Holly who met the Cowboy on the bus. Henry Winkler. Roger Moore. Catherine Bell. Tonight I am looking forward to a movie with Harry Connick, Jr. Willie Nelson, Connie Britton and Lyle Lovett.  I get genuinely happy at the thought of it. I don't know but I am hoping Willie will be a Magic Elf or Santa in disguise. (He was Santa in disguise but he was also an angel. A twofer!)
Hallmark movies are really brilliant for what doesn't happen in them.
There are no divorces. There are no layoffs. There is no dust or fruit flies at the office.
Sometimes there are homeless people but only so the Hollys and the Carpenters can do volunteer work down at the shelter and realized as they are serving up Christmas gravy that they really, truly, madly in love.
In fact, on the Hallmark Channel, no one ever really seems to have to work unless they are a woman who is too focused on her career and misses her child's school play. But, if that's the case, an Elf or Santa or an Angel will steer her into the Christmas light and she will be redeemed. She will also appear for the first time in a soft pastel sweater to indicate she really is not a ball-busting executive but a nurturing Mom who momentarily lost her way. She will also probably wear a slouchy knit hat and look casual yet fabulous.
And that's that.
All tied up neat and tidy.
I find them an excellent counterpoint to knitting.
And, so, I will admit it. I'm addicted to Hallmark movies. It is sweet pablum for my brain. It is mashed potatoes with butter after a stressful week. It is a Peppermint Mocha from Starbucks.
It's a happy, happy place that I'm happy to visit. Admit it? You've gone there too. That's why they keep making them.
(If you enjoyed this or laughed a little or saw yourself...please comment. We would appreciate it. It's weird to share yourself with the world this way but we are having a blast. It would be awesome to have some feedback. Plus, there is a loooonnng season of Hallmark movies to come. There is one this week with Cougar Town's Josh Hopkins! Thanks for visiting MMofKY. It's not too much to say.....we kinda love you.)