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Silly me, how could I expect my teenager to be on board with this?
I am soooo sorry for the delay on a new post. Silly me, I thought my teenager didn't care what the hell I did or said.
It turns out, he does.
Me: Hey, buddy! I am going to start my blog up again and make YouTube videos. Fun, right?
Teenager: **Looks up. Blinks. No words. Goes back to his game.**
Me: I need your help with videos!
Teenager: **Finally looks up from his game** Wait. You're doing that mom blog thing again about you and dad sucking at parenting?
(That was the fastest and easiest way to explain the blog to a then eight-year-old, and it stuck.)
Me: Yes! That!
Teenager: Mom, no. That's dumb. And you can't talk about me, my friends will read it.
Me: Yeah, that would require you and your friends to not only find the blog online but also read the posts.
Teenager: You said YouTube too? Are you trying to ruin my life?
I pause: I totally didn't expect him to care. Instantly, I regret saying anything. Of course, he would think it's a dumb idea. He thinks every idea I've had since he turned 12 was dumb.
Teenager: What are you going to write about me? It can't be embarrassing. I need to see it first. Same with videos.
Me: Deal!
Fast forward to my first post talking about how EVERY time I walk past my child during the summer, he asks for something to eat. I feel like I spend half my day feeding my child and the other half shopping for food! So. Not. Cool.
Y'all, I'm here to tell you, a "growing boy" eats non-freaking-stop. Like, an absurd amount of food!
In all seriousness, with the exorbitant cost of groceries today, I thank my lucky stars I only have one child to feed! My heart goes out to every parent struggling to keep up with the constantly increasing cost of living. I see you. It sucks.
I finish the post about me essentially spending summer 2025 as a private chef to a growing 5'10" thirteen-year-old and email it too him to read.
Teenager: **His bedroom door flys open** WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?
Me: I am not calling you fat! I am talking more about how hard it is to keep up with grocery shopping and meals during the summer.
Teen: No, you are calling me a fatty McFatFat. You can't post that. Riz killer.
Me: GHAAAAAA. Fine.
Next post: We live like feral animals during the summer. It's seriously IMPOSSIBLE to keep the house clean during the summer. There are shoes EVERYWHERE. Socks in every corner. Towels at the door. Sunblock on the floor.
So, until September, I'll be inviting in my home by saying: Welcome to my shithole.
I've resigned to the fact that we will be feral af until the fall when we are back on a normal routine. Sorry, not sorry.
News Flash: This post, too, did not pass the teen-test.
Teenager: You can't tell people we live like dirty animals! Riz killer.
Me: What can I talk about?
Teenager: Your garden.
Fear not, I will figure out a way to revive this beautiful space, and I'm no longer worried about grumpy teenager backlash. Besides, from what I understand from friends with older teens, my son is going to be perpetually annoyed by my ideas and even presence until he is 18 years old, so I might as well give him a good reason for it!
Inspired by Liam and Miley: The So Not Right Sh*t My Australian Husband and I Do To Each Other.
If you follow any social media channel at all then you know, recently, Liam Hemsworth has been posting videos of himself scaring Miley Cyrus. It's so bad, but for me, so relatable. In other words, my Australian husband and I do the evilest shit to each other, too! Of course, it’s all in good fun. But, sometimes, only one of us is having fun.
In order from when we met, some of the shittiest things we’ve done to each other:
Green Apple Splatters
While I certainly love a good Pale Ale, I also like fruity drinks. One of the first fruity drinks I had in Australia was a green apple flavored malt-ish beverage. Adam told me they were called, Green Apple Splatters. So the next time we went grocery shopping, while we were checking out he told me to go over to the liquor store, (he actually called it a Bottle Shop because that’s what a liquor store is called in Australia) to get my new favorite, green apple splatters.
When the bottle shop attendant asked me what I wanted, I said, "Green Apple Splatters." She looked at me confused. I told her that they were green apple flavored in bottles. She walked me over to the beer section, and the two of us started looking for green apple splatters. Within a minute, Adam walks up, and I tell him we can’t find them. He breaks out into a fit of laughter, then tells the girl exactly what it is that I’m looking for. She then breaks out into a fit of laughter.
I look at him. Now I’m the one confused. He says, "We call them green apple splatters because the next morning you splatter the toilet bowl when they run through you."
Payback, my first Thanksgiving in Australia.
Two days before my first Thanksgiving in Australia, while having dinner with my mother-in-law and two brothers-in-law, Adam says, "We want to do something special for you for Thanksgiving. How do you celebrate? What can we do to make it just like home?"
I told him that in America we dress up as Cowboys, Indians, and Europeans and have a huge battle in the backyard. Whoever loses has to do the dishes. They asked me questions, and I answered them to my best of lying abilities. The next day, when I was bombarded by the family with what they were going to wear, how they were going to battle, I came clean. I let everybody know it was bullshit. We ended up going to an American-style restaurant and ate a ton of french fries and fried chicken. #GoodTimes
His payback, Sea Same Chicken
Something that really amazed me living in Australia was that people thought American accents were "melodic and beautiful." They love to hear me talk. I once had two kids stare at me like I was an alien because they’ve “never met an American in real life.”
So one night, shortly after meeting my husband’s best friends, Mr. J and Mr. D, we had a little get together and decided to order Chinese takeaway. My husband insisted that I do the ordering because they would love to hear an American. I went right along with it.
They gave me the order, which included sesame chicken. Except, Adam swore up-and-down it was called, SEA SAME chicken. His damn friends agreed. Y’all, I goddamn ordered the SEA SAME chicken. Needless to say, he and his mates full-on pissed themselves laughing.
My payback, fireflies.
When I brought Adam back to the States for the second time, it was mid-June. I had a third-floor walk-up with a really nice balcony overlooking a park. Not long after we arrived back, I hear him yell out, "Baby! Come here!" I could tell by the tone of his voice something was not right. I run out to join him on the balcony when he points out to mid-air and says, "Did you see that?"
I have no idea what he’s pointing at. A few seconds later, a firefly blinks right in between us. He points at it and yells out, "That! That bug just lit up!"
I said, "Oh yeah, they are government bugs. They take photos of us periodically."
Mortified, he runs inside and sits down at his computer. A few minutes later I hear him yell out, "They're bloody fireflies."
All of these things happened within the first two years of us being together. We’ve been together 10 years, and we still strive to shock the shit out of each other, trick, or scare each other every chance we get. How else are we supposed to keep it interesting?
Bottom line: Australians are a breed their own, and I’m so thankful that I get to call one my husband.
Oh! And for those of you shocked by Miley Cyrus saying, "C*NT," in Australia it's the equivalent of "bitch" in the states. Aussies will completely disarm an American of the word in two weeks or less.
In order from when we met, some of the shittiest things we’ve done to each other:
Green Apple Splatters
While I certainly love a good Pale Ale, I also like fruity drinks. One of the first fruity drinks I had in Australia was a green apple flavored malt-ish beverage. Adam told me they were called, Green Apple Splatters. So the next time we went grocery shopping, while we were checking out he told me to go over to the liquor store, (he actually called it a Bottle Shop because that’s what a liquor store is called in Australia) to get my new favorite, green apple splatters.
When the bottle shop attendant asked me what I wanted, I said, "Green Apple Splatters." She looked at me confused. I told her that they were green apple flavored in bottles. She walked me over to the beer section, and the two of us started looking for green apple splatters. Within a minute, Adam walks up, and I tell him we can’t find them. He breaks out into a fit of laughter, then tells the girl exactly what it is that I’m looking for. She then breaks out into a fit of laughter.
I look at him. Now I’m the one confused. He says, "We call them green apple splatters because the next morning you splatter the toilet bowl when they run through you."
Payback, my first Thanksgiving in Australia.
Two days before my first Thanksgiving in Australia, while having dinner with my mother-in-law and two brothers-in-law, Adam says, "We want to do something special for you for Thanksgiving. How do you celebrate? What can we do to make it just like home?"
I told him that in America we dress up as Cowboys, Indians, and Europeans and have a huge battle in the backyard. Whoever loses has to do the dishes. They asked me questions, and I answered them to my best of lying abilities. The next day, when I was bombarded by the family with what they were going to wear, how they were going to battle, I came clean. I let everybody know it was bullshit. We ended up going to an American-style restaurant and ate a ton of french fries and fried chicken. #GoodTimes
His payback, Sea Same Chicken
Something that really amazed me living in Australia was that people thought American accents were "melodic and beautiful." They love to hear me talk. I once had two kids stare at me like I was an alien because they’ve “never met an American in real life.”
So one night, shortly after meeting my husband’s best friends, Mr. J and Mr. D, we had a little get together and decided to order Chinese takeaway. My husband insisted that I do the ordering because they would love to hear an American. I went right along with it.
They gave me the order, which included sesame chicken. Except, Adam swore up-and-down it was called, SEA SAME chicken. His damn friends agreed. Y’all, I goddamn ordered the SEA SAME chicken. Needless to say, he and his mates full-on pissed themselves laughing.
My payback, fireflies.
When I brought Adam back to the States for the second time, it was mid-June. I had a third-floor walk-up with a really nice balcony overlooking a park. Not long after we arrived back, I hear him yell out, "Baby! Come here!" I could tell by the tone of his voice something was not right. I run out to join him on the balcony when he points out to mid-air and says, "Did you see that?"
I have no idea what he’s pointing at. A few seconds later, a firefly blinks right in between us. He points at it and yells out, "That! That bug just lit up!"
I said, "Oh yeah, they are government bugs. They take photos of us periodically."
Mortified, he runs inside and sits down at his computer. A few minutes later I hear him yell out, "They're bloody fireflies."
All of these things happened within the first two years of us being together. We’ve been together 10 years, and we still strive to shock the shit out of each other, trick, or scare each other every chance we get. How else are we supposed to keep it interesting?
Bottom line: Australians are a breed their own, and I’m so thankful that I get to call one my husband.
4 Gun Reform Laws That Won't Screw With Your 2nd Amendment Right
Over the years, I've shied away from expressing my concerns about gun laws and mass murders. I live in Kentucky, I'm well aware of how passionate people are about their 227-year-old second amendment right to bear arms. I personally choose not to have guns in my house but understand it's my neighbor's right to own one, and while I'm not cool with it, I get it.
Yesterday, I wrote about how riddled with fear I was to send my son to school. I'm in Kentucky, I haven't finished grieving over the Marshall County High massacre, so to have another shooting only minutes from where I was born and raised, shook me to the core. I no longer feel safe sending my son to school. I'm gutted over all of this. Broken.
I had no idea sharing my feelings would result in so many attacks from internet trolls, friends and family. It's blatantly clear, there are people out there who would rather blame fake news, mental illness, poor judgment and anything else they can to protect their right to own any damn gun they want-- basically saying, who cares that children are dying, it's our guns that need protection.
Whether there have been eighteen or eight school shootings in 2018, the fact remains, crazy assholes are running around with assault rifles murdering innocent children and adults. Teachers are dying to protect children from a spray of bullets. Parents are terrified to drop their children at school. Fake news can't make that shit up. It's real. And it's shaken me to the core.
Yesterday and today I have been repeatedly asked, "What kind of gun reform would you propose?" I've spent the past thirty-six hours trying to figure out what it would take for me to feel safe sending my child to school. At the risk of losing more NRA loving followers, I'm going to share my hopes for gun reform.
4 Gun Reform Laws That Won't Screw With Your 2nd Amendment Right
1. Psychiatric screening form required as part of the process for purchasing a gun. It’s actually bullshit this is not required since everybody keeps screaming it’s all mental health issues causing these shootings. A mental health evaluation form signed by a doctor should fix that.
2. ALL weapons/accessories that can cause mass murder in under thirty seconds should be banned. There is absolutely no need for a civilian to own one.
3. Create a law that holds parents accountable when their child brings a gun to school--one count of endangerment and negligence for each child and faculty on school premises. I firmly believe this will teach parents to lock up their guns.
4. Every school district sets up an anonymous tip-line where students can call and report concerns. When a child’s name has been mentioned five times they are immediately flagged and the parents are notified.
What would you propose? What would make you feel safe sending your child back to school?
I Was Too Afraid To Send My Son To School Today. #GunControlNow
An armed man walked into Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, pulled the fire alarm, and when the children emerged from their classrooms he opened fire with an AR-15 assault rifle, killing seventeen and wounding fourteen others. That school shooting solidified the eighteenth American school shooting in 2018. That's an average of three school shootings a week in America.
It's clear, American schools are not safe. None of them. Not public, private, elementary, middle or high school, or college for that matter. The statistics on school shootings over the past 20-years are staggering. The number of innocent children murdered at the hands of evil in their classrooms is almost impossible to accept. The inaction of the American government to stop these heinous acts is criminal in its own right.
When I held my son this morning, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and guilt. I'm so thankful my son is alive in my arms. I'm beyond grateful he survived his day at school yesterday because seventeen innocent children did not. The thought of how many children might possibly die today is polarizing.
I was born a few miles from Parkland, Florida and currently an hour away from Marshall County High. These shootings are closing in on me, and I wager to say, every other American.
The USA is averaging three school shootings a week. That's one every sixty hours. HOW CAN THIS BE HAPPENING???
School shootings are the new normal. Mass murders in American schools have become a regular occurrence. As have the political excuses and agendas. I will never understand why assault rifles and any other weapon that can cause mass murder in under thirty seconds are legal to own in America. Tighten gun laws. Hold parents accountable. Not, remove the gun licensing fee, "to make it easier for citizens of Indiana to obtain a firearm." Come on, Indiana, Really?
I live in the land of dreams and hope! How can American schools be so unsafe? I just cannot get my head around that. I'm going to take a few days to calm down and consider my options. Since I work from home, Homeschooling is certainly an option. My son is in Kindergarten, how hard can it be? Surely not nearly as hard as it is for me to send him to school.
If I choose not to send my son to school, in the end, it's my choice. A freind tried to call me crazy for even considering it. She made comments like, "Are you not going to let him out in public anymore too? You know he has a higher likelihood of being molested at a recreational sport, or at a friends house, will you keep him from that too?"
My response: Fuck. off. I will never be sorry for making a decision to keep my son safe. I can go with him to recreational events, but I can't go with him to school. Also, recreational events and public settings are not dealing with 18 shootings in less than six weeks, American schools are.
The bottom line is that I promised my son the day he was born I would love him and protect him, and dammit that's what I intend to do. The warning signs are everywhere. If the government won't do anything to protect my child from this senseless violence, then I will.
The Life-Lesson Sue Grafton Shared With Me When She Passed Away
I was sixteen when I was first introduced to Sue Grafton and Kinsey Millhone. My mother and I were going on a long road trip and rented the audiobooks, A is for Alibi and B is for Burglar, to keep us from going crazy on the road. I loved the storyline instantly. Mid-way throguh the book, Kinsey was my new favorite female heroine.
When we got home from the road trip, I picked up the next three audiobooks, C-D-E, and walked the track by my house listening to the books. I like to listen to thrillers while walking to keep me going. I have a rule that I can only listen to the book when I'm walking.
When I caught up with the last published letter, I would reread favorites in anticipation of the next installment. I always preordered to get it ASAP. Christmas 2008, my sister gave me a signed copy of T is for Trespassing. I friggin' cried like a baby. Sue Grafton wrote my name! It was the greatest gift of all time.
I eventually worked up the nerve to go to the signing for, W is for wasted. When my signing group was called to meet Sue, my heart jumped in my throat. I walked through the door of Carmichael's and lost it when I saw her. I was so fangirl-crazy, it was ridiculous. I cried the entire time. (In my defense I was dealing with some gnarly Postpartum Depression. In fact, the hubs was the driving force behind me going, all three of us went to meet Sue. (I wrote about Here.)
This past August, when I started writing what would become my first official novel, The Devlyn Disguise, I turned to the alphabet series for help, encouragement, scene set-up, character development and anything else I could tap for encouragement. I finished the first draft of the book in November for #NaNoWriMo, and have been editing my ass of since. Two weeks ago, while in edits, I got frustrated, shut off my computer and went to bed, grabbing my copy of, W is for Wasted, off my desk.
That night, mid-December, I was mystified by Sue's prose. I was in awe of her work and desperate to be like her. I decided that night I had to express my gratitude to her for so many years of inspiration, escape, encouragement and her philanthropy in Louisville, because there's that, too.
I spent the next week loosely thinking of my thank you, and how I would send it. I didn't want to publish it for the world, because it was personal, and I didn't want it to get muddied by people thinking it was an act to get help with my book or anything shitty. I wanted, above all, for her to know just how thankful I was for her, her work, and the years of inspiration, on so many different levels, she's afforded me.
Today, December 29, 2017, I was hit with the devastating news, my hearo and idol, Sue Grafton had succumbed to Cancer and passed away. I felt sick. Complete denial. No way I read the News alert correctly. Sue wasn't dead. No. Fucking. Way. Not, yet. She's 77. Amazing. One book away from finishing the Alphabet. Nooooooo. Please. No.
I immediately went to Sue Grafton's Facebook Page, and found this posted only moments earlier:
I left this comment in between tears and sobs.
While sitting at my desk, devastated, I was also thankful. Thankful, that on the evening of December 19th, when I was once again overwhelmed with the need to send my thank yous, I did. I reached out through Facebook messenger, where Sue and I had talked a few times over the years.
The following is the end of the message I sent Sue Grafton nine days before she passed away.
One million, zillion, trillion times over, THANK YOU! You are my, Kenneth Millar. I don’t know if you ever got to thank him for his work and inspiration, but I’m so grateful that I’m able to thank you today.
Thank you.
I pray your holidays are filled with many, many blessings. Looking forward to ZERO!
My deepest admiration,
April
**Kenneth Millar was her idol and early inspiration**
I am so beyond thankful I ceased the moment and sent my letter of love and gratitude. Sue Grafton died knowing how much she meant to me. I will carry that with me forever. Had I not reached out, I can't imagine how angry I'd be at myself. (Even in her passing, she is profoundly affecting my life. I'm telling you, she was amazing. Read her books!)
Please, share your love, gratitude and compassion with the people important to you, today. Tomorrow is not promised. Make 2018 the year of love, compassion and hope.
Whole Families Are Being Jailed. The US Government Is Behind It.
Thank you Amnesty International USA for sponsoring this post.
The current unrest in the world today is terrifying. For this reason, the day I gave birth to my son, I looked down at his perfect little teeny tiny body and into his sweet eyes and promised him I would keep him safe in this crazy world. At all costs. Forever.
With all of my heart and soul and abilities as that child’s mother, I will give him the best life I can, and do anything to keep him safe and protect him. That's what good parents do; sacrifice everything for the safety and well-being of their child. You can’t blame a parent ever for doing that. It’s inherent, almost animal instinct-ish, to protect your young.
But what happens when parents are facing an impossible choice: stay and risk violence or flee to the U.S. and risk ending up behind bars with their children. Sadly, that choice was not only real but, now, the reality for at least 60 parents and kids currently detained in the US, many of them are from Central America, where Amnesty International has documented horrific violence.
FACT: There’s only one place in the U.S. that you can hold a child who’s never committed a violent action or crime for nearly 700 days and that place is Berks County Residential Center in Pennsylvania. As many as 60 fathers, mothers, and children are currently being held in Berks. Their only so-called crime is seeking safety for their families as they flee violence or persecution.
Whether for two weeks or two years, no family should be jailed for seeking safety. They are not criminal! These families have been forced to flee their homes because their lives are under threat and their human rights are being violated. Haven't they been through enough?
All families should be able to live freely in a safe community and make happy memories, enjoying life's simplest things, like Hikes, bikes, sandy shores, and carousels. I feel so blessed. Things so basic to Americans, are anything but for many of our neighbors. I can't help but feel terrible. This could be my family, especially in this crazy world. All we as parents want is to keep our kids safe. These parents aren't criminals, they are, Heros! They saved their children, they deserve to live free and make new memories to replace the horrible memories of violence. It's what I would want.
The children are learning to walk, talk and navigate the world in confinement. How horrible! It's outrageous. Children should be playing at the park, going to school, learning about life, going for stroller rides, breathing fresh air...
Again, I feel so blessed for these things that are so basic, but anything but basic to many, many families.
Amnesty International USA is fighting to ensure that people with asylum claims are given a fair hearing and humane treatment. It’s time for the U.S. government to end the cruel practice of family detention at centers like Berks, once and for all. They must immediately release detained families!
Below is a short video about Berks and what's really going on.
To learn more about Berks and what you can do to help end the innocent detention of families, please visit the Amnesty International Website.
I was selected for this opportunity as a member of CLEVER and the content and opinions expressed here are all my own.
The current unrest in the world today is terrifying. For this reason, the day I gave birth to my son, I looked down at his perfect little teeny tiny body and into his sweet eyes and promised him I would keep him safe in this crazy world. At all costs. Forever.
With all of my heart and soul and abilities as that child’s mother, I will give him the best life I can, and do anything to keep him safe and protect him. That's what good parents do; sacrifice everything for the safety and well-being of their child. You can’t blame a parent ever for doing that. It’s inherent, almost animal instinct-ish, to protect your young.
But what happens when parents are facing an impossible choice: stay and risk violence or flee to the U.S. and risk ending up behind bars with their children. Sadly, that choice was not only real but, now, the reality for at least 60 parents and kids currently detained in the US, many of them are from Central America, where Amnesty International has documented horrific violence.
FACT: There’s only one place in the U.S. that you can hold a child who’s never committed a violent action or crime for nearly 700 days and that place is Berks County Residential Center in Pennsylvania. As many as 60 fathers, mothers, and children are currently being held in Berks. Their only so-called crime is seeking safety for their families as they flee violence or persecution.
Whether for two weeks or two years, no family should be jailed for seeking safety. They are not criminal! These families have been forced to flee their homes because their lives are under threat and their human rights are being violated. Haven't they been through enough?
All families should be able to live freely in a safe community and make happy memories, enjoying life's simplest things, like Hikes, bikes, sandy shores, and carousels. I feel so blessed. Things so basic to Americans, are anything but for many of our neighbors. I can't help but feel terrible. This could be my family, especially in this crazy world. All we as parents want is to keep our kids safe. These parents aren't criminals, they are, Heros! They saved their children, they deserve to live free and make new memories to replace the horrible memories of violence. It's what I would want.
Again, I feel so blessed for these things that are so basic, but anything but basic to many, many families.
Amnesty International USA is fighting to ensure that people with asylum claims are given a fair hearing and humane treatment. It’s time for the U.S. government to end the cruel practice of family detention at centers like Berks, once and for all. They must immediately release detained families!
Below is a short video about Berks and what's really going on.
To learn more about Berks and what you can do to help end the innocent detention of families, please visit the Amnesty International Website.
I was selected for this opportunity as a member of CLEVER and the content and opinions expressed here are all my own.
Please, Do Not Do This To A Child #NAPCAN
The current climate of the world today is, at best, volatile. There is so much hate, anger, killing, and sadness. Worst of all, every second is broadcast through the media 24/7. People are talking in grocery store checkout lines about death tolls rising. Parents on playgrounds are expressing their disgust with a teacher or another parent, or worse, a child. Teenagers are repeating their parents and peers opinions about world politics, presidents, terrorism, the neighbors.
Anymore, it's hard to escape the hate and gossip. This is never more true for children, who are stuck at the feet of an adult or peer.
Children See, Children, Do. Make YOUR Influence Positive. PLEASE, do not do this to a child. They are our future, fill them with love, not hate.
I beg you, let children be children for as long as possible. Censor their exposure to hate and horrible images. This world is definitely a big shitty place at times, but there is no reason for a child to know it. And trust me, children know WAY more than their given credit for. They also pick up on EVERYTHING. It's how they learn and navigate this big world. Unfortunately, they don't have a filter or self-censor to protect their mind, body and soul from the horrible things they shouldn't know about, yet.
To drive home my point below is a very dark PSA that at one time was rumored to be banned due to its very blunt nature. It wasn't. It's just that in-your-face honest.
Australia’s National Association for Prevention of Child Abuse and Neglect, NAPCAN, created this profound and thought provoking 90-second public service announcement, Children See, Children Do, to show the impact your behavior has on a child.
Australia’s National Association for Prevention of Child Abuse and Neglect, NAPCAN, created this profound and thought provoking 90-second public service announcement, Children See, Children Do, to show the impact your behavior has on a child.
WARNING: The video starts out innocent enough with a child mimicking an adult walking through a town square talking on a mobile phone, but then the behaviors copied gradually intensify to smoking, racism, animal neglect and even domestic violence. This is not easy to watch, but it will change you.
Children See, Children, Do. Make YOUR Influence Positive. PLEASE, do not do this to a child. They are our future, fill them with love, not hate.
PLEASE SHARE THIS POST!
**I received exclusive rights from NAPCAN to use this video on my blog. The Australian government organization, Children’s Guardian was present during filming to ensure children were not exposed to harm in any way. The domestic violence scenes had adults and children filmed separately, then placed together in postproduction. The scene with the child smoking, the cigarette and smoke were added to her shot in post production.
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To Elf, Or Not To Elf. THAT Is The Christmas Question
I'm so on the fence about getting an Elf.
Do I let him in?
Or, slam the door in his face?
Every mother I know swears by The Elf On The Shelf, Christopher Elf, or some other thing they use to instill fear of a pissed-off Santa. Or basically, a deferral of blame for being an Asshole parent for a month.
What I don't get is how can this little elf be so effective at getting a child to behave?
How can an elf bouncing around the house, multiple times a day, playing the odd prank, turn my kid into a perfect little Christmas Child?
I know moms who have had their elf for seven years.
Seven.
FYI: The word on the street is that once you let the elf in, you can't shut it out the next year. That elf becomes a Holiday tradition until your child stops buying into it.
Which, in my case with a four-year-old, that Elf could become a fixture for eight years!
Oh. Hell. No.
I don't want to deal with the multiple daily moves and random pranks. It sounds tedious.
FTD thinks it "could be fun."
My nephews, who LOVE their Christopher Elf, keep asking where our elf is. They are freaked out about my tree being up, but no elf has arrived. I'm running out of confused looks and crap excuses.
Is the Elf becoming standard now? Does everyone, but me, have an Elf?
Damn Elf.
How much does it suck to know in a two weeks when the elf goes back to Elfland, your perfect little Christmas angel is going to turn back into a heathen shit? Why not have a year long elf?
Even though I'm leaning towards skipping the elf this year, I'd love to know what you think. Is the elf really improving your child's behavior? It is really worth the trouble and mess?
