Always Be Closing

It's been a while since I've seen the movie Glengarry Glen Ross, but I do remember one important piece of advice - Always Be Closing.

Our family is going to The Nutcracker this month and mom and dad are excited to share this holiday favorite with our kids. The Pacific Northwest Ballet's production is particularly exciting because the sets are done by Maurice Sendak. I haven't been in years, not since having kids, and I am giddy with excitement to see this Christmas tale again.

Not so much excitement for our boy Turbo. Emphasis on boy.

When we told Turbo we were going to The Nutcracker ballet, I think all he heard was blah-blah-blah ballet, because his only comment was, "Yuck. I don't like girl stuff." And he wrinkled his nose and sneered a little and looked at us like we were nuts.

Then Turbo got invited to a birthday party, which happened to be at the same time as The Nutcracker. When we told Turbo that he couldn't go to his pal's party because we were going to be at the ballet, he reminded us again about his strong dislike for this girl stuff. And he through in some frantic eyebrow maneuvers for good measure.

Last night I took a different approach. I put on my sales and marketing hat and went to work.

Me: "Turbo, we're getting our Christmas tree on Sunday."

Turbo: "Yeah!"

Me: "And then we're going to The Nutcracker in Seattle."

Turbo: "Mom, I already told you. I don't like that girl stuff."

Me: "You might be surprised. Did you know there are bad guys with swords? There is a Rat King who fights some soldiers and maybe some of them even die."

Intrigued eyebrows shot up.

Then Turbo and I watched a YouTube clip of the Rat King fighting with his swords. And Turbo saw what a ballet really was - he pretty much had the wrong idea, whatever that was. I boiled it down to this, "It's people dancing to music with no words and they tell a story. Some of the stories are for girls and some of the stories are something everybody could like."

Sold. Always Be Closing. ABC.

Here is how mom and dad are selling The Nutcracker to our very different children:

Selling ballet to a 5 year old boy

Selling ballet to a girl

Lipsie Returns

She's baaaack!

Last year we started doing the Elf on the Shelf thing with great success for our then 4 year old. This year both kids, now 3 and 5, are totally into the whole experience. Shrieks of delight pepper our quiet morning home each morning as Lipsie's new location is discovered.

Each morning they run downstairs to find Lipsie - still love this name that Turbo chose last year! - and Turbo usually finds he first and then wakes a bleary-eyed-but-smiling Smiley to "let" her find Lipsie too. Turbo is not great at secrets, but, then, what kid is?

Here is Lipsie on day one - with a healthy reminder to mom and dad to get rid of this old plant that decorates a high, forgotten shelf in the kitchen. Three days in and the plant is still there. Yeah, we have other priorities around these parts.

Hey, Lipsie, can your Christmas magic bring that plant back to life?

Cross-cross applesauce in a partially finished Lego toy

Reminding us to wear warm hats on this 20-degree days

Creating New Traditions

I love Christmas.

My childhood Christmases were filled with homemade ornaments, garlands of freshly made popcorn strung with cranberries, and cold boot-wearing treks through snow to chop down our own trees.

And, no, I did not grow up in a Normal Rockwell painting. But it was pretty great, if you ask me.

For the memories of Christmas that I love, I want to repeat all of these treasured details with my own kids and yet I also recognize the value of creating our own traditions.

We live in a neighborhood with lots and lots of houses decorated with lots and lots of Christmas lights. There is also a plethora of lit-up woodland creatures, various snowmen (and snow-women and snow-children), and countless Santas... Construction Santa, Chimney Santa, Sleigh Santa, Shovel Santa, Santa-and-His-Reindeer Santa, Climb-in-Your-Window Santa (erm, the non-creepy kind).

Driving home from the kids' school last night I look at left instead of a right. Turbo, ever my alert observer, said, "Hey. This isn't the way home." To which I quipped, "No s***, Sherlock."

Kidding! Sheesh, I hope you didn't believe me.

To which I replied, "That's right, honey. I thought we'd go see some Christmas light before we go home."

Both Turbo and Smiley squealed with delight at the first house, which, by design of my genius left-instead-of-right move, brought us to one of those thoroughly decorated homes where the owners probably need eye masks to block out the light while sleeping. And I squealed too. I love these crazy decorations. Or, as Smiley said, "Oh, mom! Yook at all dose decowations!"

Sample house. Not actual size or neighborhood. 

I told the kids that we'd go find new Christmas decowations every night after school. We shook hands to make it official.

One day later... on tonight's drive home I was feeling a bit tired from a long day at work and considered driving straight home. Maybe the kids won't remember, said the little voice in my head.

Turbo, "Mom, remember how you said we were going to look at Christmas lights every day? Take a left, mom."

And I took a right, just to show him who is boss, and drove around a few loops near our house and both Turbo and Smiley provided a play-by-play of the lights outside of their respective windows - ya know, in case I wasn't looking at the same set of lights.

I think I'm going to like this new tradition.

Lipsie the Elf

Here's a question: have you ever heard of the Elf on the Shelf? Yeah, me neither... at least not before about five weeks ago.

In late November I was chatting with some friends on Facebook about Christmas traditions and one women mentioned this elf thing and being curious I googled it and low and behold this thing is everywhere. I had never heard of it before and now I see, hear, and spot these little elves all over the place. It's very, very Shrodinger - maybe we should have named the elf Shr odinger. Or cat. Cat would have been a nice name too.

I'm nursing the end of a terrible cold and it's getting late so I'll cut to the chase. The kids get to name the elf, and I love, love, love the name that Turbo came up with for this little lady: Lipsie. When I told Turbo that it was our job to name our elf, he didn't hesitate. It was like, it was her name, not that he gave the name to her. I'm famous amongst my friends for naming things, so it fills my heart with pride that the apple didn't fall far from this tree. :)

It is the job of the parents to move Lipsie into a new location each evening, or at least before the kids get up (more on that later) - under the guise that the elf flies back to Santa each night to report on the good and bad choices made by our children. If she can fly, it would, of course, make complete sense that she would settle her little elf butt in a new place each night. Let me just note here that moving the elf has not been an easy task to track.

It's December and we're busy and there have been mornings when I mutter obscenities under my breath and stumble downstairs just ahead of my kids to move the elf. Thank goodness no tiny Lego pieces have been in my path or the obscenities would have been loud enough for all to hear, including my kids, and including Lipsie, who undoubtedly would have made a special day-time flight up to the North Pole to tattle on this new member of the Naughty List. But, so far so good, and I have my husband to thank for that.

In fact, my husband is way, waaaay into this. I have come downstairs some mornings and can't find the darn elf and wonder if she fell to the floor in the middle of the night and as my blurry morning brain takes in the room, my eagle-eyed son shrieks, "There's Lipsie! I see her!" as he points to some new location that I clearly couldn't reach, being five-foot-two-ish... or maybe she can fly!

So to give you an idea of the creative locales, here is a comparison. I hope to post more photos of all the locations, but here, at least, is a starter set:

Lipsie, day one: mom places her atop stereo. Rather dull, really.

Lipsie, day 20: dad has her riding Bullseye (only because she wouldn't fit on a giant dinosaur, but I bet he gets the dinosaur to work tomorrow night)

I told Turbo the other night that Lipsie will go to live with Santa at the North Pole again on Christmas Eve and that we won't see her again for awhile. He was visibly upset. Good thing Santa is bringing him a Spider-Man action figure. That'll push the memories of a little girl elf to the very bottom of his 'things to worry about' shelf.

Merry (almost) Christmas!