The 9th Day of Christmas: The Best Cut-out Cookies

For as long as I can remember, my mom and I made the yummiest Christmas cut-out cookies year after year. We used the same reindeer, snowman, bell, and Christmas tree cookie cutters every time. We colored and mixed the icing ourselves, coordinating predictable colors with the shapes. The reindeer were always red, the bells yellow, the snowman blue, and the tree, green, of course. I have two favorite ingredients that make these cookies extra special: cream cheese and almond flavoring. When mixing up the batter, mom always made sure to cut an extra chunk of cream cheese off for us to snack on, and the almond flavor prominent in the icing is a taste that I've come to associate only with Christmas.

We merrily iced the cookies to the soundtrack of Burl Ives and other Christmas hits. We dedicated an entire weekend to baking confections we would festively package and deliver to neighbors and friends.

Curious, I asked my mom one year about the origins of the recipe. She wasn't sure. She remembered it being her mother's and believed her grandmother made them as well, meaning it had been passed down at least a couple of generations. As someone (who regretfully) has only begun learning about my family's foreign origins, I was excited to consider that the recipe had come along with my great-grandma's parents from their homeland in Germany. How enchanting to believe, that I would one day be baking those same cookies in my kitchen in Germany! Sitting with my daughter at our table icing away in Germany, maybe just as my great-great-grandmother had done.

I had to know, so I called my grandma.

Who (sounding confused) shared with me that she had found the recipe in a women's magazine and shared it with my mother.

She might as well have told me Santa isn't real.

Then I remembered, Santa isn't real. It's always been moms making the magic.

Maybe one day Olive will be able to tell her children exactly where the cookie recipe came from as they ice snowmen in her kitchen, in a land hopefully not so far away.

So without further adieu, we're sharing our very special recipe with you!

P.S. Despite being our favorite Christmas cookie, these cut-outs can be individualized to your specific cookie cutter and devoured year-round. Hearts for Valentine’s Day, eggs on Easter, or a cute little pumpkin for fall, the sky’s the limit!

Xmas Cut-out Cookies

Dough

• 1 cup (200 g) sugar

• 1/2 tsp (3 g) salt

• 1 cup (227 g) margarine (soft) - I use REAL butter though

• 3 ounces (80 g) cream cheese soft

• 1 tsp (5 mL) almond

• One egg yolk

• 2 3/4 cup (352 g) flour

Mix well and chill for at least 30 minutes. Roll out onto a floured surface. Cut out and place on a cookie sheet. Bake at 375 (190 Celsius) degrees for 7-10 minutes.

Icing

• 2 TB (28 g) butter

• 1/2 (3 mL) tsp almond

• boiling water (not a lot! but you have to guess

• powered sugar (to desired consistency)

• food coloring

The 10th Day of Christmas: German Time with Frau Klein

For the 10th day of Christmas, yours truly is delivering a guest blogger! Our close family friend and Olive's first German teacher, Frau Klein. Frau Klein - a German native, now living in the US since 2007, offers German language and culture programs through hands-on activities and personalized curriculums for everyone from age 1 to 100.

Please check her out at GermanTimeWithFrauKlein.com.

Frau Klein is an immigrant, entrepreneur, and all-around SHEro in our hearts. We are so excited for her to unwrap the hidden story and German traditions of Advent for us today. We hope you'll share this little tidbit of history with your kiddos, in whatever way your family is counting down the days until Christmas. And happy second Sunday of Advent!

Advent Advent

There is no better time than December to be German! Many customs speak the old language, and since we Germans don't celebrate Thanksgiving, we wait a few more days and ring in the holidays with Advent (Latin: advenire - to arrive).

Adventskranz and Adventskalender are essential. Traditionally an Adventskranz is a wreath made out of fir tree branches holding four candles. Depending on your or the vendor's mood, it is decorated with ribbons, little figures, pine cones, and other bits and bobs. Starting the fourth Sunday before Christmas Eve, we light up the first candle and add one each of the following Sundays. The history of this tradition goes back more than 170 years ago by a clergyman named Johann Hinrich Wichern, who looked after poor children. His little students were anxiously awaiting the Christmas celebrations and asked him multiple times daily. He put four large and many small candles on a wagon wheel and lit up a big one for each Sunday and the little ones for the other days.

Since wagon wheels do not come in handy, nor do they fit the ordinary dining table, the Adventskranz has significantly shrunk to a more appropriate size. When it comes to the small candles, these have now evolved into an Adventskalender: A calendar with 24 "Türchen" (little windows or boxes) that can be bought containing chocolate, books, or toys. Adult versions with wine or beer are available for purchase as well. Crafty Pinterest people make their own for their loved ones - the sky is the limit!

The 11th Day of Christmas: Elf on the Shelf - the Remix

Regular readers of the blog know I am the number one anti-fan of Elf on the Shelf. If you're not familiar, you can read all about my loathsome hatred for the thing here.

Yes, it's no secret. I think this tradition is WHACK. So it should come as no surprise to anyone that when we moved to Berlin with a meer nine boxes of possessions, that funking fairy didn't make it across the pond.

So, what could possibly convince me to tap the "buy now" button on Amazon prime and send her catapulting directly back into my living nightmare? Was it the performance anxiety of concocting a creative scene each night or the feelings of failure when I had been lazy and just tossed it on a different shelf that I craved so much? No, no.

Does my lack of a corporate job mean I am now able to compete with the elaborate Pinterest scenes flooding social media that have obviously been produced by someone who works for freaking Disney?! Ha. Hardly.

It wasn't any of that. Instead, I realized we're in a year where everything was turned upside down for most of us. Where a new normal could have meant not seeing your friends at school, keeping up with the demands of working from home while facilitating e-learning, always remembering (or forgetting) your mask, or missing family holidays or celebrations due to travel restrictions. In a year filled with so much change and disappointment, I'm inviting the Elf on the Shelf back for another year of nonsense. If this mischievous little fairy can deliver a little holiday spirit and be a fun distraction while we're all missing what we would normally be doing over the holiday season, then I'm all for it.

Plus, my kid is eleven now.

The jig is up! Accidentally touching her Elf doesn't make me the murderer of Christmas anymore, so the stakes are way lower.

Dare I say? This year might even be a little fun.

The 12th Day of Christmas: Finding Comfort in Chaos

This tale begins when Christmas in my family officially kicks off. Black Friday!

Black Friday is a time-honored tradition in my family, which begins over pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving Day. All of the ladies in my family gather around the table, distribute coveted Black Friday ads, make scrolling lists (or, if you're my mother, spreadsheets), and create a plan of attack. I remember as children, my cousins and I rifling through ads, excitedly circling toys and clothes we hoped to unwrap on Christmas Eve. And the year my mother introduced Olive to this time-honored tradition, placing a fat black marker in her kindergarten hand, pointing out a few ideas. Of course, Olive was a natural.

Black Friday morning, my mom and I were up before the sun and heading out to collect my aunts and grandma. Festivities began on one side of town with peppermint cocoa. We continued checking things off our lists until strategically landing at the mall for lunch to refuel, winding down around 2 pm when the final early bird sales had ended. We'd pile ourselves and our packages into the car and drive home, singing Christmas carols on the radio and chattering about the triumphs of the day.

Consumerism aside, (sidebar: HUGE kudos to all the stores staying closed on Thanksgiving! I've hated seeing Black Friday creep closer and closer to Thanksgiving Day until finally eclipsing it several years back, meaning those working in the stores weren't spending the day with their families just so that strangers could scuffle over $5 towels.) Black Friday has always been a special and super fun day to enjoy with all the women in my family.

When I moved to Hawaii in 2010, I knew the holiday season, particularly this day, would be riddled with homesickness. Luckily, the universe had gifted me with meeting Abby around the same time.

Like me, she was a new, young mother, living far away from her family. We became fast friends and were grateful to celebrate Thanksgiving together, knowing we were both missing big family gatherings back home. Abby and her family also fun Black Friday traditions she was missing, so together, we conspired to create our own.

It's 85 degrees (that's around 30 Celcius, for my European friends ;) ) and sunny? Who cares? Spaghetti straps it is! Not an evergreen tree in sight? Fine! We'll go to Target. Stroll through the artificial tree displays. Plus, they even have a Starbucks. Perfect! Our plan was hatched.

The next morning we loaded our babies up and headed to the Aiea Target, channeling all the Black Friday vibes we could.

In reality, the experience was underwhelming and left us missing home even more. There were no crowds. No Santas all dressed up ready to grant Christmas wishes. Our girls were just babies, so no special toy we had to score. Instead, we meandered through the holiday displays and shared the ways our moms made Christmas so special year after year. We reminisced over our favorite holiday pastimes, from the sweets we made to matching family pajamas.

We made one final stop before declaring our efforts a bust, grabbing a peppermint mocha for the ride home. Stepping outside, we were greeted by Hawaii's perpetual summer, rendering our steamy drinks wretchedly undesirable. The searing sun, further amplified by my leather seats, had us instantly sweating and regretting the cup of holiday "cheer."

Exacerbated and homesick, I snapped, "What is this?! It's the end of November! We should be wearing hats and scarves. We should shiver when we get in the car- not drip sweat drinking a coffee!"

Abby emphatically agreed, "Ridiculous!" The outburst sent us reeling into laughter that morphed to tears almost just as quickly.

There we sat, sniffling. Two young women with brand new babies and the only moms to be found around were us. Despite our best efforts, we were homesick AF.

Deciding to rally, I asked Abby to tuck blankets over the girls in their car seats. We cranked the air conditioning to full blast and sang our hearts out to the most classic Christmas hits I could find, and sipped on Starbucks, our noses running from the manufactured cold.

This Black Friday, unlike any other, was forever etched into my heart. In a situation where each of us was so desperately looking for familiarity, we found each other. And never let go.

As many of us find ourselves missing the comfort of annual traditions and usual company this year, I hope you, too, find ways to rally. In my experience, this is where one can discover the most magical and lasting memories of all.

Upcoming Holiday Series: The 12 Days of Christmas

In the absence of normalcy (I'm looking at YOU, 2020) and faced with the growing threat of not traveling to the U.S. for Christmas, I've decided to release a new series: the 12 Days of Christmas.

Starting tomorrow and throughout December, I'll release 12 fresh blogs gushing about our favorite holiday attractions and traditions. We'll share some of our most treasured Christmas memories, as well as how we plan to create a little holiday magic this year, despite COVID.

I hope you'll enjoy it and be inspired to sparkle wherever you are this holiday season.

Eleven.

Today, I became the mother of an eleven-year-old. I knew she would grow up, and I imagined it would feel like it had happened just as fast as people said it would. Even though I believed them, it somehow still feels like all I did was blink!

This pre-teen season is undoubtedly going to require different tools and tricks as a parent. There will probably be less of what I felt like I excelled at; less of doing things with and for her, but a lot more holding space, listening and creating a safe place for her to grow and discover. Accepting that when she is hurt, it's probably not the playground boo-boo variation quickly cured by my mom's kisses.

For a decade, I worked hard to raise a little girl who was brave, confident, and had a mind of her own. So imagine my surprise when I realized I had, in fact, raised a brave, confident girl with a mind of her own!

I suppose she'll spend the next decade reminding me of exactly what I've done… In the meantime, here's one final slice of ten:

What are you most afraid of?

Honestly, probably just losing anyone I love. I mean, yeah, I'm scared of spiders, but not as much as that. And bungee jumping.

Who is your best friend?

Mom. I really can't choose. How many can I pick? Morgan, Lin, Carmen, Eddy. And obviously others.

What is your favorite thing to do?

Soccer, art, and watch TV.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

An actress, famous fußball player, or even just own my own clothes shop.

What is your favorite food?

I love lots of things! I just like food. Except for veggies.

What do you do really well?

Math. Fashion. Make friends. (Editor's note: When Olive was 3, I asked her what she did really well. Her answer at the time was, "eat playdough". I like the direction things are going.)

What makes you laugh?

Sometimes you and Sebastian make me laugh. My friends. Weird people on the street make me laugh.

What is the best time of the day?

Breakfast.

What do you love to learn about?

Animals. Biology.

Where do you like to go?

Gleisdreieck Park. It's so fun.

What is your favorite book?

That's a hard one! Anne Frank, Mr. Stink, Harry Potter.

If you had one wish, what would it be?

A baby brother… or sister. I would wish for a unicorn, but that never works. Or, to speak every language in the world, then I could get more friends.

What do you like to do with your family?

Celebrate! Anything! Christmas, Halloween, birthdays, the first time a baby poops!

We love celebrating with you, too! <3

So, to my Snoedel on her 11th birthday:

Every birthday you celebrate, I celebrate because having you was the ultimate gift. Watching you grow has been one of my life's greatest joys. You've taken on incredible challenges with a smile, and I couldn't be more proud. You embody courage, and I will do my best to continue to model bravery, kindness, and curiosity (even though I'm starting to feel like the student becomes the master and I could learn a thing or two from you, now!).

This next decade, I promise to continue to support and love you unconditionally as you explore this world, navigate who you are becoming, and form ideas around what's important to Olive. When you fall, I will do my best to offer a soft landing and a non-judgmental ear to hear you.

And while you and I made one heck of a dazzling duo for the last ten, Sebastian nailed his audition as co-star, and I am so happy to share the stage with him. You are one incredibly loved Snoedel.

Keep shining, baby girl. We got your back.

XO,

Mama

Becoming Berliners

So here's the skinny! Last fall, Olive and I landed in Berlin, beginning our next big adventure: Deutschland Edition. A lot has transpired in recent months, to say the least.

We applied for and obtained our German visas. I completed an immersive German language class, while Olive took German grundschule (Berlin public schools) by storm! We transformed an utterly bare apartment into a home, officially became a family of three in a truly picturesque ceremony surrounded by friends, and endured a global pandemic.

Six months in, the dust is beginning to settle, and most of the logistical and administrative pieces of our move are behind us. We've been here long enough to realize what we love and miss about America and for the novelty of living abroad to fade. We've also spent enough days enjoying the sunshine, parks, and each other's company to be grateful for what exists here that was out of our grasp in America.

This expedition has been an adventure unlike any other! It has presented a brand new set of experiences and challenges that require a different toolset than we've collected so far. It's a transition that requires stamina, patience, and a lot of grace for ourselves and others. Some days we're navigating this like master explorers, and others, more like a blind mole rat in a mesh trash can. It's been fun. It's been hard. There have been victorious moments that made us feel unstoppable and others that left us feeling utterly deflated, sometimes in the span of just a few hours. Before we know it, Berlin will feel like home, but until then, we'll keep showing up and sharing our discoveries along the way.

Love is in the Hair

"Tiffany! Your hair is SO long!"
-literally everyone I facetime with these days.

And they're right.

So long, in fact, the digital frame we're chatting in cannot contain it, which is probably why it's so shocking. My hair is like, biblically long. No, I did not join a cult, and I do not want to become some kind of real-life Rapunzel (the Q-word has more than proven that to me).

The truth is, when I love something, I have a hard time letting it go. I'm not talking about my hair. I'm talking about my friends at Ingmar James Salon, back in Chicago.

Knowing I'd be stateside in December, I made sure to snag a coveted pre-NYE slot with the amazing, Jackie Scogna. To be honest, I had every intention of keeping this long-distance relationship up, but it seems the pandemic will derail my plans.

Ingmar James is a top-notch salon based on services alone, but they go even above and beyond what you would expect from a five-star salon. Quoting their website, the owners, William and Garret "were inspired to create a world-class hair salon to serve the neighborhoods of Chicago" and boy, did they deliver. This is a group of people who are passionate about what they do and who they do it for. Since opening, Ingmar James Salon has become an integral piece of social fabric woven into Broadway Street.

Every Halloween Hoopla (arguably one of the most beloved days in the Lakeview East neighborhood), their crew excitedly welcomes trick-or-treaters of all ages. There's candy for the kids and something a little stronger for the parents (J-E-L-L-O shots, my friends!). But as with everything they do, the experience doesn't end there. Inside awaits a professionally lit step and repeat, giving you the most red carpet Halloween experience. They send you on your way sugared up and with an instant Polaroid photo, memorializing the day. Ingmar James pulls out all the stops making this my favorite attraction along the trick-or-treat corridor.

Throughout the year, they offer workshops to teach you the tricks of the trade! For years, I had wanted to know the secrets of doing a fantastic blow-out at home. I was thrilled to register for a workshop they were offering to learn just that. A $25 registration fee held my spot. When we arrived, everyone filled their glasses (because first things first!), and the experts demonstrated the process step-by-step as we sipped our bubbly. Next, they treated us to a professional hair wash (which ladies and gentlemen, we know this is worth $25 alone!). After that, we got to jump in a chair and put our round brush skills to the test! The stylists continued to coach us and provide tips as we clumsily tried it on our own. Finally, we used our $25 registration fee toward any products or tools we wanted. I took home a fancy new round brush determined to become a master. I can't think of another girls' night out where you get as much bang for your buck!

As if all this isn't enough, they somehow manage to create a feeling of coming home to family every time you walked through the door- not an easy feat in a city of almost 3 million inhabitants. My daughter was always delighted to spend time there. The hot tea. The mints. The conversation. She loved it all. William, one of the owners, even supported my budding entrepreneur of a daughter by buying her artwork, a rainbow unicorn watercolor. When Olive received three A's on her report card, forced to make good on the promise she could dye her hair pink and the whole crew at Ingmar James celebrated her victory, just as proud of her as I was.

And don't even get me started about how Miss Jackie rescued Olive's hair from a big fat piece of Hubba Bubba!

I've been thinking about them a lot lately. Not just because my grown-out roots and split ends are racing to meet each other, but because I miss them all so damn much.

The stay-at-home order has forced their doors closed for now but I know they cannot wait to get back to making the world a more beautiful place (in every way!) because they live for it.

In the meantime, if you can help this Chicago gem weather the storm, I would encourage you to purchase a gift card from their website. They are still open one day a week for product pick-up when you pre-purchase online, and they're finalizing a post-pandemic plan to reopen.

Until then, put the drugstore box color back on the shelf and slowly back away. This concludes today's global crisis PSA.

Quarantine, Bubble Wands & Other Curse Words

Quarantine, henceforth known as the ‘Q-word’. It’s wasted enough of my life already and I refuse to waste any more of it on so much as spelling the whole word out. This is a curse word. A CURSE. 

The truth is, right before the dreaded Q-word hit, things were just about to get good. Olive aced her German intro class and was set to begin in her permanent school. I passed my language test and had begun interviewing for jobs. The long, dreary Berlin winter was ending and about to make good on its promise of being absolutely awesome. But, alas, no. 

Corona. And Q-word!

This particular day started out quite tolerable, all things considered. I briefly escaped the house to run an “essential errand”. Waiting in line, soaking up my fifteen minutes of freedom, a familiar display caught my eye.  Bubble wands!

I was feeling pretty spunky (relatively speaking because you know… the Q-word) and for just a few Euros- what the hell?! Snagging one up, I basically skipped home hoping my simple joy would be as contagious as a recently accused bat. (Too soon?)   

Olive lit up, as one does when presented with a shiny, new bubble wand. Her enthusiasm inspired us to take our little bubble fairy and her wand for a short gallop around the neighborhood. And that’s the end of this fairy tale. 

On the real, if you are also in Q-word and enjoyed this sweet image of my picturesque family relishing a sunny stroll framed with blooming trees. Their sweet little girl twirling with a fresh bubble wand, her parents occasionally leaping or stretching to catch a floppy bubble… then take a snapshot, put it on a  visitors’ brochure, and walk away. 

It’s about to get real Roseanne in here (minus the racist, career-ending rant). 

Olive is running, jumping, frolicking with general merriment when SLAP! The mint condition bubble wand lurches out of her [incredibly shallow] pocket making the same sound as your iPhone landing, screen down, on your ceramic tile floor. 

Busted. Broken. Dunzo. 

Phase I: Cue the crying child. Simultaneously, cue the comforting and incredibly sympathetic parents. 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry it’s broken! Hmph. Well, it was fun while it lasted. That happens,” adding a few gentle back rubs.

Phase II: Olive is no longer sniffling. She is sobbing, and it's quickly escalating to wailing. 

“But you JUST bought it for me!”

I give her an understanding look and attempt to soothe her, “honey, I know, but I didn’t really expect it to last.”

I quickly discovered that wasn't the right answer either. The words that landed on her ears were, “you destroy everything you touch!” instead of “dude, it was three Euros." Now she’s insulted.

The wailing is accompanied by the dragging of feet, in a weak attempt to soldier on. In my head, the record plays, "it’s beautiful out. I am so happy to be out! How do we move past this and enjoy a nice little walk outside?’

But my kid has other plans. 

Phase III: “My new friend won’t like me anymore because it’s broken! WAAaaaa!!” 

And like the damn bubble wand, I am cracking.

“WHAT new friend?! We don’t have any friends! We only have each other right now! Also, PLOT HOLE, we’re the only people who ever even knew the thing existed in the first place! WHO could be so mad they wouldn’t want to be your friend? Only a TERRIBLE one and if that’s the case, you don’t need her anyway! You are just looking for new reasons to be sad about it. Please, just let it go!”

She stared at me for a moment, leading me to believe she was hearing what I meant. Wrong again. In reality, she was only collecting her breath, so that in the next moment when she thrust her chin to the sky, the giant wail she let out could be heard by the gods.

But oh, my sweet child, they cannot hear you. Because we have descended to the third level of hell and there are no gods here. 

Phase IV: Complete nuclear meltdown. 

And I don't mean her. ME.  

I march toward her, snatch that little thief of happiness from her sticky little bubble-juice fingers and LAUNCH it like a bronze medalist javelin thrower.

Or as some might say, like a CERT-I-FIED PSY-CO! Complete lunatic.

But for two precious seconds...nothing. Complete silence. Oh sweet silence. Looking down the path, I see the empty, plastic carcass lying there. Only a stone’s throw from a waste bucket. 

A voice in my head gently whispers (probably because it’s afraid of me),  “Well you can’t just leave it there… litterer.”

Shit. She’s right. Not after that freak show. That’s gotta be some kind of double mom felony. Begrudgingly, I stomp down the path and after three angry tries, successfully send it to its final resting place in the bin. Along with any hope that we could make it out of this whole Q-word thing emotionally unscathed. 

The moral of this story? 

No one is coming out of this unchanged.

We’re all doing our best.

But most of all, bubble wands be damned. 

Welcome to Book Club!

I normally try to speak without using extreme language- you know, polarizing words like always and never. But I have to break my own rule for this one. Are you ready?

You will never EVER ever look back on your entire life and think a single minute of reading with your child was wasted. Read that again.

Each and every moment was meaningful.

I know, it’s no secret that reading to your child comes with many benefits. Children who are read to consistently score better on tests, have more robust vocabularies and learn to read at an earlier age themselves. In fact, according to the National Commission on Reading, the single most important factor influencing a child’s early educational success is being read to at home before beginning school. Reading aloud to your children not only has measurable academic benefits but also stimulates motivation, curiosity, and memory.

While these benefits are no secret, I would also suggest the benefits for parents (although less talked about) are equally significant. Reading together strengthens the parent-child bond and when weaved into a nightly routine becomes a welcomed lull in the busyness of everyday life.

With my most recent move I was determined to channel all the Marie Kondo vibes, but I must admit, fell short when it came to our beloved book collection. Plucking books from the shelf intended for the donate box, I discovered so many (ok, basically all of them) still sparked joy. Holding each in my open palms I was transported to a place in time, that I was surprised to find, even Olive recalled from years ago.

Naturally, I was left with no alternative than to share our favorites on the blog in our newest series: Virtual Book Club! (*theater voice: “Coming soon to an internet near you!”*)

We can’t wait to relive all the wonder and snuggles through this new series and hope to inspire years of cherished memories for your families, as well.

Until then, Goodnight Moon.

<3

Moon Sand: A Cure for Winter Blues

About this time of year, we are all solidly craving some serious beach vibes. Below is a recipe for some substitute sunshine I found on Pinterest back in olden times, probably etched in stone by its first invite-only members circa 2012.

There are a plethora of sandy DIY concoctions available now, but I’ve found this one to be tried and true.

• 8 cups flour

• 1 cup baby oil

• Mix thoroughly and play!

We also found that the baby stacking cups were great for playing in the sand, but measuring cups would do the trick as well.

It’s quick and easy, but most importantly it’s simple to clean up! Seriously- a cinch! Just hit it with the vacuum and good as new. (Also, the baby oil aroma leftover on those sticky little toddler fingers will have you believing maybe one more round of diapers wouldn’t be so bad, right? Wrong! You know why?! Because sleeping through the night is AWESOME. “Girl! Wash your face!” and remember how awesome sleeping through the night is!)

So, whether you fill a storage bin that slides under the bed or a smaller to-go bin to keep in the trunk, this pseudo-sand will temporarily scratch that summer, sand-in-your-toes itch and is guaranteed* to give you a solid hour of Netflix**.

Light a coconut candle, blast that summertime playlist and take a quick trip to the beach on even the most wintry of days.

Here are the links for easy delivery to your front door!

Baby Oil
Storage Bin
Stacking Cups

* My lawyers notified me I am not qualified to make any “guarantees”.

**Results may vary based on the individual child.

Help Wanted: Elf On Shelf, Engineer

In search of someone to come to my house and move this god d@mn Elf on the Shelf (aka Cocoa) every FUNKing night, some time past 9 pm CST, but also before my daughter gets thirsty at a completely unpredictable hour in the middle of the night.

While I have narrowly avoided this atrocity of a tradition year after year, my eight-year-old successfully conned her father into buying her one because it's "magic" and "actually kind of fun," (according to the man who only has to move it twice before Christmas *hard eyeroll*) and it, of course, found it's way back to Chicago, to eerily creep on my daughter each and every waking moment and simultaneously thieve whatever small shred of sanity I had left. *pops cork on wine bottle with teeth* 

So, forget that I've spent the better part of a decade teaching my daughter to make good and kind choices regardless of who is watching or will find out- now we aren't even allowed to have "private" conversations IN OUR OWN HOME because Cocoa is within earshot and "that's kind of embarrassing".

(Spoiler alert! Our private conversations are about poop. I AM WHISPERING ABOUT THE CONSISTENCY OF POOP IN MY OWN HOME.)

Now, I am a single parent with a career, so as I'm sure you can imagine, there is quite literally NOTHING I love more than finally laying down in bed after a long day of work, schedule juggling, human-tetrising my way onto the El, making dinner, begging someone tiny to eat, shower and floss, worrying about tech neck, scrambling to check homework assignments/notes/permission slips, laundry, and cleaning up whatever else exploded and/or imploded that day, only to suddenly remember I didn't move that GOD FORSAKEN ELF THAT'S *STILL* ON THE SHELF from the night before.

At which point, I begrudgingly thrash off the covers and fumble around our 42 square-foot apartment in the dark, praying I don't accidentally paralyze the cat, and try to find something to attach these little hand sewn arms (the bitch's hands are *literally* sewn together) around anything remotely festive. After a few failed attempts and spilling the ground cinnamon I forgot was set out to aid her magical flight back to the North Pole, my genius idea is to let this trick ride our Christmas tree like a rodeo bull. Obviously, I knock the tree and all of its 734 jingle bells onto the floor trying to mount her up there and pray my daughter is not springing from her bed to see what is the matter.

Anyway, I was over this shit before it started. So if you are someone with a strange amount of "holiday spirit" or are trying to win some weird Buddy the Elf competition and can carry us through to the holiday- I encourage you to apply! 

Requirements:
-Must bring your own moccasins or have superior ninja skills... either will suffice.
-If my child wakes up during your shift, you *must* be willing to pretend you ARE the Grinch, and convince her that she has saved Christmas by catching you.
+Night vision goggles are a plus.

*Serious inquiries only. 
**Jk.