* In 2009 the #@*&!!! Elf on a Shelf turned up in my home — through no fault of my own — and I tried to warn the world about its evils. All these years later that little #@&!!! is thriving … as are the little boys who eventually grew up to follow the memes and do dasterdly things to it. Spoiler: we all survived (well, obviously not all of us…)

My sister is a kind and generous soul and I love her.  I really do.

I just want to kill her.

Well maybe not kill her but definitely hurt her really, really bad.  Maybe a lengthy pinch of the little fleshy stuff right under her armpit. You know, just a little something for emphasis.

Swept up in the magic of Christmas, she thought it would be super cool to give me a first class ticket on the Elf on the Shelf bandwagon.  Apparently she thought the whole gimmick sounded delightfully joyous and heartwarming for my boys this holiday season.  (Quick version:  a book and elf arrive in festive packaging.  This magic elf then watches the kids’ behavior each day until Christmas.  He hides throughout the house and each day the kids wake up, search for him and whisper their holiday desires into his little ear.) Joy to the world!

I get it. on the surface it seems very cute indeed.  The thing is, my boys are not *little kids (9 & 10 with older siblings — you get my drift?) and well, they’re BOYS. They now wake up  in Spartacus mode –  a competition of the fittest  to find it first – before they resume wrestling and beating the spit out of each other (like most mornings). It really has just given them another reason to tussle before the school bus.

Still, we’ve been dutifully going along with this.

Here’s MY problem with our newest holiday tradition (she says forlornly, hoping they’ll misplace the box next year):  it’s making me a total wreck.  I can’t even say how many dark, cold mornings my eyes have flown open with the realization that I didn’t move the creepy little elf doll to a new spot before turning in for bed.  It’s worse than forgetting the Tooth Fairy was supposed to come (there’s no throwing it in the crumpled sheets with feigned, “Oh THERE it is!” nonsense).  This is serious.  And has to happen EVERY night.  I have lost so much sleep because of it  I look awful (which hello, is not going to help me in the unspoken Who-Looks-Better? contest when my sister and I gather for the holidays).

So yes, I am here to warn others:  this becomes a full-bodied commitment the moment that silly book is read aloud to your little Santa-seekers.

FortheloveofGod, pay no attention to the window displays at Borders and just keep walking.

Go back to stringing popcorn and find other holiday traditions that won’t put bags under your eyes.

 I’m no Scrooge but sorry, I just can’t help it.

I’m tired (from lack of sleep).

And cranky (from running out of hiding spaces).

And I haven’t thought of anything yet for paybacks for my sister…

but I will.

Oh, ho, ho, hope she’s not reading this because oh yeah I will.

Tina Drakakis blogs at Eyerollingmom and has been featured in Boston Globe &  Huff Post.  She appeared in the Boston production of “Listen to Your Mother: Giving Motherhood a Microphone” presenting her popular essay The Thinking Girl’s Thong and her work has been featured in NPR’s “This I Believe” radio series. That said, she still places “Most Popular 1984” on top of her list of achievements (next would be as the $100,000 winner on that home improvement reality TV show of 2003 but her kids won’t let her talk about that anymore). A witty mother of four, she takes on cyberspace as Eyerollingmom/Tina Drakakis on Facebook,  Instagram & Threads.  Her fave collection of essays, A Momoir, can be found  here (agent interest ALWAYS WELCOME!)