I believed that I couldn’t draw. And then I picked up a paintbrush. It wasn’t that I couldn’t draw. It was that I was using the wrong tool.
Happy New Year. May you renew your belief in yourself and explore your dreams with new inspiration, dedication and a host of unconventional tools.
Perhaps it is because I’m the farthest from home I’ve ever been at Christmastime, or because I’m still trying to wrap my head around decorating a palm tree, but all of the Facebook back and forth over why we should continue to propagate the myth of a mischievous little creature in our homes has left me pensive and nostalgic. And frankly, a little bit freaked out.
First the nostalgic. Don’t you remember when you were a kid, how you would just fill up like a water balloon, in the days following Thanksgiving, with the excitement of the holidays? Whether it was driving around looking at lights, or the anticipation of what treasures were held in the brightly colored packages, everything around us as kids screams wonder and happiness. Then, on Christmas Eve, we would practically pass out (literally, I remember trying to hold my breath in the back seat of our car to make myself go to sleep faster so Santa wouldn’t catch me awake on the ride home from my grandmother’s house) from anticipation that almost reached anxiety levels, just waiting to see what Santa was going to accomplish that year.
The Elf on the Shelf simply brings Christmas magic, the possibility of catching a glimpse of the extraordinary, into a kid’s home nightly. For the parents out there that are exhausted and frustrated with having to perpetuate this myth, particularly for their older kids, I beg you to keep going. This isn’t about them wanting to force you out of bed in the night, give you one more thing to add to your already overloaded and toppling list of things to do or challenge your abilities as a creative and caring parent. This is about them just wanting proof that there is magic still in the world. This is about them holding onto the innocence of childhood for just one more year. This is about keeping our jaded, meat and potatoes world at bay with just one more season of cupcakes for dinner. And for us parents, this is truly a moment when the lists and the ‘I wants’ are erased from the holiday equation, and what we are left with is children that are filled with wonder and joy.
Now the freaked out part. Our elf Sam has been visiting us for the last week, and it has taught me many things about my children (ages 6 and 9) but mostly how trusting they are in us and the world. There is no hesitation, there is no questioning, there is just acceptance that intentions are pure and actions are good. As a parent, this scares the crap out of me because I know, and have experienced, different. But I also know that those experiences, are my experiences, and coloring their world with my experiences removes entire spectrums of possibility for them. So, as a parent, how do I foster this beautiful innocence and wonder, while teaching them to be safe and discerning? The best I can come up with is to just enjoy each moment as much as they do, like playing the Elf on the Shelf game as long as they’ll have it, and take each life event for what it is while giving relevant instruction along the way. And, most importantly, to be inspired to reclaim my own wonder and joy around the season, so that I may see the world as that child once again (although I now know I’ll always breathe in before passing out). Sampling some of that magic will help me to understand and therefore communicate better as a parent.
A friend recently commented that the Elf on the Shelf was “a daily opportunity to fail as a parent,” which made me laugh out loud. Rather, I would like to propose that in addition to stealing from our candy stashes and tipping over Christmas trees, our elves are giving us a glimpse of being a kid at Christmas and an opportunity to connect with our kids in a way that is lost most of the rest of the year. I would even go as far as to say, our elves are helping us to be better parents.
Like going to a writing gym
Riding The Margin 