In the festive buzz of Christmas traditions, I find myself entangled in an unexpected dilemma – shoud the Elf on the Shelf grace our home and become part of our evolving Christmas traditions? As a clinical psychologist and advocate for responsive, gentle, and attachment-focused parenting, this decision has unexpectedly become a complex journey. To be honest, the Elf on the Shelf didn’t register on my parenting radar until a few weeks ago. The whimsical dolls, supposedly Santa’s eyes and ears, seem harmless but carry a not-so-jolly message – behave, or face the risk of no presents on Christmas morning.

As a psychologist, I understood that our brains go through some serious rewiring during pregnancy to protect our little bundles. We become super alert and cautious to keep our babies safe. Suddenly, we spot dangers we never saw before, like that tiny baby groan in the middle of the night. But you know what? Knowing this didn't prepare me for the real deal. It hit me like a tonne of bricks shortly after having my first baby with a trip to the maternity hospital emergency unit when I became unwell. I didn't even think about my own well-being. All I could think about was my baby.

My initial reaction was frustration. Those precious few minutes in the bathroom were a rare oasis of self-care. With a newborn just two weeks old, the challenge of carving out time for myself was mounting. Before her arrival, evenings had offered some respite, but now they were consumed by night feedings and nappy changes. These bathroom escapes, although not quite luxurious, sometimes felt like a lifeline. In that moment of frustration, I was caught up in feeling like I couldn't meet even my basic needs and I was overwhelmed by being needed so very much after a long night of cluster feeding my youngest. The "mammy....maaaammmyyy" through the tears was like sensory overload. I thought, "Give me a break!" and "Can I please just pee in peace?" - we've all been there right?. And just as the next thought came to mind, I heard my husband say it aloud from the room next door - "She's fine. She's crying over nothing". Of course my husband's well-intentioned words were an attempt to reassure me that he had it all in hand, but hearing them aloud made me pause for a moment. They brought up something deep-rooted for me.