"The elf is the bane of my December," she said. "Her name is Arielle. She wears a Target-exclusive sparkly tutu that cost like 15 bucks. She has two. I can barely remember to brush my teeth, let alone hide her nightly or do an outfit change."
The fact that she forgot to move the elf usually hits around 3 a.m., while she's feeding her newborn. "At which point I run downstairs only to discover that I can't reach her because my husband who is 6-foot-3 hid her the night before on the ledge of crown molding 12 feet high," Murphy said. "I then peg her with things in the dark until I finally knock her down, at which point I hide her someplace glaringly lame."
She knows an elf supermom or two. Their Facebook feeds are hard to ignore, Murphy said.
"I have a friend who staged a marshmallow snowball fight between the elf and 'Monsters Inc.' (characters)," she said. "Honestly, I don't think my kids give a crap. They're more excited about the chocolates in their Advent calendars."