Yes, I went trick-or-treating until I was sixteen. Because I could pull it off.

I just don’t get Halloween these days. It is a mystery unto me. Hardly any trick-or-treaters at my door. Barely a soul out on the streets. Fancy buckets that have most undeniably cost more money than the meager amount of candy that gets thrown in them. Kids who just don’t understand the meaning or the excitement of it all.

And for the first time in my life we are attending a “trunk-or-treat” this year. People drive their cars to a parking lot, decorate the trunk, then stand there handing out candy as kids go trunk to trunk. As if peeking inside someone’s car trunk could be nearly as fun as peeking inside someone’s house? As if walking around in a small circle gives kids the same character, pride, and satisfaction as trudging door to door for hours and coming home with an assortment of candy to rival Willy Wonka’s?!

But I get it. I know why many people have felt the need to abandon traditions of the past. I’m not even necessarily opposed to these new ideas in theory, but if this is the new state of current and future Halloweens, please allow me to mourn the past. Please allow me a moment to commiserate and reflect on how the world once was.

So I decided it appropriate and even necessary to start a new tradition in my family, wherein on Halloween Eve, I will gather my offspring about me, as they sip warm apple cider, their eyes wide with amazement, while I tell them the story of When Halloween Was Better than Ever. And I will recite it from memory every year until it seems almost real enough to become their Halloween:

Oh dear children. Just imagine this. When I was a little girl, all the way to my sixteenth year, Halloween was a marathon. A wondrous, spooky, candy-laden, stranger-filled, treasure hunt of a marathon. Walking, knocking, walking, knocking, trudging, thank-youing, hoarding, and eating.

Dad would drive my sisters and me to the hot spots, with our empty pillow cases or paper bags in tow, where we could achieve maximum candy intake in a minimum amount of time. It was almost a contest for us, to see if we could surpass the stupendous success of the previous year. Pretty soon our bags were full, and we would head back to the car to lighten our load a little. People always gave more candy if they thought we were just starting out. Sneaky, yes. But not without merit. It’s not as if we went back to the same house twice. That was just unheard of. No, every house got one chance to WOW everyone with their treat selection.

And then we’d drive off to another spot, where the houses were close together and the candy was flowing. We knew none of these people, had never been to their homes, but EVERYONE kindly and enthusiastically gave us a piece of candy, while commenting on our costumes. They were enjoying it as much as we were no doubt. Some of them even urged us to take more because they had so much. And we always sincerely said thank you, even if we were a bunch of the shyest kids on earth. Because that’s just how Halloween was. Every kid knew the value of free candy. Even the parents who were following along behind the kids knew and appreciated the value of free candy. That’s why we went door-to-door for hours. HOURS!

By the time our fingers and toes were too cold to carry-on, and the neighborhood coffers had run dry, we got back in the car and headed home for the most delightful part of the night.

The dividing.

We would each stake claim on a part of the living room floor, where we would dump out our treasure trove of goodies and divide them up into categories. Kit Kats here in this pile. Eighteen of them! Blow-pops over here. Jolly Ranchers there. One-of-kinds in a pile all their own. Oh my, a Fun-Dip! Some of us (mainly I) would even go so far as to write down a candy inventory on a piece of paper as a deterrent for sneaky siblings, knowing they could be caught if the numbers didn’t match up the next day. A whole sheet of paper front and back!

Mom got all the Mounds because no kid had an affinity for those. Then dad, who had dutifully served as chauffeur, guard, and director, got to pick out his meager share of the pot from each child. A commission of sorts. An automatic gratuity already added to our Halloween stash. And at some point in those early years, he also started to “check” to make sure the candy looked up to snuff. Nothing unwrapped could be eaten. Anything "sketchy" was confiscated. And we were always told that if we saw or felt a razor blade mid-bite, to alert him immediately because there were a few nutsos out there trying to ruin the spirit of Halloween for everyone. For the longest time I didn't even know what a razor blade was, but I knew what a Whatchamacallit was and that's all that mattered back then. That year was the beginning of the end I believe. We didn’t realize how wondrous we had it in those days.

Well anyway children, some of us would then proceed to eat the candy within days, while others showed self-control and only ate a piece or two a day, making the candy last through Christmas. I happened to be a member of the latter.

Oh my spawn! It was so magical, and memorable! I do hope the fifteen pieces of candy you manage to collect tomorrow from people we know and trust will be treasured and savored, and always try to remember that once upon a time it would have been so much more, and next year it may be nothing.

Now off to bed my little goblins…mummy has to go have a good cry.

Chock-full of something

Well another visit to the dentist has turned into another declaration of “CAVITY!” which has now resulted in half my face being numb from chin to forehead. I think even my eyeball is showing signs of paralysis. I’m not worried about it . . . yet.

But I am vexed to discover that even through the intense numbness I can somehow feel an itch in some underlying cheek nerve. But, my friends, this is one of those itches that likes to play coy. It cannot be alleviated, especially since I can’t even feel my fingers trying to scratch it. Maddening for sure. Sort of makes me feel like I’m going crazy or possibly dreaming. Like a unicorn is tinkling me with a rainbow. Is this for real?

Anyway I’ve been dealing with this scenario for about two hours and if my sons cared about their mother’s sanity, they’d indeed be worried by now. Luckily they don’t care.

So the only thing left for me to do is sit in front of the television and judge commercials.

Dear Nutella peoples/creators,

I love your chocolatey creamy goodness. I’m sure hazelnuts are healthy for me and my kids, just as you claim. So yes. Good thing you’re chock-full of those hazelnuts. BUT! Trying to get me to believe that I should load my kids up on it for breakfast is oh so funny. Because, as I’m sure you know, in addition to hazelnuts, your also chock-full of Nutella. Ha! That was a silly oversight on your part. Hehehe. Can’t stop laughing.

P.S. Also I don’t usually share things that are chocolate in nature, especially not with my children. Oversight Number 2.

Dear toilet paper guy,

Yeah you. The one who keeps asking someone down the hall to throw you a roll of toilet paper because you’re out. And then you have to stand there in fear because you aren’t sure if the toilet paper is going to shave your head or bust up in your face. I hate to be the stater of obvious things, because generally I am the one who is oblivious to common sense, BUT I think it would be a smart choice to just start keeping the toilet paper in the bathroom. You know, where all the action is taking place anyway. It’s called streamlining, and I’m a huge fan of it.

P.S. I should probably take my own advice.

And now I’m drained of energy and my numb face is a ticking time bomb of frustration so I’ll stop before I alienate all of you. Apologies if any of you were the actual makers of those commercials. I’m still not totally sure if I’m writing this post in real life or not, what with this unicorn tickle and all. So there’s that.

Good day sir.

The equivalent to 1.21 gigawatts

Today was a rough day in Mommyland, AND in Humanland. I make a distinction between the two lands because sometimes as a mother (particularly a stay-at-home mother) I just don’t feel human or connected to a general population of people. This is not a complaint, just an observation.

My house is ripe with retaliation right now. There are chairs being pulled up to kitchen counters and knives being wielded. There are pounds of strawberries being consumed by one three year-old in the span of five minutes.

There is a baby brother being pushed down all in the name of toy claiming. There are nap strikers. There is a boy who hates diaper changes to an insane degree, resulting in the most tiring poop covered ten minutes of my life. There is the throwing of the food which I think might be similar to the running of the bulls if those bulls looked like goldfish crackers or bananas. There are flailing of arms, stomping of feet, clenching of teeth, and testing of scream shrieking capabilities. And who could forget the kicking of the crotch, mine to be precise.

So yes, today is a day that I would prefer not to be my Groundhog Day.

Turns out though that mothers are human despite the robotic tendencies they may find themselves exhibiting. And these mothers (I can only speak for myself though) do not have the super hero ability to just suck it up all day, everyday.

Because sometimes if you heat leftover macaroni and cheese too long in the microwave it will explode, which is a shame because macaroni and cheese is good and comforting you know? Having to clean that up off the walls would be sad and messy.

I'll give you a hint. I am not the microwave in this metaphor.

So yes, I admit that I lost it in front of Bosco, meaning I cried, sobbed was more like it. I don’t normally like to blame my emotions on womanhood, but I’m almost positive I was PMSing or at the very least ovulating from the right side. It was the perfect storm type of day. A lesser man would have freaked from all the emotions and drama in the air and sent him running because apparently that just doesn’t work with some people.

But you know who it does work for? My oldest son. He saw me in this deplorable state and immediately, like a bolt of lightning had just hit him, stopped acting like a fiend and tried to make me feel better. Maybe that is a testament to the fact that my son is awesome. And maybe it's also a testament to the power of snot and tears. 

Now, of course I feel a little silly for crying in front of my son but sometimes these matters cannot be helped. I wouldn’t purposefully do this again. But I am intrigued to know that when I am at my lowest, sniveling in front of my offspring, I have the strongest effect. 

Yes, but I must be very careful with this power that my tears apparently wield. Only to be used in states of emergency, or when chocolate faileth to deliver relief.

Thoughts whilst at the dentist

Today I returned to the dentist for my biannual filling of the cavities. It's a tradition my teeth and I have come to expect no matter how diligent I am in the areas of dental hygiene. At least this time it was just one and I only got slightly claustrophobic, unlike last time which was two and a whole face full of numb and spittle and anxiety induced nausea.  Yeah I've already blogged about this particular trial of mine so let's not beat a dead face even number.

How about instead I tell you my most recent thought process when I was reminded yet again of the weak state of my teefers. Thought processes are intriguing, yes?

Well, first I thought maybe dentistry was all one big conspiracy and that at some point in my early childhood I had been hand-picked as a guinea pig and tracked by dentists ever since to see how many fillings one mouth could harbor. And these dentists tell me I have cavities even though I don't, just for the sake of science!

Then I thought that was silly because why would a dentist want to fill cavities. Boring. I'm sure they'd rather be testing their mad skills in the root canal department.

Then my concern turned toward my children, hoping somehow they inherited the teeth of steel of their father who's only had one minuscule cavity his entire life.

Then I had a brief fleeting vision of chocolate. Not sure why. Don't most people think of chocolate like twenty times a day or is that just women?

Then I remembered how as a kid I used to gnaw on popcorn kernels with my two from teeth. Very naughty indeed.

Naturally I then thought of Bubba and his current biting tendencies. Now that he's got more than just two measly teeth, it hurts. I'm sure it hurts all his stuffed animals too. They suffer the brunt of this habit. I don't remember Bosco having this issue.

Ah, those two boys of mine . . .

Then I was officially caught up in a day dream. Happens often when I think of my kiddos. See, this picture of the above mentioned Bosco and Bubba tugs at my heart strings and certain synapses in my brain.

Mostly because seeing that reminds me of this:

A picture taken when Bubba was still fresh and new. One second after I snapped this picture Bubba had a major poop rocket and scared his big brother silly. Yes, one second later this picture would have captured a catapulted, flying Bubba. Understandably Bosco refused to hold his baby brother for a long time.

But that baby brother is no longer really a baby in anyone's mind but my own. Even the Husband insists he's toddler material of the finest kind.

Now call me a sufferer of the amnesia but I could swear that it was maybe two weeks ago that I first held this babe fresh from the womb, all covered in vernix (tmi?) with a full head of dark hair, smelling new,  and sort of looking like a beautiful outer space creature. But he was my creature. I knew this because of his nose and all, and because we took to each other like bananas to splits.

He was completely reliant on me. On us. All he could do was wiggle there on his back, wafting scents of sweetness and sometimes funkiness. Such is the bittersweet state of infancy.

But now this baby looks less like a creature and more like a full on boy to the most human degree. And instead of laying there in one cooing blob of baby fatness, he can now walk over to me, pat his backside and say, "Dis bah rum eee ooo uhh fi gah dom ba hah!" And I know he's proudly telling me there is a present in his diaper for me, and that he's planning on not listening to a thing I say today. And I also know, judging from past experience, soon he'll be able to say all of this in actual English which will lessen the cute factor by a slight degree.

That and his feet will start to smell. It's the way of his gender apparently.

And then he'll come nervously close to knocking his front tooth out just from walking . One in many trips to the dentist because he will have his mother's teeth, what with the cavities and all.

And now we've come full circle, thought pattern-wise anyway. You thought this ramble was going nowhere? You misunderestimated me deeply.

My point is cavities aren't all that bad. They make you ponder in a roundabout way. And pondering is one of the better skills you can possess. Much better than being able to lick your elbows. Talk about a waste of time (Please don't try this. You'll injure your neck and your pride. Trust.).

To all my friendlies

From this here redhead, I wish you a very Happy Valentine's Day, with multiple possibilities of chocolate.

I {heart} you. Not to be confused with I {orange} you which was Bosco's interpretation.

Hi. I'm Sarah. And I'm an Aquarius and I really, really wanna be loved by you.

Well today's the day, the day I make all your dreams come true. But never mind that.

Today is also the day I have to start writing my two digit age with the number 3. To give you a better idea of the state of me and my environs, this week I have:

-consumed a bag of popcorn (snack size okay) and a can of Hansen's Vanilla Cola every night around midnight.

-stayed in my pajamas. Put jeans on once while in a motivated mood and decided it wasn't worth the loss of comfort. Put pajamas back on.

-bathed twice.

-stayed in my house. Only ventured out to throw a bag of dirty diapers outside the door.

-went braless, mostly because of the above mentioned hermit-ness (did you know it feels strange and irritating to have bosom support after nearly a week of being shackle free?)

- lost a lot of sleep because of a strange humming noise in my bedroom. The Husband says he can't hear it. I think he's working on some elaborate April Fool's joke to get back at me for last year.

-requested cheesecake.

-watched too much stuff on Hulu.

-decided most of T.V. is bad acting . . . but I watch it anyway to make me feel better about the split between Keira Knightley and Rupert Friend, therefore dashing all hopes she could one day be known as Mrs. Friend.

-requested cheesecake.

-rededicated myself to the eating of chocolate, after a brief moment of insanity.

-made peace with the universe. Bribery was involved. Universe likes flattery too.

-was reminded that with age comes wisdom. And I need that because usually I'm pretty dense. So bring it on! (the wisdom I mean)

-decided to embrace myself. Really. I gave myself a hug. It was dumb.

-heard Bosco say, "I love you Mommy" about thirty times. I don't think that number is a coincidence.

. . . and I'm still waiting on that cheesecake.

Have a lovely weekend my dear poopsies. I plan on starting this decade of mine off all supastar like, and also getting more smarter in the process.

Christmas Cheer Rules

As promised here are the Christmas Cheer Rules. Follow these fifteen rules to enjoy Christmas cheer well into the New Year. Or your money back.

1. Don’t make it necessary to go to the DMV anytime during the month of December. Christmas Cheer and DMV cannot coexist. It’s a simple matter of physics and latitude/longitude.

2. If you plan on hand-making your Christmas gifts you must start well in advance. July for example. This is the only way the scenario will play out well.

3. Never ever do a Google search for lyrics to a Christmas song, then click on the first link provided. Your computer will undoubtedly be attacked by a Trojan of some sort, leaving your computer a useless pile just in time for Christmas Day.

4. Never intentionally take away the element of gift-giving surprise for another. Included but not limited to flat out telling someone what they are receiving for Christmas and/or revealing Santa’s true identity. (This rule, however, does not apply when snooping on behalf of yourself. Feel free to sneak through closets, attics, and underwear drawers until you have spoiled all surprises for yourself.)

5. If you plan on making Almond Roca toffee, be sure to mix in the almonds before you have the candy all spread out. If you forget this key step, you will feel stupid and angry. This of course is the opposite of Christmas Cheer.

6. Don’t watch Extra with Mario Lopez because you will want to gauge your eyes out and also cut off your own ears. Many have failed to heed this warning and are now sitting by their Christmas tree, without eyeballs or ears. That is no way to spend the holidays.

7. Cobwebs are not an appropriate holiday decoration whether they be real or fake. Take care of them before they take care of you.

8. Presents smaller than a car must be wrapped. And if you are giving someone a car for Christmas you are required to donate one year of your life in service of Santa Claus.

9. December 1st through 31st be aware that your car becomes a “Christmas Music Only Zone.” Respect this law.

10. Do not stay up until 2 A.M. more than three nights in a row. Otherwise your body will stage a mutiny and you will say things you’ll regret like, “I swear if this cold doesn’t go away fast I’m going to rip my nose off.” Obviously breaking this rule while also breaking rule #6 is a dangerous combination.

11. During the holiday season you must have the makings for hot chocolate somewhere in your place of residence. A Christmas without hot chocolate is like Ireland without leprechauns. Scary and depressing.

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12. Generally speaking, you should not make relationship decisions during the holidays. Keanu’s famous words, “Relationships based on extreme circumstances rarely ever work,” are never truer than around Christmas.

13. If you are travelling for the holidays don’t forget to bring your brain along. You can’t pick one of these up at the store, at least not for a reasonable price.

14. More often than not, the smell of poop will over power the smell of pine. And pine is essential for Christmas cheer. Unfortunately the way the world is today with babies and indoor bathrooms, this situation is unavoidable. To increase the odds of pine dominance always wear a small branch of pine needles under your sleeve. Breathe in deeply whenever necessary.

15. Sanitize. Sanitize. Sanitize. And by sanitize I mean chocolate.