The Elf is Back

                         
The day after Christmas, Green Peppermint came back. Green Peppermint is our elf. Our elf that I f*cking despise. My hatred for Elf on the Shelf is no secret. In fact, people send me Elf on the Shelf memes all year long because I am the go-to person for hating Elf on the Shelf.

I was trying to have my act together this year, so the week before Thanksgiving I went through all of our stuff and tracked down where we hid the elf. Then, I put him in a secure location. I composed a "welcome back" letter. It went something like this: "I came back to spy on you assholes, so you better behave or I'm going to tell Santa and you will get coal. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Just kidding. I wanted to write that but instead I stole an idea from Pinterest aka the website inspiring mom guilt and setting unrealistic expectations since 2010.
                              
I decided that he would bring Christmas doughnuts for breakfast the morning after Thanksgiving. I woke up at 5 am on Black Friday to secure the doughnuts before my daughter woke up. That's right - 5 in the morning. I tiptoed down the stairs and out the door and drove to Dunkin Donuts. I pulled up to the drive thru, barely awake.
"Can I help you?"
I leaned out my car window. "Yes. Can I have 2 Christmas doughnuts?"
"We don't have those yet."
                     
The stores have had Christmas decorations up since Halloween, they have been playing 24/7 Christmas carols on the radio for 2 weeks and it is after Thanksgiving and Dunkin Donuts doesn't have Christmas doughnuts? What the actual hell?

If I was the manager of Dunkin Donuts, I would be like, "This Friday is Black Friday. People are going to be up early. They are driving by our location to get to the mall. They are ready to start their Christmas shopping and kicking off the Christmas season. Let's offer them some peppermint mocha, doughnuts with red and green sprinkles, Christmas music...."

But I'm not the manager of Dunkin Donuts so what the f*ck do I know? I looked at the menu and saw donuts featured that had crushed candy canes sprinkled on top. Gross. "Do you guys have these candy cane doughnuts?" I asked.
"Yes," the lady replied.

She just told me they had no Christmas doughnuts yet I would say that crushed candy cane doughnuts would fall under that category. Bless this girl, she was not the sharpest tool in the shed. So I ordered the doughnuts and drove home. I arranged them on the dining room table with the letter and I sat up the elf.

I paid $35 for the damn elf on the shelf and they didn't even make him posable. You have to fight with him to get him to sit up or prop him up. He could at least have Velcro hands. No. It's felt, a bean bag and a plastic head. For what I paid, I think they could have put some wire in his legs. What a cheap piece-of-shit. I mourn for the $35 that I'll never get back.  These Elf on the Shelf people are laughing their way to the bank.

The other day I saw one of these at the store:
                
                  So now Jewish moms get be tortured too. Equal opportunity.

Anyway, my kids woke up and were delighted to see the elf and they ate the disgusting doughnuts.  You are probably surprised that I went through such trouble for the elf reveal this year. It is so unlike me. Well, it was mom guilt. A few weeks ago my daughter said to me, "My friend's elves do really cool things and our elf only moves." Well, if all your friend's elves jumped off a bridge would you want our elf to too? As moms, can't we just all agree to move our elf from one shelf to another? PLEASE.

Since he came I did have him draw a face on one of the pumpkins that I had sitting on the counter. Otherwise, he's just moved here to there. I went to bed early with a horrible headache last night and didn't move him until the kids left for school this morning. I don't even care if they noticed. I threw him in the Christmas tree and watched him from the couch as I sipped my coffee.
                                   
                              He's always watching me with his smug grin. He is the WORST EVER.

The funniest part about this whole charade is that neither of my kids believe in Santa or the elf. The only difference is that my oldest admits to it and my youngest will not. We are in a stand off right now. I know she doesn't believe in Santa or the elf and she knows that I KINDA know but it is an unspoken truth.

She drops hints that she doesn't believe and she wants me to just come out with it and tell the truth but I WILL NOT. She says stuff like, "Magic doesn't exist" or when I threaten to tell Santa about her shit attitude, she says, "Whatever." It's great. I called the Santa hotline and put it on speaker. She put her hand on her hips and rolled her eyes.

But what if she finally does admit it? Then NONE of my children will believe. Will we still leave out cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve? Will it be any fun at all? I'll tell you one thing - once she admits it, I'm going to make the elf be bad. Next year this will be my elf:
                          
                         
                         
Right now though, I'm just a mom...doing time....at Christmastime...with the elf....on the shelf....putting up a charade....

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

                         
Thanksgiving came and went, again. We eat Thanksgiving dinner at dinnertime so we didn't have anywhere to be until 4 pm. I woke up around 7:30 that morning to make a big breakfast. I scrambled eggs, made sausage, toast and a fruit salad. I laid everything out buffet-style. No one was awake. Unlike my children, I'm not an asshole and just wake others up whenever I feel like it. I let them sleep and I made myself a plate. I ate alone.

The one time I want all the people to get up early and bother me, they don't. I wanted to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The problem was that is that we don't have cable. I checked which sites were streaming the parade and I saw that Youtube was doing a live stream. I clicked on it and watched the elaborate floats, balloons and marching bands go by as I sat under a comforter and sipped a cup of coffee.

Around 9:45 the rest of my family decided to join me. I instructed them to heat up the breakfast I cooked 2 hours ago and come watch the parade with me. They were talking crap about the parade that I didn't appreciate. "Who would stand out in the cold to watch this? This is boring!" "Look at those balloons -they don't even do anything!" What do you want them to do? They are balloons. "Stop raining on my parade, " I told them - pun intended.

After 2 hours the stream ended and the screen flashed, "THANK YOU FOR WATCHING THE 2015 MACYS THANKSGIVING DAY PARADE." That's right - I watched last year's parade for 2 hours. I was a little disappointed. My husband shrugged, "Well, you wanted to watch a parade and you did, so...."

We decided that we were going to take the kids to the movies. We went to go see Arrival, which was really good but heartbreaking. I walked out of the theater feeling broken inside. "Did you like the movie?" my daughter asked. I nodded, "Yes, but I feel like my soul is fractured." Go see it at your own risk. Geez.

Soon it was time to go. We picked up my brother and headed to my mom's house for dinner. It was so good. There was a cheese and cracker spread, my world famous deviled eggs, turkey, cranberry, stuffing, green bean casserole, 8 pies. We stuffed ourselves silly.

Then we went around and told everyone what we are thankful for. I have SO much to be thankful for - my husband, my children, my health, my LIFE.

After dinner, we sat in the living room and played games. We talked about our various Thanksgiving memories. We can't do that without re-telling the diarrhea-from-hell story. My youngest sister told me to tell the story to her boyfriend that had never heard it. I indulged them all.

"It was the day after Thanksgiving when I was 16. The entire family- 30 of us- went to lunch at my grandmother's sister's house. It was a small row home in Philly. I was not feeling well, my stomach was churning and I was sure someone-something- was stabbing me in the abdomen.

Suddenly, it hit me. I made it to the bathroom just in time. Her house had ONE bathroom and the door didn't lock. The toilet had a blue, cushioned seat with a crack on the side. It was like an eruption equivalent to Mount Vesuvius. I was up there for a while as Satan ran through me. It was horrible. So, I'm sitting there on the toilet, pants at my ankles, shaking in a cold sweat and my aunt swings open the door. She walks in, and starts having a conversation with me.

"Are you okay, honey? Do you need me to get a glass of water?" I was mortified. She was looking me in the eyes and trying to have a conversation with me while this vile spew exploded out of me. I wanted to jump out of the window and kill myself. I was so embarrassed. Then she PATTED me on the knee and left. I shuddered. I could never face her ever again. I knew she was going to go downstairs and tell the entire family about what she had just witnessed. That experience changed who I am as a person, it killed my soul."

"After, I laid down on the couch. My stomach churned. I wanted to go to the hospital. My mother came in and demanded that I go outside so they could take a family picture. I refused. If I stood up, I was sure I would poop myself. She yelled at me."

It was horrible. I was traumatized. I still shudder at the thought of that horrible experience. People enjoy the story though, it's funny -so when asked, I tell it. Who am I? I have no shame. I don't care.

That night while we laid in bed, my husband turned to me. "How many times in my life do I need to hear that diarrhea story?"
"What do you mean?"
"I've heard it like, a million times. Get a new story."
"I was ASKED to tell it. I didn't volunteer."
"It's gross."
"You're gross. I'm going to bed now. I need to get up early tomorrow because of the elf."

And that was Thanksgiving.

Get Up, Come On Get Down With the Sickness

                           
This week has been crazy. Don't I say that every week? It's because I MEAN it. Every week is insane. We have been doing our regular running around except with a sick kid this week. On Wednesday, I got home from dropping my youngest off at gymnastics and the house was quiet. I called upstairs to my daughter and got no answer. It was unlike her. I went into her room and she was buried under the covers, sleeping. I stirred her awake. "You have dance in an hour and a half."
"Mom, I don't feel good. I feel achy and I have a headache."
I made her a cup of tea, gave her some ibuprofen and emailed the studio to let them know that she wouldn't be at class. She woke up at 7:30, took a hot shower, powered through her homework and went straight to bed. She didn't have a fever, she just felt crappy.

The next morning, she complained that she was achy and barely ate breakfast. She insisted that she was well enough to go to school. Still no fever, she just felt yuck. I figured that if she felt well enough to go to school that she wasn't THAT sick. That evening she seemed okay but she went to bed early. Same thing the next day. She woke up feeling like shit, still no fever. Insisted she felt well enough to go to school, didn't want to miss the school dance. I let her go.

That evening on the way home, she looked like death. Tired, pasty, and miserable. She ate dinner, took a hot shower and went right to bed. On Saturday, she was really lethargic. She had a low grade fever, 99.1. She was eating and drinking okay but spent most of the day sleeping. I felt terrible for her. My youngest had a gymnastics competition 3 hours away at the butt crack of dawn on Sunday morning so we had to travel.

I hated to do that to her, but my husband was away and I couldn't leave her. I gave her medicine before we left. She put the seat all the way down and wrapped herself in her comforter and slept on the way. My youngest sat in the backseat with headphones stuffed in her ears and was antisocial. Typical.

We got to the hotel around 9:30. We were all exhausted. I tucked my 12 year old into her sick bed and I shared a bed with my 10 year old, which she complained about. "I don't want to be near you. Gross." She is so mean. In spite of not wanting to be near me, she was on me ALL NIGHT LONG. She wrapped her arms around my neck. She kept trying to put her leg on top of me. It was super annoying.

We were up at 6 am to get ready for the competition. My oldest said she was feeling better but I still gave her medicine for good measure. My 10 year old informed me that she was only going to let her sister do her hair because, "She can do a better job than you, mom."
                                
We got to the gym and she started warming up. She looked so cute her in sparkly leotard. She'd better, it cost a damn arm and a leg. We watched as she competed her events. Watching her compete is so nerve racking. My heart pounds and I get so nervous. It's hard to watch -especially when she is on the beam. She didn't compete in bars and her scores were a little lower than what she is used to, so she was bummed. I thought she did great. It was the first meet of the season, she has was out of commission for 9 weeks with a broken finger, she switched gyms and had to learn new routines. I was proud of her. She works really hard. She has 10 more competitions to go...

I told her that she could pick a place to eat for lunch on the way home. She chose Subway, which is disgusting. She wanted to eat in a Subway in a gas station. I was like, "No. I might not have high standards but I have SOME standards." We found a free standing Subway and had lunch before making the trek home.

My 10 year old had shot gun on the way home. She wanted to play her music from the playlist on her phone. I let her, which I quickly regretted. She was trying to play some trifling rap music. I was like,
                          
"How do you know about this music?" She rolled her eyes at me. "Everybody likes this music, mom." Some Black Beatles, Purple Lamborghini, Broccoli, No Type, JuJu on That Beat. It's all crap but at least it was a reprieve from Twenty One Pilots. They always make me listen to Twenty One Pilots. I could sing the entire album in my sleep. They have PLAYED IT OUT.

I used to bitch that the kids made me listen to their baby CDs over and over again but it's equally annoying to hear their big-kid songs in a loop.

After I endured 3 hours of horrible music, we finally arrived home. It was late afternoon and my oldest was starting to feel bad again. Achy, pale, and exhausted with a low grade fever.

I put my foot down. "You are staying home tomorrow to rest. If you get worse, I'm taking you to the doctor."
She protested, "No, mom. I'm fine."
"You are not fine. You've been ill. You need to rest and recuperate. I'm keeping you home."
"It doesn't matter. I'm well enough to go to school. I can't miss. I have to learn all the things and I can't miss jazz band. We only have it one day this week. Mom- I HAVE to go." Then she started to cry. Sobbing.
"I'll email your teachers. You can miss jazz band one time. It's not the end of the world."
She looked up at me with tears streaming down her face. "Mom, I HAVE to go."
"End of discussion!!!!" She gave me a dirty look but didn't protest again. She knew I wasn't going to cave.

She slept in today. I made her tea and soup. She took a hot bath and rested ALL DAY. She needed it. She was feeling much better this afternoon. She won't give me the benefit of the doubt, though. "I still could have went to school." I don't know if I EVER liked school that much. Bless her.

Christmas Is Coming

                            
Christmas is coming. I hate to mention that before Thanksgiving but it's true. The stores have their decorations out and they are already playing 24/7 Christmas songs on the radio. Resistance is futile.

Last Christmas was a f*cking nightmare. Which, I forgot about until my 12 year old reminded me the other day. "Remember last Christmas when we didn't get to eat Christmas Eve dinner until 9:00 at night and you forgot to get a gift for the dog and me and dad had to do that?"

I had forgotten. Like childbirth, I only remembered the good parts. My memory was jogged. Last year, we ordered all new appliances for the kitchen and there was an issue with the order and they wound up getting delivered the afternoon of Christmas eve. They couldn't get the fridge inside so they had to TAKE OFF my front door. They couldn't install the stove because we used the cord from the old stove. My husband had to figure it out. The waterline to the dishwasher broke. I was terrible.

After our appliances finally were in place, my husband discovered that I never purchased a gift for the dog and he took the kids to Target to buy her one. They acted so offended that I didn't buy her one. I was like, "She's a DOG. She's not one of our children. She doesn't have higher thinking, she doesn't understand the concept of Christmas."
They looked at me like I was some kind of asshole.

While they were at Target, I made dinner and then had to hand wash all the dishes after because the dishwasher was broken. It was unacceptable. *First World Problems*

Somehow, one of my younger child's gifts never made it under the tree. They only get 4-5 gifts so that mattered. I found it in the garage two weeks later and had to pretend like Santa forgot it and came by the house to amend his mistake. I am a terrible mother. I hate myself.

In my defense, it was CRAZY last year. We brought the house around Halloween, went on our cruise a few weeks later, then it was Thanksgiving, concerts, tree lightings, parades, performances, gymnastic competitions, parties, my oldest got sick. I was barely keeping my head above water.

This year, I've vowed to be different. I am already ON POINT. I've finished all of my Christmas shopping for the girls including their stocking stuffers. I've purchased gifts for the cats and dogs. I've gotten gifts for my nieces and nephews. I've even done my Christmas cards.

I am going to ENJOY this Christmas season and not stress. Plus, I have a fully functioning kitchen- so I have that going for me.

The kids gave me their list earlier this month. My youngest wants anime merchandise and clothes. My oldest asked for Nirvana and Green Day t-shirts. I was like, I didn't know we were still living in 1994. She also asked for a $55 sweatshirt that I will not get her. Seriously? No sweatshirt is worth $55. It was probably made by an 11 year old in Bangladesh. Just because it has some stupid brand on it, it's $55. NO.

I don't want her to be disappointed on Christmas morning but she doesn't believe in Santa anymore. I'm not ruining any magic. She will have a lot of gifts that she will LOVE and I'm confident that she'll be happy but I don't always get my kids EVERYTHING on their list. They are spoiled enough as it is and I won't feel bad about it. Christmas is not about getting gifts. I never have and never will go broke to give my kids Christmas. I'll report back on her level of sulking about not getting a $55 sweatshirt for Christmas.

My husband and I usually just get 1 gift, which we let the girls pick out. The other week, I was sweeping the floor and my husband said to me, "You really need a new broom. I'm going to buy you one for Christmas." He was joking, but there was some seriousness in his voice. "What's wrong with my broom?"
"Look how old and ratty it is," he replied.
"Are you really going to get me a broom for Christmas? That's kind of sexist."
"If you think that's sexist, I was also going to get you an apron that says, 'I KNOW MY PLACE' on it."
I laughed, "Gee! That's what I always wanted!"

I knew what I wanted for Christmas and then I forgot. I remember thinking, That's what I need! But that is it. It totally slipped my mind. I was very disturbed that I forgot what it was that I wanted. Then, the other day, I was looking for a safety pin and I went to where I keep my sewing supplies and I remembered. I wanted a new sewing box! My old sewing box cover came off and it was dingy and ripped and now all my stuff is in a jumble in a gallon size plastic bag. I do mending and sewing projects at least once a week (I love it almost as much as de-fuzzing) and it would be nice to have a new one.

I was so excited to tell my husband.
"I remembered what I want for Christmas!"
"What?"
"A new sewing box!"
"You can't be serious."
"I am. I need one. Have you seen my sewing stuff lately?"
"How can I tell people that I got my wife a sewing box for Christmas? That is just unacceptable."
"It's not. I want it. I am a very practical woman. There is nothing else that I need."
"You need a new broom."
"If you get me a new sewing box then I will accept the broom."

Rambling

My ass is tired. Not just tired, EXHAUSTED. My husband was in Germany for 2 weeks for work, so I've been a one-man show. He just got back last Friday night and is leaving today and won't be back until Thanksgiving. Boo! I have a brand new respect for single mothers (and fathers, I'm equal opportunity). I seriously don't know how people do it on their own long-term. That sh*t is hard.
                                    
                                    Single parents - the real MVPs!

It's was an especially crazy few because we had a Halloween, I took my daughter to Charlotte to see the US gymnasts, a state marching band competition, I had a bunch of meetings to attend (note to self: stop being involved in things), a sick dog and all the other every-day soul sucking sh*t like making meals, trying to keep the house clean, shuffling the kids to activities, my kids having their usual nervous breakdowns about nothing....

It was difficult keeping in touch with my husband because the time difference was brutal. His work schedule was crazy and the times when he could call did not jive with our schedule. He'd be trying to Facetime me at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. I was shuffling the kids around and trying to start dinner. "Can you call me back in 3 hours?" I asked. "The kids aren't even home."
"It's going to be 1 am. I'll be sleeping."
"Can you just call on Saturday?"
"That's in 3 days."
So, basically - I'm an asshole. I know that I am.

He'll be on eastern standard time for this trip, so it will be better. Regardless, it's been nice to have him home this week.

Things have felt out of synch. It's been busy and he's been adjusting to being back in the states. The kids had off from school on Tuesday which threw me for a loop. All week, I've been like, What day is it?

The children have been well. My youngest is getting ready for her first gymnastics competition of the season next week so she's been on edge. She's been all over the place. She's up and down, sweet and evil, happy and sad all at once. Holy hormones, Batman!

There is a new boy hanging around my house. T-man is has been out of the picture for quite a few weeks now. On Friday, I came home from dropping off my youngest from gymnastics and noticed a pair of large, red Air Jordans sitting by my front door. I walked in to my living room and there was my husband on the sofa across from my daughter and a boy on the love seat.
                           
"Hey mom!" my daughter grinned. I gazed over at the boy. I know this kid. Let's call him Blue Eyes. Nice looking kid, smart, comes from a good family. I know his mother.

"Hello, Blue Eyes."
"Hello."
"Would you like anything? A bottle of water? A snack?"
"No, ma'am."
I knew with every shred of my being that there was no way in hell that his mother knew that he was in my house, sitting on my couch next to my daughter at 4 pm in the afternoon. She would have called, verified that adults were home, had a discussion about it with me.
"So, Blue Eyes - does your mom know you are here?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Are you sure?"
He looked really nervous. "Yes."
"Are you telling me the truth? You are absolutely sure she knows you are at a GIRL'S house right now?"
He nodded, "Yes. I texted her but I am going to another friend's house after this."

He left a short time later. I turned to my daughter, "Did his mom really know?"
She shrugged, "I think so."
             

The next day, we attended a community event and I ran into his mother. Sure enough, she had no idea that he was at my house. DON'T TRUST KIDS. It is not my intention to get kids in trouble but moms of older kids HAVE GOT to look out for each other. If someone sees my kids doing something they're not supposed to be doing or being somewhere they aren't supposed to be - I hope they tell me. We live in such a small community that it is hard to get away with anything. I'm sure they still will because, let's face it, kids are sneaky and manipulative - but it does make it harder.

I know people think that I shouldn't let my daughter hang out with boys. I get judged. I have always told my children that anyone is allowed in my home, if there is a parent home. I don't care who they are or what they look like. Boys, girls, kids with blue hair. Kids whose parents might have different values from my own. Everyone is welcome in my house. I will feed them and be kind to them. As my kids get older, and become teenagers - I want my house to be a hangout. A safe place for my kids and their friends. I would much rather have that then my kid in someone else's house- or an empty house for that matter.

That means that sometimes there are boys that sit on my couch next to my daughter. That means that sometimes there are screaming girls upstairs, making messes. That means we might have 18 little girls sleeping over on New Years Eve. That means that 3 teenagers might show up at my doorstep within an hour of us getting home from evacuating from a hurricane.

I understand how important friend's are at this age. That is how it works. All of my daughters friends are turning 13 and she'll be a teenager in 8 months herself. That is weird to think about- ME having a teenager. I'm not dreading it though. I think it will be fascinating to watch my daughters come of age. Especially because this time will parallel my own transitions.

I am definitely experiencing my own identity crisis right now. I have surrendered myself to it and pray for answers to be revealed to me. I definitely struggle with balancing my own needs with those of my children. As my children have gotten older, it has challenged my ideas of who I am as a mother, and what my role is. What was once black and white is now gray. There is this pushing and pulling that I never had anticipated. I struggle with who I want to be, and how to balance motherhood with being a wife and a professional woman. I struggle with the fact that I assumed this parenting gig would get easier as time went on. I thought I would have things figured out by now. I struggle with being a failure at not being able to figure out how to have it all. I've been blindsided by how much my children need me as they've gotten older. It's like being broken up into different pieces and trying to figure out how they all fit together.

This motherhood gig is beautiful and wonderful but it certainly isn't easy.

Halloween

                              
Halloween came and went again. The night before, we carved Jack O'Lanterns - our yearly tradition. My husband is in Germany for work and it seemed different without him, but we were in good spirits. I let each girl carve their own pumpkin. I am in charge of the gunk. They are damn divas and won't stick their hands inside of a pumpkin. "Ewwww!!! That's gross."
                                        
Whatever. Little do they know, one day when they have kids they'll get to clean up mountains of vomit. Sticking their hand inside a pumpkin will be easy-peasy after that.

After I cleaned out the gunk, they got to work on their designs while I sat at the table and separated the pumpkin seeds from the pulp. We put on our Halloween playlist and sang along to Lotion, Thriller, The Monster Mash...we were getting into the spirit.

The kids didn't want to just carve faces. Nope- that would be too easy. My oldest wanted to carve a skeleton and my youngest wanted to carve the symbol from Fairy Tail, which is this obscure anime show that she likes. Seriously, I walk into my bedroom sometimes and hear Japanese. My kids are weird.

We were having a great time until a vital piece of my 10 year old's design came off while she was carving. The freak out was epic. She threw down her knife and screamed, "THIS IS CRAP!!!" and began to cry. I was completely unprepared.
           
I accessed the damage. "It doesn't look that bad. You can't even tell."
"Yes you CAN! It doesn't even look like Fairy Tail anymore!!!"
"No one knows what that is except for you. It's a Japanese show."
"THEY KNOW WHAT IT IS!!!!"

Whoa! I had to come up with a solution- and quick- to tame the beast. "Let's save the piece that fell off and I can just hot glue it, maybe duct tape it...try some super glue maybe." She thought about it for a moment and gave me a look like she knew I was full of sh*t but she fell for it. "Okay. Just save that piece." I didn't, I knew it was a lost cause. Bad Mom Award.

They did a good job.

After we cleaned up, I made us hot chocolate and dessert and we sat down to watch Sleepy Hollow. Yes, things are different this year. My 12 year old declared. "Johnny Depp is HOT!!!"
Excuse me?
"Gross. He is the same age as your GRANDFATHER. Actually, he's 3 months older than your grandfather. That's weird."
She rolled her eyes at me. "I love Johnny Depp, mom. Get over it."

I guess it's not that weird. Johnny Depp was adorable in that movie. When I was 12, I wanted to marry Liam Neeson who was like, 45. He did it for me.
                                         
                                                         That's a man, right there.

I was also strangely attracted to the actor that played Jesus from Jesus Christ Superstar. I felt conflicted about it. I probably should have confessed to the priest and said some Hail Marys.
                                    
                                                        Look at those luscious locks. Jesus-style.

I knew a lady who had a crush on Jimmy Carter when she was in middle school. Haha. It could be worse.

Anyway, aside from the off-color comment from my 7th grader about Johnny Depp, it was nice evening.

The next day was Halloween. The kids came home from school so excited to go trick or treating. My oldest was supposed to go as Harley Quinn with T-man. As expected, her and T-man stopped hanging out and so she decided that she was going to go as a skull instead. I was pissed about it. "Dude! I spent $40 on your costume that you insisted on."
"Well, you're not going to have to spend any MORE money." Pain in the ass.

She came downstairs with a black dot on her nose and 3 lines on each cheek. I was not happy. "Seriously? What is this?"
"I'm a cat."
"You don't even have a tail."
She shrugged.
I was annoyed. "People are going to think you are too old to go trick or treating. Put some effort in or you are wearing the Harley Quinn costume OR you will not trick or treat."
She stomped upstairs but did as she was told. She is super talented with makeup and did an awesome skull face with a flower headband. "Much better."

My youngest's costume was on point. She looked adorable. A friend of mine came over with her 10 year old to trick or treat and we ran into some other friends. It was a great night. Our neighborhood is amazing on Halloween. My kids don't even know how good they have it.

We walked what felt like 10 miles and by the end of the night my girls had pillow cases FULL of candy. "Are you guys going to share some with me?" I asked. They were indignant. "No!" What they don't know is that I eat that sh*t when they are at school. Today I enjoyed a Snickers bar, a Kit Kat, AND an Airhead. BWHAHAHAHA!!!