Extreme Halloween

I am sitting here alone in the living room eating candy. Not just any candy. I am eating my children’s Halloween candy. Oh calm down, not their special Trick or Treat candy. I am eating their bonus Trick or Treat candy that they collected at my husband’s work place on Friday. Thank goodness that my husband got a job in time for our new tradition of workplace gluttony.


The kids and I arrived at Dave’s work in costume and checked in at the front desk. Where the kids are given a trick or treat bag and a flashlight. Then we walk into a Halloween themed lobby. They have huge blow up decorations pumpkins, spiders, and black cats. There were also bales of hay, cornstalks, and witches. They even had a place to have family Halloween portraits done. I was quite impressed.

We started at Dave’s office and were amazed that each department had decorations and of course lots of candy. We went through pirate coves, haunted houses, science labs, alien space crafts, and horror movies. That was all just on the second floor. These people are all Halloween and candy crazy. We went through three floors of Halloween madness ending up in the café where they had food, drinks, and cookie decorating for the kids. By the end the kids had full candy bags and bellies and were coved in orange frosting. Dave and I were drained and exhausted, how many times can you yell “Say thank you” “Just one piece” “don’t touch that!”? We were done. Unbeknownst to the kids there were three more building to go through in the complex. Three more! The kids already had their weight in candy and we were terrified that the kids might crash from their sugar highs before we got them home.

All and all this office party event was an amazing experience that will for sure make our family’s Halloween Hall Of Fame. Too bad that Dave’s job is only a 4 month contract. Perhaps we can sneak in next year. Don’t worry, we will be wearing costumes.

Mean Girls

Here we are in the Franklin Library. If you are from Franklin Massachusetts you know that our beloved public library is the first lending library in the United States. Here inside the huge stone walls lives the very books that Ben Franklin bestowed upon our quaint country town back in the 1700’s. These same halls with the high ceilings that are currently amplifying Alice’s screams. And now we join our heroine in the midsts of a regular day in her glorious life. Alice is screaming because I have forgotten my wallet and now we have no library card and have just abandoned a pile of books and videos that she cannot bring home.

This all started last night when I was ordering Disney Princess party supplies off of Amazon.com. How can I spend $25.00 on stuff that I am just going to end up throwing away? I can’t complain I found the Pirate supplies at the store for 75% off last week. We are having a Princess and Pirate party in a few weeks. Needless to say I have a lot going on and I left my darn wallet next to the computer.

I didn’t notice that the wallet was gone until late in the afternoon when Alice and I were parked in front of the Library. I warned her that we were only going to be able to drop off and not get anything new. First we went upstairs to return the CDs. I told the nice librarian that I had forgotten my card and she was nice enough to look up the number for me. All I had to do was show her my name and address on my check book. I love living in a small town. I tell Alice that we are all set and that now we can go down stairs to the Children’s’ Room and take out all the books and videos that she wants.

Alice skips down stairs. She has a big smile from ear to ear she loves taking new books from the library. She quickly acquires a pile of books and videos that she can’t live without. She carries the pile to the check out desk where the mean librarian is frowning down at the computer screen.  If you live in Franklin, then you know that for some odd reason the Children's Room in the first public lending library in the USA for some also has the grumpiest surliest librarians in all the 52 States, over the summer the nice one retired (I am not going to describe any of the meanies as anything I say can and will be held against me ). The meanest one is there at the desk. This woman has seen me and my kids once a week for five years. I tell her that I have left my wallet at home and I hand her same checkbook that was happily accepted upstairs. Well things are different down here in the netherworld. She hands me back my checkbook and says with a smirk. “Sorry we need an ID.” She is so not sorry.

I am shocked. I think she is kidding. She knows me and the kids by name. She has rudely reprimanded me for some idiotic library infraction at least once a month for 5 years. She is glaring at me. I try and smile nicely as I say holding up the checkbook. “Come on? Seriously? You know us. We are the only family with this last name in the United States.” She looks down at me with squinted eyes and tightly she looks as though she would love to tear the checks up into confetti and sprinkle them over my head.

“Sorry I need something with a picture.” She says like I am a nine year old trying to buy a twelve pack of beer at a package store. I explain again about not having any ID because I have no wallet. If I had an ID I’d have a library card. I want to yell. I am being as nice as I can under the circumstances. I know that she in fact can check out my materials as the librarian up stairs just did so 10 minutes before. Is it me or is this woman just simply mean? There is a line forming behind us and she takes Alice’s pile away and moves it to the side. I take a deep breath as I know what is coming. I take Alice’s hand and walk out of the children’s’ room into the hall. Here it comes...Alice notices that I am not carrying out her newest treasures. She starts to cry, then wale, then scream. I drag my hysterical blob of a child out to the car only to find that I have left my keys in the library. In my fantasy life I get to sit down next to her on the curb and cry along with her. No such luck. I drag her back into the library, back up the stairs where the nice librarian hands me my keys, then we are back at the car. She cries all the way home and half way back to the library. We end up getting her books after all. The books need to be returned in two weeks and I give myself permission to keep loathing this woman for three.

Doggy Dominatrix

This house is only big enough for one queen and that queen is me. I am the head bitch in charge, I reign and I reign supreme. Well that is the way I thought it was. Until last week when my friend pointed out that my dog Anabel’s bad behavior stems from the fact that she believes that she is lead dog. Yes, my little twelve pound white fluffy doggie believes that she is the Alpha female in charge and that the kids, Dave, and I are her subordinates. I wish that I were kidding. The internet says that in a dog pack “The alpha is the boss who makes decisions for the entire pack”. What have I been driving myself crazy running this family? I guess now that Anabel is in charge that I can just lay in my bed all day reading. The dog can solve all of our problems, drive the kids to school, make dinner, and perhaps start my Christmas shopping while she is at it?


Seriously, this is no laughing matter, my cute little dog honestly believes that she is in charge. I finally understand why she sleeps on our bed and hogs the covers, jumps up on our friends, and is always weaving in and out of our feet when we walk. All of these years I have thought that she was just a bit mentally challenged. We did rescue her from a pet store and all. Now I am dismayed due to the fact that apparently she is fine and I am the one who has been mentally challenged all of these years. Well not anymore, well at least when it comes to dog care. I have recently started dominating Anabel . I make her sit and wait before she leaves or enters the house. I have kicked her out of my bed, I hold her down and growl at her. I even get on all fours and stare her at her until she creeps away with her tail between her legs. I basically treat her like one of the kids. Gone are the days of spoiling her and treating her like my little fluffy baby. No more baby talk, no more indulgences, I am laying down the law and committed to treating her like a dog.

The Truth About Boys and Girls

Alice wants to be like her brother in every way. She rejects frilly dresses and embraces sweat pants and t-shirts, she prefers Sponge Bob over Hanna Montana, and playing in the mud over tea parties. We don’t believe in gender stereotypes and try and allow our kids to be who they are. My daughter is a true individual and we try our best to let her express herself as freely as possible. We try and be understanding of Alice. Like when she went to Christmas service wearing her brother’s old Wiggles pajamas instead of the gorgeous dress that I bought her because the pajamas were her most beloved outfit of the moment. We endured the nasty glares and amused smiles because of the proud look on her face. She was delighted to show off her favorite outfit to the members of our church.


We also allow her to try as many new things as she wants. We let her try music, gymnastics, soccer, art, and swimming classes before she discovered ballet. We let her experiment with food; milk in her soup, mash potatoes and peas in her apple juice, ketchup on her salad. As long as she eats her concoctions we are happy to let her explore. Well, up to a point. Alice’s has been telling me for a few weeks now that she wants to be like her brother and pee in the woods. I think that all women everywhere need to know how to relieve their bladders outside solely for emergency reasons only. I assumed that I would teach Alice how to go outside when such an emergency presents itself. I had such emergency on Thursday when Alice and I were walking Anabel our dog in our Neighborhood. Our neighborhood consists of two streets that make a number 6. Our house is on the left side of the circle. Alice and I were walking up by the tip of the 6 past the houses and into a sandy rocky area. Alice said “Momma I pee woods now?”

I responded. “Can’t you wait until we go home?” She started dropping her pants which I took to mean that she could not wait. I started to explain the fine art of the outdoor potty stance. But Alice wasn’t listening she was too busy peeing down her legs.

“Honey what are you doing?” I yell as calmly as I can in the situation. Alice replied matter of factly.

“I peeing like Dylan.” I look at my daughter and notice that she is kind of leaning back and pushing her little rumpus forward. She doing a great job of copying the way her brother pees. Well except for one little thing. I pull up her wet sweat pants and on the wet walk home I explain once again about the difference between boys and girls. Well one “little” difference in particular.