ghost of halloween past

halloween is supposed to be all about kids.  all about fun.  all about creativity and candy and costumes and laughing and crap.

well, it's not.  halloween is stressful.  it's chaotic.  it's time consuming.

for me.

i've brought this upon myself, i know.  for some reason i can't just be a normal parent who takes the kids to the store and lets them pick out the costume they want to wear for halloween and call it done.  nope.  that's not even an option.  in fact, they have little to no say in what they will actually dress up as for the big day.

oh wait, this is because there is a family history of anal-ness associated with this holiday.  on both sides.  for me, as a kid, halloween was a beating.  we were members of the country club.  and not those snooty type members who wear sweaters around their shoulders. and sip tea with their pinky finger up.  and talk about how dreadful the prime rib was at last night's gala.  don't you worry.  we were the white trash of the mix.  among others. and there was this costume contest every year.  and i had to win this costume contest every year.  and i had to wear ridiculous costumes to win this costume contest every year.  because every 6 year old girl wants to be a scarecrow for halloween.  and be stuffed with hay.  from a farm. on my bare skin.  because that's not itchy.  and because every 7 year old girl WANTS to be uncle sam for halloween, right?  because every 7 year old girl KNOWS who uncle sam is, right?  right.  you see, i figured out that halloween would be about me when i had my own kids.

and if you think it was bad for me, the aviator's dad was even more anal.  only his costumes were off the chart.  we didn't compete in the same costume contests.  that's not because i'm older than he is and i was in a different age bracket.  like the age bracket that was too old to compete.  because i was too old.  oh, shut up.  and if we'd competed in the same contest, there would have been no contest.  i might have gotten an honorable mention.  at best.  the aviator knows all too well about the discomforts of halloween.  and this is something we wanted to share with our children.  over and over.  and over.

speaking of over... over the years, i may have been just a teensy crazy with big c's costumes.  not so much in year 1.  but that's only because she was 2 months old.  and no fun.

and year 2.  she was just walking.  and it was hot.  and she was still no fun.

but by year 3 of her existence,  it. was. on.

she wanted to be an octopus that year.  she liked the wiggles.  we don't do disney themed characters.

so i taught myself to sort of sew.  and she was an octopus.  and it was fun.  fun.

she had fun.  until she was sick.  fun.

year 4.  i waited until the last minute.  literally.  3:00 halloween.

i do this.  why?

i already knew she was going to be an oompa loompa.  the old school type.  not that new crazy oompa loompa crap with johnny depp and weird stretchy violet beauregard.  70's style.

i had to show her the movie the night before so she would know what she was.  that's good parenting.  she was prepared.

and she was the ONLY oompa loompa.  and every adult knew what she was.  and that's all that matters.

and looking back at these pictures, i can't believe i put regular mary janes on her with this costume.  that's completely out of character.  for me.

year 5.  little c was born seven days before halloween.

mommy was tired.

big c was a princess.

i still kick my own ass for this one.

year 6.  the new had worn off of baby little c.  i had to redeem myself for last year.

marge simpson.  represent.

little c was rocking the stroller.  he was bart.  he wasn't awesome.

and no.  there are no pictures of him.  that's poor parenting.  i know.

the aviator was lisa simpson.  i made his dress and hair too.  there are pictures.  we agreed not to post them.  i want to keep my marriage today.

year 7.  big c had a school parade.  she needed to be a pirate.

mommy was tired.

so tired.

but every little kid was a pirate.  mine had to be different.  authentic.  flashy.

because her personality wasn't enough.

and i halfway made little c a pirate costume.

it really is true about the first child getting all the good stuff.

and subsequent children getting.... well, screwed a little.

kidding.

we all know little c is my baby.  my precious boy.  my heart and soul.

man, those kids are neat.

done.

year 8.  we moved to california.  where store bought costumes cost a million dollars.  or something like that.  the aviator was a sailor at the time.  sort of.

okay, not really.  but he was in the coast guard.  and that's almost a sailor.  and he used to be a sailor.

okay, so i didn't really have a reason for what i did.  who cares?

i made popeye and olive oyl costumes for big c and little c.

see how much fun they're having?

halloween is fun.

and big c.  total tool.

and did i mention that big c is a total tool?

and we might or might not have shown them the cartoon in the week ahead so they would know who they were.  i mean, it's not like i have ever had to do that before.

all the kids were begging to be popeye.  and olive oyl.  trust me on this.

just like every kid wanted to be uncle sam.

redemption.

so you see.  i have put this pressure on myself to make original costumes.  i crave the attention.  i need it.  it's sickening.

year 9.  we moved to florida.  i could just use an old costume.  nobody would know.  nobody knew us before we got here.

yeah right.

this year had to be great.

stay tuned for the big reveal.  i'll see you tomorrow.

trick or treat.

my dimples are a multiply-n.

goodnight.

-dimply stacy

what's a garden gnome?

today is my baby's birthday.  he's 4.  he's not a baby anymore.  but don't tell him that.  he thinks it'll make mama cry.

and oh. my. goodness.  this is the cutest baby in all of the land.  pass me a tissue, please.

just kidding.  i can handle this.

once upon a time, my baby, little c, had chubby legs.  and a chubby face.  and a bad temper.

he doesn't have any of those things anymore.  but i do.  i have all of them.  it's the circle of life.

but back to little c.  he's a real person.  he's smart.  too smart.  it's not good.

nevermind.  he just ate playdough.

it feels like yesterday that we were celebrating his first birthday.  i thought the first year went by so fast.  despite the challenges he threw my way.  like no naps.  and crying. and vomit.  and nursing every 20 minutes.  and no naps.

because, seriously.  look at that precious child.  he. is. WAS. is. perfect.

yesterday we had a birthday party for little c.  it was his first "real" party.  with presents.  and friends.  and presents.  mostly presents.  (and let me add that the greatest thing about inviting friends and family to your child's birthday party, is that you can buy them nothing and they're so overwhelmed with the other gifts that they don't even notice).  deadbeat mom success.

so this party.  it was going to be a quaint little get-together.  low key.  no stress.

i even bought ready-made invitations.

and then i made these because the aviator reminded me that i would be mad at myself if i handed out store bought invitations because i'm sorta anal that way.  go figure.

i made 20 of them.  front and back.  personalized. and every detail was constructed.  i hate myself.

and i baked a few cupcakes.

and decorated a few.

cake balls too.  oh sure, i made more than this.  but i didn't want to serve nasty cake balls to our guests.  it would be rude of me not to sample 2 or 30 of them to make sure they were edible.

because let's face it, you never know when another dimply mom will show up expecting some goodness. and we're new in town.  and i want to make friends.  or bake friends.  or buy friends.  and i was hungry.

you get the idea.

now, for those of you who don't know, we're a tad bit particular when it comes to halloween.  halloween costumes to be specific.  we don't do store-bought.  you see the trend?  it's a curse.  again, i hate myself.

i slaved away at the kidiots' costumes for days.  finished them.  then decided that they shouldn't wear them for the party because they may or may not be white.  and they may or may not be HOT.  long story short... i bought them costumes for the party.  but only to save halloween itself.  so i'm kind of like a savior.  stop it.  you're making me blush.

big c wanted to be a pirate.  target made that happen for $7.  and see how much fun the big kids are having at the party?  $7 was the high end of the costume budget for her.

little c didn't even know what he was.  i picked it out.  i couldn't get him spiderman or ironman.  of course he would've loved them.  but i couldn't chance him being a duplicate.

so he was a garden gnome.  you don't see too many of those floating around.

we had princesses.... the lovely cinderella and snow white.

and ironman, of course.

in fact, we had a little of everything....

except cooperation on the kids' parts.  i blame the parents.

not me though.  i'm a good parent.  i threw this elaborate party for my favorite son.

and invited all of his friends.

and decorated each and every cupcake.

and bought trick candles for him to blow out with a cotton beard that nearly caught on fire.  because i'm awesome.

but it didn't.  so let's move on.

after cake it was time for the pinata.  and let's be honest... we do the pinata to fill the time.  it takes forever.  party success, right?

wrong.  this is little c's second attempt at the monster.  we went through every kid.  including the bigguns.  that damn pinata was bulletproof.  so i did what any good mom would do.  i pulled it apart and let the most athletic kid take the final whack at it.  a time filler shouldn't take an hour.

and kids with candy are kids who i don't have to care for at my home in 20 more minutes.  hooray.

so we went back in and opened presents.  that's what the day is all about after all.

little c only asked for a few things for his birthday:

1. a race car like max drives on max and ruby (and yes, he was told this is a cartoon and it's not real)
2. a bowl with airplanes or helicopters on it.  so he can eat his cereal in it.
3. a lady under a tree
4. a lady under the grass

mimi and poppy (my parents) were in town, and they delivered on #1 and #2.  

and that made little c happy.

as for #3 and #4.... i'm just glad he wanted them buried.  i think.

that kid ain't right.

and i love him to pieces.

happy birthday, little c.  my baby.

now pass me a tissue, dammit.

-dimply stacy

i love sweatpants

my last post was sunday.  here's the deal...

my computer is hiding all of my pictures from me right now.

that means that all of the creative and crafty information that i have to present cannot be displayed without said photos.

and that means that i might have fudged this a little because i've been overwhelmed getting costumes made.

and party planning done.

and entertaining family.

well, not really "entertaining" so much.  they don't like me.

okay, yes they do.

sometimes.

but i like them.

most of the time.

i ate mexican food for lunch and tastee freez for dinner.  with ice cream.  both times.

but it's okay because i bought a new pair of sweats today to accommodate my changing body.

i just know how much the aviator loves to see me in a good pair of sweats.

www.sweatsendmarriages.com

hey, the rangers are playing for the AL championship.

that's baseball for you non-sports lovin', unamerican ding dongs.

sorry.

i'll leave you with this.

i don't care for the yankees.  i don't care if you know this about me.

later.

-dimply stacy

own the mailbox

this is the aviator.

he's handsome.  and dreamy.  and...

i'll stop there because our parents read this blog.

this is what he looks like 90% of the time.

t-shirt.  cargo shorts.  flip flops.  done.

in fact, if he's wearing his wedding ring, he is extremely dressed up.  and uncomfortable.  and mad.  it's not completely his fault that he doesn't wear his ring on a daily basis.  he was born with a freakish "big finger".  and that just means that god blessed him by connecting his ring finger and his middle finger.  and they separated them when he was 3.  and they didn't go down far enough so he has a little web.  so, "it hurts", when his ring weighs down on that.  so he has a free pass.

and that probably just means he hits on every girl he sees because they don't know he's married.  because if a girl sees a ring, she backs off.  no girl would ever dream of talking to a man who has on a wedding ring.

and the aviator has a lot of game.  remember he was going to "french" those girls?

but it doesn't matter because i'm not jealous.  or insecure.  or worried.  and i really don't care about this at all.  which means that i just wasted about 18 seconds of your life.  and it's not relevant to anything i wanted to tell you either.

what i wanted to talk about was the aviator's mom.  my mother-in-law.  grandma.  but little c calls her "rae".  figure that one out and let me know.

my in-laws were in town last week.  my mother-in-law, whom i shall refer to as "rae" from now on, likes to take pictures.  a lot of pictures.  of everything.

everything we do, and everywhere we go is a photo op.  sorry kids.  that dead armadillo could use some company and a smile for rae.

on the friday before they left, the aviator had to go to work.  he wore his uniform.  his trops.  but don't you worry about the aviator and how he must be so uncomfortable tucking in that shirt and wearing a belt.  he'll get his flight uniform soon and it's just a onsie.  casual win.

he had to leave for work around 6:30, and rae wanted to get up early so she could take pictures of him in his uniform.  it's so rare that we see him "dressed up".  then she realized that he would still be wearing his uniform when he got home in the afternoon.  she agreed to wait.

i tried to get her to run errands with me, but she didn't want to chance missing him coming home.  it's all about the picture.

when he walked through the door, he had about 20 seconds to prepare.  for this.

"smile"

there.  that's good.  now you can go change clothes.

"maybe we can take some pictures outside in front of the house?"


hey honey, can you let axel out with you?  thanks.

"that's going to make a great picture!"  she didn't really say that, but that's what the conversation was like in my head.

"i can't see anything on the screen because it's so bright.  one more."

"that's nice.  thank you."


and i got this lovely shot of axel's rear.  you. are. welcome.

now that wasn't so bad, was it?  everyone's happy.

and look, honey.  axel learned how to lift his leg and pee on our mailbox.

high five.

and i have pictures of your mom taking pictures of you.  and that sort of makes me hungry.

but you already know that.

-dimply stacy

you're back down to nothin'

pardon me for a moment while i revisit a familiar topic.  little c and soccer.

yesterday he had another soccer game.  for weeks, it's been touchy.  will he smile?  will he cry?  will he have a damn clue what is going on?  (okay, we all know the answer to the last question is "no", but let's pretend for a moment that he took his non-space-cadet medication and came to the game fully charged, focused and ready to kick some kindergarten tail.)

little c's coach is superman.  for real.  the man carries the world on his shoulders and performs like a champ.  and he handles little c.  and that makes him superman enough.

now remember, little c plays U-6.  and he's not quite 4.  all of the other kids on his team are 5.  in school.  spreading gossip about all the latest trends and what susie wore to school today and what marcus said to jenny before physics class.  and all of those things that 5 year olds talk about.  but not my baby.  not little c.  he's only 3.  so he's perfect.  for one more week.

i'll cut to the chase.

little c scored 2 goals.  2 goals.  yes, i know he's scored 2 goals in a game before.  blah blah blah. but this time, they were BOTH for the right team.  this is huge.  epic even.  and it also brings his personal score back down to zero.  yeah, yeah, there might have possibly been a third goal for the wrong team in there somewhere, but we ain't countin' it.  got it?

and he ran over to the sideline afterwards to make sure we saw it.

"good job, buddy!  i'm so proud of you!"


"i know"

really?  you know?  oh, who cares?  you're so cute.

and then i did what any mom would do in this situation.  i ran up and down the sideline taunting the parents and players of the other team, yelling "eat that 5 year old.  how does it feel?".  i also stuck my tongue out and fist pumped all the while.

and if you think that's bad, the aviator ripped his shirt off and sprinted around the complex.  and tried to high five all the hot moms.

no?

okay, so we just jumped up and down and high fived each other like we'd won the world cup.  it was pretty much the same thing.  i mean, this must be what it feels like to be landon donovan's mom.  you know, because our sons score goals.  while other kids don't.

and then there was a water break,  and supercoach had a pep talk with the team.  it went something like this:

"good job out there, guys.  keep up the hard work.  cash, great goal.  i knew you could do it. give me 5, bud."

wow, little c.  that's a pretty big 5.

um, baby?  you're supposed to hit his hand now.  but it's okay, noah's got it for you.

and this went on for about 2 mintues.  longest high five in history.  little c had to stand up for leverage.

but he was "the man".  and he knew that.

and he got to lead the pack to shake hands with "that other team".  he was like rudy.  minus the notre dame education.  because we don't support notre dame.

and he owned that tunnel.  with a smile on his face.  because that's what tough guys do.

and then we saw a lovely lady trudging through the swampy terrain just off the road that leads us to the highway.  double fisting cigarettes.  so there's that.

then end.

- dimply stacy