Boo Humbug

I officially hate Halloween. A perfect storm developed this evening in that we had A) a child likely too young to be trick-or-treating at all, B) said child has a love affair with doors and C) said child was off his schedule and way over-tired. What we had was a cranky pirate.

Mandie and Phil brought Jazmine over to partake of the Bexley trick-or-treat goodness at 5:30. She was an adorable cat and got the concept right away. Jack, with his love of doors, tried to break and enter every place we attempted to visit, starting with our next door neighbors, with whom or relationship is fragile at best (and who also think Osi's name is Ollie). When entry was not permitted, there was a screaming hissy fit.

That scene was repeated at the next 4 houses. This escalated (my bad, should have gone home immediately) with me trying to wrestle my kid out of a doorway and tripping over - and subsequently knocking to the ground- an 18-month-old pumpkin. I threw my pirate over my shoulder, surrendered and speed-walked home. The neighbors all stared. We also received no candy, thus virtually failing trick-or-treat on our first attempt.

On a side note, I have a real Central Bexley inferiority complex. I attempted to compensate by giving out full size candy bars. I will report later on whether our house remained un-egged this evening. We may drive a dented CRV and not a BMW, dammit, but we DO give out full size Snickers - we have priorities!

I hate Halloween.

Holy Moly!

So, I have been out of touch. My apologies. I've never understood the term "under the weather." Are we not always "under the weather"? I would hope so. I guess when we are flying "around the weather" or "over the weather" in an airplane then that would be the exception. Either way - that's where I have been. (Under the weather, not in an airplane. Don't I wish it.)

It started as a chest pain that Dr. Mom said was a pulled muscle. My confidence in Dr. Mom, after this week, is waning, let me tell you. In a nutshell, I turned 34 and apparently some of the warranties on body parts started to expire. So, by Monday afternoon, I was a mess, and throwing the nurse practitioner and several doctors in the practice I go to for a loop when they couldn't explain what the hell was wrong with me. At what point they decided it could be a pulmonary embolism, I do not know, but that scared the bejeezus out of me. Since that was the last test they could think of, they chalked it up to a really nasty virus and sent me home (so they wouldn't catch it, methinks).

In other news. the Temple finally axed the incompetent graphic designer and in a bizarre twist asked what I was doing for the next month or so. So it looks like I may be working there on a contract basis for November. Also, I have an interview with the sitter connection for sitter interviewer/scheduler. It has been an interesting few weeks.

Party Hangover

Well, it is one week after Jack's second birthday and I think we may have finally recovered. Talk about an extravaganza. Methinks we went a wee bit overboard. Us? Nooooooo.

Let us begin with the 2 dozen balloons (plus 2 giant music balloons on top of those), three dozen guests (10 of THOSE being under the age of 7) and the hired musical entertainment. FOR THE TWO-YEAR-OLD. Sweet baby Jesus. That's not even mentioning the boatload of birthday booty he accumulated from his very generous birthday guests. It took us three days to open all of the gifts. I think we've committed at least 4 of the 7 deadly sins during the course of this poor kid's birthday. So that was Sunday.

Tuesday, we took cuppycakes (or rather, had Chef Tony prepare cuppycakes, so they would be Kosher Enough) for Jack's class and school. I didn't realize that the first thing they teach you at preschool is how to lick the icing off of a cupcake. All of these kids, ages ranging 12 to 36 months, did it quickly and with dexterity. Isabella had her cupcake naked and faked a drop to get another one. I knew I liked her. There was a special birthday hat that Jack wanted nothing to do with, but which Sam was happy to wear. Sam, apparently, is the designated class hat-wearer. There was singing and much joy in the land. That was Tuesday.

Jack's actual birthday was Wednesday. This was marked with birthday cake for breakfast, a trip to the zoo, a baby grand piano from Mommy and Daddy and dinner with the Crattys at Red Robin. In other words, pretty low key. I think next year we will reanimate the dinosaurs from extinction and offer free rides in the backyard. I'd better get crackin'.