My husband had a trip that he needed to take for business and I was so excited to be going. Our children were little and I was also nervous because I had to leave them behind. As a mother who was used to being there every hour with her kids it was a two-pronged situation, I both needed the break and also I didn’t want to leave them. (It’s very codependent, whatever!!! I’m not trying to pretend that I am super healthy here) I leave my children, who were probably like “Phew that stress ball is finally out of the house we can all relax….To the Dingle…I’ll grab the jump-ropes!!!!”

So my husband and I drive up to Connecticut and it is the beginning of the foliage season. Its lovely! We get to the hotel and I am looking at this amazingly quaint building. We walk inside and there are the other people who know my husband from work and they are all talking. I am listening to them at first and then something on the table catches my eye. I am not sure if I have situational ADHD or if what my husband talks about for business is exceptionally boring….but there it is on the table a little pamphlet that states “Have you seen the lady in white?”

I, being a reader of all things, wander over to this literary wonder and have to find out what it is all about. The picture on the front appears to be a photograph from the nineteen-fifties, so you know the quality is superb. As I look at this grainy photo I realize that the lady in white is the resident ghost.

Okay, I think it’s pretty clear what I am thinking right now, “Hey a ghost resides here and I do not feel there is room for both of us!!!!” I feel my mouth go dry. My heart is pumping my blood so that I have enough in my veins so that I can run away. I stare at this picture and I am trying to convince myself that it is a hoax. It can’t be real!!! I once had this conversation with my youngest, “I thought you said to me that ghosts aren’t real!” (because sometimes parents need to get some sleep.)

“I did! But I don’t want to hurt their feelings on the off-chance that I am wrong! So ghosts aren’t real, but I believe in them, so that they don’t suffer from self-esteem issues! After all I would want the ghosts to believe me if people told them that I wasn’t real! They would be like, Becki don’t worry we believe in you!”

My youngest, who was seven at the time, “You’re so crazy mom!” she and I both laugh.

So now I hear someone from the faint distant calling my name. My husband is standing there with people who he does business with and I am over by the side table choking this pamphlet having a doozy of a panic attack. I look over at him wide-eyed and I can feel that I am trying to smile but by their response it isn’t working well. My smile is paralyzed into a pursed lipped snarl because I am trying to smile but mostly I am baring my teeth at them. So at this point as I am trying to meet these people that I wanted to impress, but instead I am coming across as a deranged lunatic. Because the blood is rushing in my ears and my throat is all constricted when I try to speak up I shout “I FOUND THIS!” I lift up my fist that is holding what used to be a pamphlet, but is now more of a wad of colorful paper.

My husband looks at me with this look of “Oh shit! What the fuck did she just find?” I can tell that he is both embarrassed and concerned.

One of the ladies at the front desk calls a name and everyone in the group was just happy that someone broke the tension. They all go about their business and my husband walks over to me with the familiar look of scolding a child when they are touching something they shouldn’t, but also trying to come across as compassionate so that the room doesn’t think you are an asshole.

“Becki, put that down!” He says in a whisper of hot breath

“It’s haunted!” I wheeze. “The whole fucking town is haunted by this lady who was murdered or something.”

I show him the crumple mass of colorful paper. He unfolds it and reads it a little.

He smiles at me and says “Cool! Do you think we’ll see her?”

I can’t believe what he is saying right now. No I don’t want to SEE her. I don’t even think we should be here right now. I now am noticing that this beautiful building, which looks like a revamped barn, is more menacing than anything else. Oh sure they put luxurious furniture and pieces of art in there. But this is the sight of some horrific mass murder and this lady in white is telling us that we are not safe. Why else would they turn an old barn into a hotel? It’s to lure unsuspecting and weary travelers into their lair so that they can have their pick of victims. I mean it may as well be called the Bates Motel.

“What are you talking about?” he asks

“Oh, did I say that out loud?” I think

“Yes!” damn it, that isn’t in my head either?

“NO and neither was that.” He grabs me by my elbow and says “You need to get some fresh air!” and he guides me outside, “And you need to stop shouting your thoughts!”

I look at him and I say “This place, the whole fucking town is haunted!” I lift my hand and there is nothing in it any more because my husband has removed the propaganda from my hand.

“Becki, they put stuff like that out for people who enjoy that sort of thing. It’s not real! Did you even look at that picture? It was horrible. It looked like a simple case of double exposure!” my husband learned the term “double exposure” just for times like these. He has had to talk me off of many a ledge in his time with me. He read up on double exposure and he uses it, often even when it doesn’t apply, to settle my nerves.

I look at him and I breathe because I am losing this battle and I can tell. “Fine! You’re right! It is probably not real.” I’m lying because he wants me to. He wants me to go into this amazingly haunted hotel and live my last night on earth in total fear. Whatever, fine! I’ll stay in your super haunted barn, in this stupid haunted town, with the ugly lady in white who is probably looking for some young beautiful mom of three to possess. I am exactly her type. Thanks honey, Now I am going to be possessed and it is all your fault!!!

I go inside with the wisdom of my untimely possession soon to befall me and I am going to make the most of it. We finally get into our room and it is gorgeous. Of course it is, it’s a trap! They want you to be distracted by the huge luxurious bed and the soft robe that I may now be wearing even though I don’t remember ever putting it on. Shit it’s happening! My will is being taken over by the lady in white. I gulp because I see the look on my husband’s face.

“You are not being taken over by the lady in white. You just said, look at this robe and put it on over your clothes. Also stop narrating your crazy, we don’t all need to know!” He walks into the bathroom because he needs to prepare for his big night. I realize that I am causing him more stress than is needed.

I say my prayers and I am like “You got this, right Jesus?” and I am ready to behave myself. Less like the lunatic that I usually am.

My husband comes out and I see the look of horror on his face.

“What?” I say.

“Don’t read the book in the bathroom. It’s not for you!”

I run into the bathroom and I read the book, naturally because it is a book and it is forbidden, so yes it is for me. Duh!

“I just said not to read that book.” he said

“I only read a little bit, why would they turn this place into a hotel after a family was killed here?” I ask.

“I don’t know. But seriously Becki, don’t make too much out of it. People stay here all of the time.”

I start to sing “Hotel California” because it seems appropriate!

He starts to laugh and then before we know it we are both laughing and joking. When I met my husband he had taken me to see “Silence of the Lambs” he didn’t know me then. He had a rude awakening as to my true nature after that movie when he was trying to coax me into his truck to drive me home. I was all “I don’t really know you that well. I think I will just take the bus home thank you very much.”

We talk about that night and laugh some more about how he eventually got me to get into his truck I made him drive with he interior lights on for the whole ride which was extra long because he took the back way because he was driving with the interior lights on. We didn’t have cell phones then so I couldn’t text my friends and tell them to come searching for me if I didn’t make it home that night. I had to just trust this super adorable blonde hair blue-eyed guy who just took me to the worst fucking film I have ever seen. People usually know me better than that. My husband still loves films that scare the piss out of you. I am all like, “yeah no thanks! How about a nice period piece about how women fought for the right to vote!” and we usually compromise and see a movie about super heroes.

Before we know it, it is time to go and do this business dinner. We had such a good time at dinner and we even sit at a table with another young couple who also have kids. The wife and I talk about kids and eventually my husband hears me say “A whole family got murdered right on the property.” He grimaces because he knew me better than to think I would let it go.

The other woman listened intently as I retell the story that I didn’t even really know, but I can totally embellish upon because I am good like that. The woman asked “How do you know all of this?”

“Didn’t you guys get that book in the bathroom of your room?” my husband interjects because he knows he needs to snuff out this fire before we are up all night singing show tunes from the seventies. like “You take the good, You take the bad, You take them both and there you have The Facts of Life….The Facts of Life!” He’s familiar with this kind of night.

“What book?” the husband asks.

“In the bathroom of your hotel room there is a book about the history of the town and the property.” my husband states.

“We didn’t get a book.” the wife says.

“I knew it!” I gasp.

My husband knows not to ask “knew what?” because there is about to be a shitload of crazy heading his way. So he puts his hand on mine and continues.

“I’m sure it is somewhere in your room. There is a price tag on it so if you swipe it you get charged for it.” he pats my hand meaning that’s enough of this because I am not singing the theme song from “The Love Boat” with you tonight because I have a meeting first thing in the morning I have to be fresh for.

We end up having a great time and it was late when we finally get back to the room. The bed as I said before is luxurious and huge and it is a four-poster bed and it has this lovely gauze canopy that is draped over the top and it hangs down each pillar of the posts. I sigh because it truly is the bed of my dreams when I used to think that I was really a princess. I climb into the bed and I fall asleep because I was exhausted.

So I don’t know about any of you, but when I sleep in an unfamiliar place I have to get up frequently to go to the bathroom. I am sleepily laying in this bed and I open my eyes and there she is that fucking lady in white. She is here for me and I am unable to scream because I really have to pee badly and even though I am terrified I don’t want to piss the bed. I crawl over my husband and get out of the bed on his side and I sprint to the bathroom. I see the book sitting there on the back  of the toilet and I read it because maybe there is something in there that tells me how to get rid of her. I read and I see that the murders happened on the property but not this property that the hotel is on. The murders happened on the old farm but then the land was sold off years ago. This property the hotel sits on is no longer a part of that sight. So then I start to think, Do ghosts know when land is sold? Do they respect boundaries? Do they get that this Hotel is no longer a part of the gruesome murders that had occurred long ago? I am now humming the tune from “The Facts of Life” because I know that it will calm me down. I then start to realize that obviously the lady in white doesn’t give a shit about the land being sold. She’s in my bedroom ready to haunt me, or possess me or something.

I know that I need to go and check on my husband because I am married to him and that’s in the vows, “I take thee to wed and to fight whatever ghosts hover over you when you sleep!”. A part of me thinks it’s all of his fault that we are here in this damn nightmare of a place. I grab the book and I creep out of the room. As I turn the corner there is a whooshing white that flutters and hovers the bed. “It’s obviously the Ghost!” I think because honestly what else could it possibly be. I then try to think of how people get rid of ghosts. But the problem is I don’t watch scary movies like that . I don’t know how to get rid of them because when I do watch scary movies, I cover my face with my hands and I stick my thumbs in my ears and I wait until someone tells me that it is over. I am completely ill-prepared for moments like these. Why don’t I ever ask people how they got rid of  the ghosts in the movie?

Wait I saw ghost busters. I start singing “Who you gonna Call? Ghost busters!!!”

“Did you say something?” my husband asks

“Do you think Ghostbusters are still in business?” I ask (I need to point out that at this particular moment in time I mean the original Ghostbusters not the latest completely wonderful all girl version with Melissa McCarthy)

“What’s wrong?” my husband asks

“The lady in white is hovering right over  the side of my bed. She wants to possess me or something.” I tell him.

“It’s the canopy! Now stop singing show tunes and get back to bed!” he says so sure of himself.

I don’t believe him and that is why I am always going to have to be the hero because he doesn’t ever believe me that these things can happen. After all there all of these books, including the one in my hand, that talks about it. Why would they talk about it if it was not real?

I finally draw up the courage and I look around the corner and I see the fluttering again. Shit she is determined to get me. What did I ever do to you lady in white? I look at my husband and he looks nonplussed! He stands up and takes that lady and white and he wraps her around the pillar of the four-poster bed. He is badass I tell ya!!!! He’s not even afraid. She isn’t even struggling that hard though. I mean maybe if I fought her I would have won because she seems like a real wimp. I then get closer and I realized that it was the canopy all along. That’s why the lady in white wasn’t fighting back. So we are still in danger…because she is still out there and probably stronger than the both of us.

“Are you okay?” he asks not really wanting any other answer besides ‘yes I am okay.’

“Not really, because she is still out there.” I say. He takes the book that I am holding in my hands and puts it on the bedside table.

“I told you not to read that book. They just put it in there to scare you and so that you will buy it.” he pulls me into him. “You need to listen to me. I am trying to help you.”

“Can you sing the theme song to the love boat to me?” I ask

“No!” he says, “Get some sleep!”

Guys, I was very brave that night. I stayed awake all night long and stood guard over my husband so that he could sleep and be fresh in the morning for his meeting. When he woke up he startled because I was lying over him staring at him while he slept.

“Did you get any sleep? At all?” he asks

“Nope.” I say “I was just making sure you were safe.”

“From the canopy?” he asks

“Yup! And look at you now, alive and well!” I say “You can thank me by getting me a cup of coffee!” I tell him

“Do you want me to leave you in the room by yourself?” he asks

I look around the room and out of the corner of my eye I see that gauzy white canopy ripple in the breeze.

“No, I’ll come with you!” We go down to the lobby to get ourselves some coffee. We see the other young couple down there looking similar to us. The husband well rested and the woman looking like she had been fighting ghosts of her own (which is why the new version of ghostbusters is more believable)

“She read that book!” her husband states.

She nods. “We didn’t have a copy in our room so I asked the front desk for one.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” the husband says to no one in particular.

“I can’t believe that there are so many ghosts seen around the area!” she said.

“What? I only knew about the one!” I explain.

Both husbands want this conversation to end because they know there will be no sleep had until we leave in a few days.

“We should go up to the room and get ready for the meeting!” my husband nudges me in the general direction of the elevator.

“What are you doing while they are at their meeting?” my new friend asks.

“Nothing, why?”

“Do you want to go into town with me? Do a little shopping?” she asks.

“I’ll be ready in about an hour!” I say

I get the talk about how I am not to be going out and scaring myself today, by my husband. I promise.

That day we asked everyone that we met if they had seen any of the ghosts in town.

“No, I haven’t!” the confused girl at the coffee shop answers

“It’s an old wives tale!” the woman at the art gallery tells us

“What? Ghosts?” the newly scared person on the street visiting her son at college asks.

We were so helpful by explaining our knowledge with her. She was all ears. She joined us for lunch. The young man at the restaurant laughed when we asked him about it.

“Yeah! I don’t think that’s real. They are just trying to get you to explore the town.” he did give us some places to visit, though. So we got good and scared before we had to go back to the haunted barn hotel. We walked our new friend back to her hotel and then we walk back to ours. As we were walking we started talking more about the town and the really cool things we explored.

That night I slept more soundly because we had found out that the lady in white was actually an old nurse that would show up whenever someone was in need. She was comforting and pleasant.

“Good night, angel!” I say before I turn out the light.

“Good night dear!” my husband says

“Oh, I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to the ghost.” I said and I went to sleep.

Moral of my story: Sometimes its best to find out all you can about the ghost who haunts you. They might be nice. Also the all girl version of Ghostbusters is more accurate, in my opinion, because men would just stand there mansplaining how you don’t see a ghost when it is obviously clear that there is a possession of Sigourney Weaver going on right in front of them. Also its always good to share your fears with sympathetic strangers. We had a great time that day, me and my new friends that I didn’t ever keep in touch with nor do I remember their names. Those sometimes are the best types of people you need in moments like this.

Until next time:)

Are you enjoying my Halloween theme? If so drop in at Facebook, Twitter or here and let me know what you think. Unless it isn’t great….I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. 🙂

Okay, I am pretty certain you all know me by now. If you don’t, I think I am pretty easy to read, if not go ahead and actually read all of my other posts to catch up. We will wait!

So on Halloween night there is always that one house that has decided that it was their purpose in life to scare all of the neighborhood kids. Maybe you are that person and I don’t want to judge you too harshly but, you my friend, are an asshole. I have had moments on Halloween night when I just heard those canned screams and thought “NOPE Nope nope! this is not for me!”

So when I was a big brave eleven year old (soon to be twelve though) I went to my friend’s house for trick or treating. My friend is in my grade but I am young in my grade because I started school early and she is older because she started school on time and then was held back. We are friends because I help her with her homework. (I now realize that this is not an ideal friendship situation) Her mother was working that night and my friend and I were to bring her little  brother around the neighborhood on Halloween. I was all super preteen and ballsy when talking to her “Yeah, totally!” (it was the eighties) “I can’t wait!”

So my friend was legit cool and I was faking cool. Faking cool in school is so much easier because you can talk some serious shit about yourself. “So, like, I am totally going to go trick or treating with her and so we are planning to scare some of the kids that come to the house when we hand out candy!” I’m a liar and I am an asshole. We bought fake rubber severed arms and bloody worms and peeled grapes (eyes). We have every intention of scaring these kids. But the thing is I want to scare kids my age not little babies and stuff. My friend honestly sees no difference. I told her if they are younger than nine we can’t scare them. She smiles and calls me a pussy. I grimace because at this point in my life I am not allowed to talk like that. “No, you’re being the v-word!” I think because I am not at all badass.

The night comes and I get all of my things together for my sleepover at my friend’s house. My mother drives me over there in broad daylight and all is good. I get out of my mother’s car and head inside to where my friend is dressed up as a slutty vampire. I planned to go with my old standby (insensitive still) the housewife. I decided to let my friend do my make-up and I am now more of a dead housewife. Next there is a knock on her door and it is some guys (much older than us, especially me because I am young for my age in every way possible) from the neighborhood, they were coming over to go trick or treating with us because they all have a crush on my friend. They look at me and ask “Who is this? Is she your little cousin or something?”

We go to the same school. You are in my algebra class asshole. But no one knows me because I’m pretty invisible. Also, I didn’t know that these guys were coming over. I wasn’t told about this turn of events. My friend’s little brother comes down stairs and he is dressed up as a cop and he is young like five or so. I’m a little annoyed that my friend isn’t even paying attention to her little brother. That’s what we were supposed to be doing. (I am dumb and I haven’t caught on that I am here to take the little kid trick or treating she is going to hang out with the much older boys….) I go into the bathroom and see the makeup she put on my face and it is terrifying so I wash it off, I don’t want to pretend being possessed and then find out I was accidentally possessed while my guard was down sometime during the night. I had recently  heard the exorcist movie playing from the other room , while my brothers watched it, and I will never be the same again. I sure as hell wasn’t over it at this point in my life. I come out of the bathroom and there is my friend laughing and joking with the boys. I see her little brother getting more and more anxious because he wants to eat so that we can go out trick or treating.

“Would you please just take a chill pill? Jesus Christ!” She says. (so super blasphemous, she didn’t mean it Jesus!)

So finally the pizza delivery guy shows up and my friend flirts with him and we get pizza for free. I am worried that the guy is going to lose his job for giving us free pizza. Now the doorbell rings and my friend and her band of douche-bags terrorize these poor little kids. They are all laughing and I am annoyed. They are just little children looking for candy. I then notice the odd lighting pattern coming from the house. This house that I am standing in!

GUYS! I am in the SCARY house…. The one that I refused to go to when I was little (last year and also probably this year, but I am in the scary house now, so not this year I guess) I am THE  ASSHOLE! How did I not see it? I look at the slutty vampire with the fake teeth and the drip of blood going down her face. Her black cape and red negligee, her face painted to make her look pale. Her blonde hair perfectly styled and curled.

The guys: one as a werewolf with a rubber mask with the yellow eyes that look deranged, and gloves that make his hands hideous and like wolves claws, he was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans and work boots. Another one is wearing a hockey mask splattered with fake blood, he is dressed in all black as if he is planning to rob houses later on that night. A third guy with a mask with worms coming out of festering wounds and one eyeball that hangs from the socket, he is in tattered clothes.

Then there is Me in my nightgown (which is very little house on the prairie) and my pink house coat, hair in curlers and my slippers that were crotched for me last Christmas by my mom. I am completely out of my league!

Next I hear the music. It is the score of my nightmares….you know the one….the exorcist score…I don’t know who wrote it and I’m not looking it up because I am totally certain that it was satan and I don’t need to become acquainted with him. I hear it and my heart begins to skip a beat, which it normally does because of the heart murmur but it skips another one too because I am shit scared. I look at her little brother who ate half a slice of pizza so that he can say that he ate before we went trick or treating. The guys all are ogling the slutty vampire and I am not really jealous it’s just that this night has not turned out to be the night I had in mind.

“Can we go now?” the little cop speaks up.

“Hey, why don’t you have your cousin take him. I mean she isn’t doing anything!” the werewolf says.

You literally cheated off of me today in algebra you fucking prick.

“Do you mind?” My friend looks at me sympathetically. “I mean someone really needs to be here if we get trick-or-treaters.” she bats her eyes at me and thinks that would work on me. Honestly, just asking me works. I am not one to say no. I am also not all that charmed by her. I now see her little game. She is manipulative as fuck..I look at her and I nod because I feel bad for her little brother.

“You ready?” I ask the little cop.

“Not with you!!!” he whines.

Great! Even the little kid doesn’t want to be with me. Awesome! I look at my friend and she sweet talks him into going trick or treating with me. So Funny story, this is the first time I had been out trick or treating by myself…or at least as the oldest. I was considerably braver when I thought my friend was going to be there. Now it is me and her little brother out together. We are about the same size. I am now suddenly aware that the entire neighborhood is in some awful, let’s outdo each other with the Halloween decorations and terrifying theme, competition.

My nightmares are realized and THEY ARE ALL THE SCARY HOUSE!!! With the Exorcist score playing in rounds from one house to the next. Terrifying black strobe lights as far as the eye can see. And Let’s not forget the screams, the blood curdling screams beckoning for help from beyond the depths of the darkness. I honestly thought of walking this tiny cop to the gas station and buying him candy myself.

I have to be brave. I have to be brave. I walk up to the first house and there is a horrible face looking back at me from the window. “It’s just a mask. It’s not real, don’t run screaming, you are going to be fine.” I tell myself. I feel the blood rushing into my ears and my fight or flight is saying “kick him in the balls and get the fuck out of there!”

I look at the little cop and he isn’t even a little afraid. He knocks on the door.

“Can I help you?” the terrible creature asks.

“Trick or Treat” the little cop sings out.

“Well, I don’t know how you feel about spiders and snakes, but let me see if I can find any real food for you!” the creature walks away and grabs the candy dish. We take our candy and go to the next house. By the third house I realize that it is all of these men with their polished “Dad jokes” and silly puns ready for us. They are more corny than anything else. We make it all the way through the neighborhood and we head back to their house.

When we get there the door is opened a crack and there is nothing but the strobe lights and the exorcist score playing. I look over and I see a mask on the floor. I call out “Guys?” I get no answer. I walk into the house shielding the little cop with my massive seventy pound body, I am wearing my back brace, though, so I have some protection if they go for the stomach area or the back…mostly the trunk which is where most of the vital organs are.

“Hey, are you guys here?” I listen and there is footsteps.

I walk toward the footsteps and there was a white whoosh that passed down the hallway. What the fuck was that? I call out “This isn’t funny guys.” Nothing. No giggling! No whispering!

I see my friend and she is laying in a pool of blood. I go over to her and flip her over to see if she is breathing when someone yells behind me. One of the guys is being hurled off of the banister by what appears to be an actual demon. I go running over to him and the little cop is crying and screaming. I check the guy who is wearing the hockey mask and there is more blood all over it and him and on the floor underneath him.

“We need to get out of here!” the little cop cries. I look at him. I realize at this moment I am looking like the most unlikely hero in all of the world in my ridiculous housewife costume with curlers in my hair. I check the guy for his pulse. He has one and it is strong. LIKE hammering strong. I hear them all start chuckling a bit. Apparently my cold fingers on his neck tickled him. They are all laughing while the little cop and I are trying to sort out our feelings. Relief, anger, fear, and rage.

“What were you going to do? Give me mouth to mouth?” the guy laughs.

“You would like that wouldn’t you?”  another guy mocks.

“From her, ewe gross!” he responds.

Excellent my Halloween is complete. I have been rejected, humiliated and frightened. Good times!! I look at my friend who is laughing and AT ME because it definitely wasn’t with me. I realize in this moment that she was never serious about being my friend. She knew I was a fraud. I wasn’t cool enough for her. I look at the kid I was hunched over and said “Your frucken…”(I tried to use the f word and it just wouldn’t come out. I was too inexperienced, “…pulse gave you away. I suggest that the next time you guys try this nonsense on someone, you don’t do it on a person who knows where your carotid artery is.” I grab my things and I begin to pack.

“We were just joking!” my friend says and tries to play it off that she isn’t really an asshole.

“Yup!” I say.

“What’s a carotid artery?” one of the guys asks and he now realizes that I think he’s stupid.

“Read a book sometime and learn things!” I look at him deep into his eyes and I say “By the way I am the one you cheat off of in algebra. I am the little seventh grader that is in with all of you seniors taking your class. So the next time you think of working on someone’s empathy maybe realize where that empathy comes from. I have been through some shit and you think that I haven’t learned how to check a pulse just for fun right???” (I did, I am the type of girl who learns to check for a pulse just for fun because I am truly a nerd. I am a seventh grader taking math with seniors.) “This is a skill I have acquired out of a need to know basis.”

He looks at me and I can tell that I hit a nerve. “Shit! I didn’t know. Okay!”

“You didn’t need to know!” I say and I smile because I realize that I have hit my stride of coolness. I am talking real smack now and I have got their attention.

“Hey, calm down!” my friend looks at me and she can tell that I am really upset. “We just thought it would be funny. That’s all!”

“Funny for whom?” I ask.

She looks guilty. I see the little boy cowering in the corner and I point to him “For him? Do you think he is having a good time? Use you’re head!”

I walk over to him and kneel down “Are you okay?”

He nods.

“Did that scare you?” I ask because I am concerned but also to make them all feel bad about what they have done.

He nods again.

“Out of fear comes bravery. Bravery only happens when you are afraid. Remember that!” I give him a hug. I go to walk out.

“Can you stay?” he asks.

Ugh. I didn’t want to leave him with this group of assholes. I stop and I look at him. “I will stay with you.” and I say rather loudly as if I am still coming across as badass “SOMEONE HAS TO CHECK YOUR CANDY FOR RAZOR BLADES AND INJECTION HOLES!”  Yup that ruined it. I walked with him with my arm around his shoulder like the nerdy kid that I truly was. I never should have tried to pretend to be cool with the coolest girl in school. She could see right through it.

I am not badass! In fact I wasn’t even close to being cool. I was just glad that I didn’t actually piss myself in all of that excitement. I actually learned to check for a pulse from one of my mother’s nursing books, but I was so enraged that I wanted this band of misfits to think before they pulled this shit on someone else. You never know someone’s story! They didn’t know me at all. They just thought they did. I was the sweet, easy, gullible, little smart kid and easy prey for them.

Moral of my story: Don’t be the asshole on Halloween! Also out of fear comes bravery, for without fear there is no need to rise to the occasion. If you are one of those people who hates the scary house on Halloween, it’s just corny dads who have stored up all of their dad jokes and silly puns for this occasion, they mean no harm. Also the carotid artery is the place where you check for a pulse in your neck. If you have a nice strong one chances are you haven’t been harmed severely by being hurled from a banister. If you want more information about anything, you can find it in books. Why did I read my mother’s nursing books before I was eleven years old? Because they were lying around and I was not athletic!!!

Until next time 🙂

My son was very sick before he had his tonsils out. First grade was exceptionally rough for him. I was one of those moms who was all like “If you aren’t puking and don’t have a fever, you are going to school!” I was also one of those moms that was picking her sick child up at the school nurse’s office, hours after taking my firm stand against school skipping and faking sick. I’m an asshole who contaminated plenty of circle time. I will accept my bad mom award any day now. So like any kid who is sick and needing his tonsils out my son missed the majority of first grade. We got to the point that he was on antibiotics all of the time. He would come off of them and within a week or two he would be sick again. Needless to say this was hard on his system and also a kid cannot live on high doses of antibiotics for long periods of time. So he was inevitably sick on Halloween.

He woke up and it was close to Halloween and he had missed some school already and it was only the second month of first grade and he comes to me and says “I don’t feel very good.”

I put my hand to his head, because I am practically a nurse that way and I state “You don’t have a fever.”

He says, “I have a headache.”

“Do you really have a headache or do you just want to stay home today?” I ask, because of the many hats a mom has to wear, sleuth is one of them.

“I guess I’m fine.” my son says. I smile because I am proud of my nursing and sleuthing abilities. I am really awesome and if this stay at home thing doesn’t work out I am definitely qualified for an assortment of positions.

I drive my kids to school and I get home. I get the youngest one all set up to do some coloring when I answer the phone, it’s the school nurse. “Your son vomited at circle time. You need to come get him. He said that he told you but you didn’t listen to him. Also he has a fever of a hundred and three.”

“OH my poor son. I will be there right away.” I grab my little one pile her and her dolls into the car and go to pick him up. (All of you one nighters think you have the walk of shame….Fucking do this more than once. Walk into the school nurses office every couple of weeks after your child has already told you he wasn’t feeling well. This is more than a walk of shame. It’s the shuffle of Assholism.) I mean come on. Kids tell their parents all of the time that they are sick and they magically feel better around three pm after the bus drops off their siblings. How was I to know that sometimes they are telling the truth?

I do the shuffle of Assholism into the building and first you have to hit the buzzer and wait to get through the first step of security clearance. Which I am totally all for, but when you are standing there with a sleeping toddler that is almost the same size as you, it would be great if the person who is buzzing you in takes you seriously.

“Yes, can I help you?” the black box calls out on my third buzz. And this black box is super annoyed that I dared to bother it.

“Yes, I am here to pick up my son. He is sick in the nurse’s office!” I call into the black box.

“Ok. I will check!”

Check what? If I have a son? If there is a boy in the nurse’s office? Are there really people claiming to have sick children while carrying another sleeping child that weighs fifty pounds of dead weight? I mean come on people…just let me in. I mean no harm. But then again I get it…safety first. So I stand there while the feeling in my hand goes out. I juggle the sound asleep toddler onto the other arm for comfort.

“Ma’am!”

“Yes?”

“I am going to buzz you in.”

Buzzing noise. I go over to grab the door with my numb hand and my arms full of sleeping sack of potatoes and I miss my opportunity. (This is like when your brother picks you up at cheerleading practice and every time you go to open the door he drives away. But so much fucking worse because I have a sick child that needs me. A sleeping child that is heavy in my arms and a judgmental school staff waiting to meet the “dick of a mother” who sent her kid in to contaminate everyone there. Yes again I have to say, so much worse than the walk of shame. The shuffle of Assholism is never going to go well.) I finally get into the building on the fourth try of walking from the black box to the door handle quickly enough to reach it while it was unlocked. Thank God. (this also should be an olympic sport…going from the call box to the school doors with a heavy sleeping child in your arms before the doors lock again) I would lose…but I still win the bad mom award so I’m good.

I finally get inside and have to talk to the bitch who was watching me struggle with the door on the security camera and try desperately to be kind to her. What I really just want her to do is to give me my child without any hassle. There is always a hassle. I am now inside and I sign in. Then they have to go back to the nurse to let them know that I am in the building. Then they say that he has to go back to his classroom to get his things. Like, I said I was coming….why didn’t you anticipate this when we hung up. What is going on with you people? I stand there with my toddler who is moving around and starting to wake up. She is going to be grumpy and I am just waiting for it. She looks at me and smiles. The black box bitch tries to talk to her….this child has a bullshit radar that could smell BS a fucking mile away lady…don’t talk to her.

Toddler shoves her face into my shoulder and the office lady is still trying to get her attention. SHE DOESN’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!!!! I get it that she looks adorable and maybe you want to be her friend but she just woke up and she hates you…Please be quiet because you are upsetting her and I have to live with her when we leave here. Nope the lady pisses her off so now she is scream-crying and I am just so over this day. I finally collect my poor sick son and he looks like he has been through a war since I dropped him off a few short hours ago. He is carrying his huge book bag that is bigger than he is and it is filled with his homework for the next week. We have been through this a few times already and his teacher knows he’s not coming back any time soon. I will point out again that it is only October and the teacher already knows that my kid is the sick one.

I get him home. I call the doctors. We get an appointment. I bring him in and sure enough it is tonsillitis and he is on antibiotics….AGAIN!!!

I get him home and he is all snuggled on the couch watching Scooby-Doo and he looks at me and asks “What about Halloween?” he is all big blue eyes and sadness. “It’s in a couple of days.”

“I don’t know kid.” I look at this child and I already can tell that he is over being the sick kid. “I’ll think of something.”

“Can I still go trick or treating?” He looks terrible. There is no way in hell he is going out on a cold Halloween night in some sheer fucking costume to get candy.

“Sorry bug. That is probably not going to happen.” I tell him.

I get a phone call from my neighbor she is checking in because she heard that my son got sent home from school again. She means well and she is also kind of worried about her child getting it. She tells me how to raise my kid for a little bit…as much as I can stand and I had to go because he was puking.

Why do mothers do this to each other? I then start to think how I am going to make Halloween fun for him. He was going to be on antibiotics for a while and no longer contagious. I decided to invite the neighbor kids to our house for a piñata before they all go out trick or treating. He will help me hand out candy. My husband was taking the girls out trick or treating because the dads mostly hand out candy and they usually offer my husband a beer and male bonding. He’s into it. He also likes to take his kids out on Halloween because he doesn’t always get to do things with them. It’s a win/win for almost everybody, not my son, but I am trying!

I let all of the neighborhood parents know that we will start at the house first with a little party. I let them know that it will actually be in the garage away from any germs. They can all hit the piñata until it breaks and then everyone gets candy and it’s fun. All of the parents think this is a great idea. I also put together some fingerfoods for the parents. It was a huge success. My son was dressed up in his costume and happy. His friends were all there and laughing. When they all headed out for trick or treating my son and I put on some tv and handed out candy. When my daughters came back they told me that the neighborhood moms put together a bag of candy for their brother. They felt bad that he was unable to partake. The piñata was such a great tradition that we did it few more times before it became a hassle. I am not a fan of hassle. Also it was a bit much trying to have all of that candy around. My kids are not big candy eaters and so I would find myself giving it to my husband to bring in to work.

It was a good time. I miss having little ones around. I am glad that my children grew up to be the people that they are though. They are my favorite people!

Moral of my story: Trying to break the school skipper’s code is near impossible. Sometimes you are going to have healthy kids sitting on your couch eating jello and popsicles until three pm. They will miraculously feel better and you will go on with your lives. Other times you are going to have the school nurse calling you, and the shuffle of assholism to look forward to as you are trying to catch the door while it is still unlocked. Don’t worry, you’re a good mom. You are doing your best. Also, if you have a sick kid home for Halloween and you know that they are no longer contagious, get a neighborhood piñata, it was probably his favorite Halloween ever. Also the parents loved it too. We were all such a great community that year. We were all there for one another and it was lovely. You don’t even need to have a sick child…try getting together with your neighbors and start a tradition. Doesn’t that sound fun?

Until next time 🙂

As a stay at home mom whose husband travels for work, it is my duty to make my children feel safe. I am not a brave woman, but I can fake brave from time to time. I really allow my imagination to run wild and I have tried to get some control over that. My absolute favorite time of the year is fall because the air is crisp and clean. I love to wear sweaters and jeans and boots. I mean fall is just a good time for me. But with all the pumpkin spice latte and apple crisp and roast pork comes Halloween. Stupid Halloween with its evil magic to ruin my favorite time of year. Oh lets blast horror movie commercials all over the television and radio. Let’s put stupid Halloween decorations that scream in horror as you walk by in stores. I mean seriously, are you trying to kill me with an absolute heart attack.

So I am sitting with my kids and they have decided that they want to watch Halloween specials on Disney. One of the movies this week is Hocus Pocus and my kids think it looks hilarious. I am like “Yeah, sure, let’s watch it!” because I don’t know what I am doing.

Okay, I am not trying to offend anyone here with my blog. But Hocus Pocus isn’t it supposed to be for children? I mean I get it, its Halloween and halloween is about getting a little scared, but come on, some people have to sleep alone. So I popped popcorn and get my kids all ready to watch their horror film thinking its a light comedy for kids with a  halloween theme. And as we start watching it I feel myself getting more and more terrified. I look at my kids and they are all handling it okay. I on the other hand want them to suggest changing it. Like seriously I have to sleep alone, are we going to watch the whole thing? I sit there with my youngest in my lap, who is laughing and eating popcorn and enjoying this frightfest. My son and oldest daughter are glued to the tv and I am trying to think of things that aren’t ghastly. Like Unicorns and baby penguins and how about otters that hold hands while they sleep!

I see my reflection in the window and I jump because I thought it was a ghost or goblin looking in at me and the kids. I am scared out of my wits and “The love boat” isn’t on syndication anymore. Like if this is what’s on for kid shows then I am screwed for finding some nice calm, and maybe funny and silly with a little romance…you know like “The Love Boat” to watch after I tuck my kids into bed!!!! The horror movie of Hocus Pocus is all finished and my kids are all happy and laughing and talking about their favorite parts. I just want to yell “No more talking about that horrible movie. We may never speak of it again. Now how about koalas and baby monkeys adorable right?”

Instead I have to be the grown up and I am like “Oh yes, that was a delightful little film, wasn’t it pets? Now we shan’t get to bed too late, we wouldn’t want to be late arising for school in the morning!” because when I am a grown up I apparently am British or proper because I am not sure if this is British or if I am just being a stereotypical ass.

I get the kids all into their pajamas and read them a story and I chose Winnie the Pooh to calm my nerves. I get the kids all tucked into bed. I go downstairs and my dog starts growling at the back door. I look outside and I see something red running through my vegetable garden. My dog begins to bark and starts to scratch at the door. Now I am forced with the decision do I let my dog out to scare whoever it is that is in my garden away, all the while risking the chance that it is some supernatural being that I will then be forced to face, or do I just ignore it and turn off the lights and hope for the best. But my dog is not ignoring it and he is ready to tear somebody’s head off. I don’t want him to wake up the kids so I open the back door and hope for the best. I watch my dog and he tears straight over to the “Demon”, I suppose, because what else wears red??? He is over by the demon and clearly the demon has turned him because there is my now possessed dog wagging his tail and sitting at the feet of this horrible creature.

Now I am unsure if I can trust my dog. He turned pretty quickly. Has he been working with Satan this whole time? Have I been stupid by trusting his adorable golden face with black nose, golden brown eyes and big pink tongue. Is he a demonic spy that is living in my house? Why didn’t I see it? I mean nothing is that cute. It starts to make sense. I see my dog and the red demon coming toward my door and I am certain that I have to fight this thing. Where is my bible? What passage should I use? “Get away from me demon!” seems like a good one. I am standing back away from the door and I see the traitor dog and the red demon approaching my deck and I as ready as I will ever be, get in my demonic fighting power stance . My dog’s eyes look haunting as they glow in the dark. I am ready and unwilling. I am going to do this. I see the red demon trying to coax my dog to leave his side. Perhaps the demon doesn’t realize that I am already onto their plan. I know you are working together demon and I am not falling for it.

The demon is trying to shoo the possessed dog away. Well that’s what you get when you possess a dog, they are very loyal you know. Especially my golden retriever, he is very loyal, unless you count right now when it has occurred to me that he has been a horrible demonic traitor. I am waiting with my phrase and I am trying to tap into my good pal Jesus to come to my side. “Be my sword and my shield,” I will Jesus to take form right there in my kitchen. That’s when I see the demon slump his shoulders and come forward with the golden spy heading toward my back door. The red is coming closer to my house and I am going to just panic. I see the bodies of the demon and the dog come up to the deck stairs and I just know that I am going to faint. There I am in my pajamas just about to have a heart attack when the demon bangs on the glass door.

I look up in horror

…..and there is my neighbor’s teenage son. He waves and smiles. I look at myself and check that I am appropriately dressed. Yup I am wearing what my kids call my “suit-jamas” because they are all matchy and the top has a collar and buttons. I go over to the door and open it.

“Hi, miss Becki, we are playing capture the flag and your dog is giving me away.” He says.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” I say. I call my dog into the house. “Do you kids want a snack?” I ask.

So earlier that day, the neighborhood teenagers had come by and asked me if they could use our yard for their game of capture the flag. I gave them permission because these were good kids. I also think that it is good old fashion fun to play capture the flag in your neighborhood.

“Yeah sure, what do you got?” he asks.

“I just made brownies.” I did just make brownies with my youngest when she got home from preschool.

“Awesome, hold on a sec.” he says. He goes to the front door and yells out “Do you guys want brownies?”

“I want brownies!” a bodiless voice calls out.

“Me too!” another one

“That’s where you were!” another laughs.

“I want brownies!” disembodied voices coming from the top of my stairs. Three little cherubs out of bed wanting to get in on the excitement! I smile because my kids are adorable.

Before I know it I have a yard full of hungry teenagers. I send them out with brownies and I promise to try to keep the dog inside. I send the kids on their way to finish their game. I look at the clock and it’s ten thirty at night and I chuckle to myself because I thought it was late. To me and my small children it is late, to these teenagers the night is just getting started.

I let my kids each have a little bit of brownie and I get them to brush their teeth again and then back into bed.

Okay so if it hadn’t been for that terribly horrifying movie Hocus Pocus, I would probably handled that better. Maybe? Okay I would have forgotten that I promised the kids that they could use my yard. Whatever! The point of my story is that Hocus Pocus is really scary for a chicken shit mother like me.

Moral of my story: Hocus Pocus should come with a warning…not for the faint of heart. I haven’t seen this movie since that day. Maybe this year will be the year that I confront my Hocus Pocus fears and give it another shot. After all I am braver now, after almost being possessed by Wanda the maid in Virginia. I mean that has practically made me a legend. Also I fought that possessed doll in my closet…well that was a cat, but I was ready to fight that doll. And Other things…I mean I am brave now. I can do this. Also allow the neighborhood kids use your yard for capture the flag because they are awesome. Just make sure your dog knows that they are coming.

Today I am going to do something a little different and I am going to let my imagination tell this story. This story goes out to one of my readers that reached out to me last night. So E.M.F. this is for you!

The house sat in the center of the cup-de-sac in the development. The development was built on old farm land. The little family that resides in the house has three children, a girl, a boy and another girl. During Halloween time the corn fields are tall and it made the neighborhood look ominous because the corn fields encircled  the development. Everywhere you looked was tall rustling corn stalks as far as the eye could see. A strange occurrence happens during the fall when the temperature drops, the birds fly south and this house sat right within the migratory path. The swarms of blackbirds were so thick it would block out the sun. The youngest child asked why there were so many birds in the backyard?

“They are traveling to their winter home in Florida!” her beautiful, charming, and incredibly funny mother explained  “They are dropping in for a bite to eat.”

“Are these the old people birds?” the small girl asks

The mother chuckles and says “Well some of them are but they all travel together like a big happy family!”

“Do they go to Disney when they are there?” small little angel asks.

“Probably! I would!” mother replies.

“I would too!” the little girl states, “Can I bring my American girl doll with me to the doctors?”

“Yep! Go get it and we will head out.” Mother is just sad that the poor little dear needs to see the doctors so much. The child is small for her age and suffers terribly with headaches and stomach problems. She loves her American girl doll and it can comfort her when she has her blood tests.

The doctor’s appointment went well and they were heading back home when a man drives them off the road and he has a gun pointed at the mother’s head. She takes the next exit and she calls her husband. The phone goes directly to voicemail. She is too shaken to leave a message. She just wanted someone to talk to. She checks the time and it is getting late and she needs to go get her other children from school.

She smiles at her little one who was sleeping in the back, tired from the doctor’s appointment. She drives to the school and picks up the other children, all the while trying to forget what just happened. She convinces herself that she was overreacting because she has been told that is who she is. So she continues on her day without giving it a second thought.

“How was your day kids?” Mother asks still rattled by what just happened.

“It was school.” the son grumbles.

“What was your favorite part of school?” mother asks

“Lunch was good, we had pizza!” son smiles.

“I got an A on my test.” oldest daughter says.

“That’s awesome.” mother replies.

“Why do you let her drag this creepy doll everywhere!” oldest daughter states and picks the doll up by her hair and drops it behind the seat.

“Because it comforts her.” mother says.

The little one is still asleep in her car seat.

“How did the doctor’s appointment go?” oldest daughter asks.

“It was good. She was so brave.” mother smiles because she knows how much her children love each other. They are all so kind to one another.

“Did they do more tests?” oldest daughter who is destined to go into medicine asks.

“They did blood tests and x-rays!” Mother smiles. “They will call later with the results.”

That night at bedtime the youngest couldn’t find her doll and she can’t go to bed without her. Mother searches the entire house and remembers that it is still in the car. She walks out to her car and in the country, surrounded by all of that corn, with no street lights, she tries to remain brave. Bravery is not this mother’s strength. She had been plagued by the worst imagination around. She would tell herself, if you are going to make shit up why not good things, like I’m probably going  to win the lottery. But instead her imagination was more like werewolves are probably real and living in that corn field surrounding your house. She frightens herself good and plenty by the time she finds the doll. Phew, now time to run into the house and lock everything up. As she was running into the house she hears the corn husks rustle and she moves at top speed. She jams the button on the garage door knowing that all a werewolf would have to do is stick his foot out for the sensor and that would stop the door from closing. Her heartbeat quickened and she twisted the door handle and listened to the garage door for any disturbance. She made it in her home safely. No werewolves or any other monster got her this time. It must be because she is so clever and quick.

“What happened out there?” her son asks noticing the pure panic on her face.

“Nothing!” she answers, she knows that she looks shit scared but she is just being silly that’s all. She laughs at herself and she said “I heard the corn husks rustle in the breeze and it scared me.” She laughs again loudly. The children all join in.

“Here’s your doll sweet pea! Time to get you  tucked into bed. Did you pick out your book?” Mother picks up the little one and starts to bring her to bed for the night-time ritual of reading, needing water, having to pee and the other reasons the child could conjure up so she doesn’t have to go to bed.

The phone rings. Oldest daughter “Mom, its dad!” he calls every time she is trying to put the kids to bed. She is frustrated but she is still happy that he called.

“I can read to her.” oldest daughter helpfully suggests.

The night is a success and mother is finally able to go to bed just after folding this last load of laundry. She looks at the clock and it is ten thirty, she wonders if anything good is on tv. She get’s herself tucked into bed and is searching for something interesting. She finds a comedy and falls asleep. She wakes up to the sound of whispering. In her doorway is a bedraggled girl with long dark hair covering her face and her nightgown is long and covering her feet. The American girl doll is tucked under her arm.

“Mom, can I sleep with you?” the scratchy voice whispers.

Mother brushes the child’s hair from her eyes to see that she is her daughter. Relief spreads over her when she sees her daughter’s smooth and beautiful face peeking out from all of that hair. She isn’t the girl from the ring and so yes she may sleep with her. The little one hunkers down with her mother and she holds her daughter in her arms. They both feel safe and warm and are able to get a good night’s sleep.

A couple of weeks have gone by and it is bed time again and Halloween is fast approaching. Halloween is a time in which the Earth is susceptible for super-natural happenings, such as witches getting their one night of power to wreak havoc on poor unsuspecting families that live in the middle of tall corn fields.”Mom, I don’t want to sleep with my doll anymore!” the little girl states sadly.

“Why?” mom asks.

“Because those guys,” meaning her older brother and sister, “say that she comes to life when we are sleeping. They say she is creepy.”

“Honey, they are just pulling your leg.” she doesn’t know why she even said that, because she always hated that expression. Could you imagine someone pulling your actual leg? That would be awful.

“But sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night to pee she is looking at me. Like this.” little girl makes a strange vacant doll face.

“That is creepy.” mother thinks.

“Can you put her some place? I am afraid of her.” Little one looks so worried that the only answer is yes.

“I will put her away in my closet. How does that sound?” Mother offers.

“Good!” the little girl hands the doll to her mother and walks away. Mother looks at the beautiful doll with the big blue eyes and sees why she could be a little creepy. They look real, those eyes. Like they have a soul. She takes the doll into her closet and puts her in a box and covers the doll up with a blanket because she is chicken shit and always has been. For a scaredy-cat she sure spends a lot of time reassuring her children of their safety and sleeping alone. It is times like these that she wished her husband had a typical nine to five job. She got tired of being brave all of the time. But all of the wishes in the world wouldn’t change it and she knew that. She just needed to grow up and face her fears. She closed the closet door because if that fucking doll gets up in the middle of the night she wanted to hear her coming. How much noise could that plastic doll make anyway. At least she would have to climb something and turn the knob of the closet door and hopefully that will be enough noise to wake the mother up.

She gets the children to bed. It is almost eleven o’clock and she still hasn’t heard from her husband. It must have been a long day for him. She is tired and she doesn’t even bother turning the tv on. She falls asleep quickly.

She wakes up to a strange scraping noise. She startles awake. She peers around the room in search of the sound. There it is again. It’s a scratching, but where is it coming from? The closet door handle rattles and she knows it’s that fucking creepy American Horror doll come to life. She contemplates moving. This house is nice but this is not where she wants to die and not like this. She hears the door handle rattle again and her heart is beating so hard she thinks it might beat right out of her chest. She looks at the clock and it is two-thirty in the morning. The scratching at the closet door is more persistent and she is certain that the doll is more than likely going to get it open. She looks around the room for something to use to protect herself with. Why does she always seem to be fighting possessed dolls all by herself. In most horror stories there is a man there to save the beautiful heroine. That’s when she decides that when there isn’t a man in the story the women is bad ass. Like Sigourney Weaver! That must mean that she was actually made to kick some serious possessed doll’s ass. Like her bad ass mofo grandma. So she grabs her glass of water and she goes to the closet door and she turns the doorknob slowly. All the while feeling faint because bad ass mofo is not really what she is made of . She is made of hurry up and run and maybe sacrifice the house in the process. But no, She is the heroine in this haunted story. She is the one who will save her family from grave peril tonight. There will be stories written on the internet about her bravery. These tales will be told for generations to come by perhaps E.M.F. to her beautiful baby boy, about the great heroism of his great-aunt a descendant of Grandma the baddest mofo  with her NyQuil tonic and her steely demeanor. Yes, it is finally this mother’s time to face the horrors in her closest and throw this glass of water on that horrible bitch of a doll who has terrorized her baby girl all of these months.

She slowly turns the knob and pulls the door open and what happened next almost was too much to bear. Her poor heart, did I mention that she has a heart murmur. She really wasn’t made to be a heroine. She has asthma and scoliosis and a heart murmur, does that sound like a fucking heroine to you. I don’t remember wonder woman taking a break mid-asskicking to puff her inhaler. But there she was ready for action with her glass of water, wheezing wildly when her cat bounds out of the closet with a meow thanking her. She screams throws the glass of water into the closet, yes glass and all and she looks to see that the cat was in there alone. The cat appeared to be working all by herself and that is a good turn of events because if her beloved cat was converted to help the American Horror doll then that would definitely be the worst. It could happen though, because it is close to Halloween and that’s what Halloween is about.

Her son is now standing in the doorway of her bedroom asking if everything is alright. Her son is holding his metal baseball bat that he sleeps with in his bed, because he is told to be the man of the house when dad isn’t there. She smiles at her brave, oh so brave son and she says “Yes, it was the cat.” The cat jumped up in her bed and is now purring loudly ready for a cuddle. She sees the relief settle over her son’s body and he drops his stance. He puts the bat in the corner of the bedroom.

“Are you good mom?” he asks.

“I’m good, sweetheart! You are such a strong man coming to check on your foolish mother. I really have let my imagination get the best of me tonight.” she chuckles. “Are you going to be able to get back to sleep?” she knows that her adrenaline is pumping.

“No! That was too much excitement.” he admits.

“It sure was. I’m so sorry I woke you.” she says. “Do you want to curl up and watch some tv in mom’s bed?”

He nods his head. “Nothing scary though.”

“Nothing scary I promise.” she pulls him in close. They find a fun kid’s movie…which was probably Anchorman because it was the middle of the night and there are no kid’s movies on at three in the morning. And she had to find something that wasn’t horribly inappropriate. So Anchorman! She is a good mother, don’t judge her. She just saved the world from that horrific possessed doll and this isn’t the first time. She is a heroine and she is highly unknown. So you’re welcome!!!!

That doll stayed in her closet until the mother heard that another little girl wanted one and those shits are expensive. The doll clearly wasn’t possessed and so she passed it on to another well deserving family. That little girl loved the doll very well and it was a happy ever after for everyone involved. Mostly because of this brave woman though, she is truly a hero and so E.M.F. should tell her great-nephew what an absolute brave family he was born into. I love you and him dearly! E.M.F. you are a heroine of your own right. I am proud of you! Give that boy a big smooch for me.

Moral of the story never let your imagination write your story if you are going to always die a painful death. Tell your imagination that you are going to save lives and fight demons and be the victor in your story. If your imagination doesn’t come on board take the  keyboard and delete, delete, delete until you have a story you can live with. I love you all!

Until next time 🙂

I have three children and there was a time when I had to take them trick or treating and leave the house unattended. I actually would start to have anxiety about this the week before Halloween. I would always buy ten bags of candy in the largest amount that I could find at my local store. I say my local store because where I live that store changed. We at one time had slim pickings as to where we could shop for candy. Our town currently today has four pharmacies and three dollar stores a supermarket and a Super Walmart which stays open all night. It wasn’t like that when we moved here. We had a sleepy town that closed down by eight pm.

My husband announced that he wouldn’t be here for Halloween night. He had a business trip and blah blah blah…I stopped listening because I had all of the information I needed. I was being left here with three small children on the scariest night of the year. His reasons were insufficient because he knows how much I hate Halloween. So unless there is a really good reason, which I cannot even think of a good example so clearly there is not, then you really should be here to protect me from things that I conjure up in my mind. I don’t make the rules I live by them!!!!

“Why not?” I cried in my sleep. I knew I couldn’t handle Halloween on my own. Witches get their powers and of the devil always looking to possess me, not to mention someone has to take the kids trick or treating and someone needed to stay home to hand out candy. It’s like the piggy game we play with on our babies’ feet. This little piggy cried and said “No you must stay home!” I wonder which piggy would get possessed and how would the other’s react being so close in proximity to each other. That would be horrible! It’s like having a possessed siamese twin! Gulp! I’m sorry I have just terrified myself and may need to go sit in a safe place for a while…like a padded cell!

So my husband was on a business trip and I was on costume duty. My kids were dressed in store-bought costumes because somewhere along the way I decided that store bought was the way to go. I don’t remember which costumes that they wore so I am going to just say three random costumes that my children have dressed in. My oldest was dressed up like Jessie from Toy story. My son was dressed up as Peter Pan, and my youngest was dressed up as a Unicorn. This Unicorn costume came in handy for the rest of their lives. (side note….my kids all got their mother’s sense of humor. There were times when for no reason at all they would come downstairs wearing that unicorn costume and act as though it was super normal. It was always random and It was always hilarious.)

I take half of the candy and I put it in my gigantic bowl that I use for Halloween and I put it outside on a step-ladder and I draped a piece of red velvet fabric over the ladder to make it look dramatic. I put a note written in scroll in the spirit of the holiday stating “Take one handful, even take two, leave some for others as they have done for you!” (clever huh?) I knew the neighborhood kids and I was pretty certain that they would take a lot but I had a lot so I thought this is going to work. I get my flashlights and hand one to each kid. I put my dog on a leash because he was not a fan of Halloween either and off we go.  We live on the cul-de-sac and so we start closest to home first. I tell the kids that we only go to the houses with their lights on because those without lights don’t believe in Halloween! (Ah the circle of life! Actually it was more like the circle of confusion because my kids would say “They don’t believe in it? It’s not that kind of holiday!”)

We get to our third house so we were gone and I will be very liberal with my time, fifteen minutes….fifteen minutes and there was five enormous bags of fun size candies in that glorious candy bowl with my note of clever rhyming, when one of the older kids bellow out to me with anger “Hey, Miss Becki! There’s no more candy at your house!” Then the kids behind her all laugh. Then one yells “Get us more candy!” then another “Or we are going to egg your house!” They laugh and go about their debauchery. I look at my kids and they are all wide-eyed and a little horrified. Another neighbor was coming up the driveway that we were standing in and she says “Do you want me to take your kids with us so you can go deal with that?” Little does she know that I don’t want to deal with that. I’m not a “Go deal with that” type of person. I’m more of a “let me go pretend that this isn’t happening” type of person!

My kids were excited about trick or treating with their friends and so I take the dog back home with me. I walk over to the porch to get my most prized Halloween candy bowl and guess what? Those little fuckers took everything, the candy, the bowl, the note, the red velvet and all that was left was the step-ladder. I look around and they took our Halloween decorations too. My dog starts growling because there are small children approaching the house and he’s not a fan of small children. I run inside and I grab a bag of candy and answer the door with the bag in hand like some kind of animal. After these kids left I go in search of another big bowl and I find one that is half the size of the one that I lost. I empty candy in and I answer the door with this small dish and the funny thing is when You use a large dish children dig in with both hands and take handfuls. When you use a smaller dish they simply pick out their favorites. It’s a longer process because they have to weigh their options and sometimes check to see that you aren’t hiding the most amazing candies on the bottom. Some of the smaller children just stand there and wait for you to put it in their bags. So I found my cultural experiment fun (it’s the psychologist in me) and I witness that the size of your bowl really does count.

I hear the kids that hollered to me coming back around and they all look at me with shit eating grins on their faces and say “You finally got more candy!”

Finally? Like it had been weeks! I smile and I say nothing. they take their handfuls of candy and they say goodbye and they all laugh as they do so. I close the door and I smile because the truth be told, I figured some one would have taken all of the candy. I only put half out for that very reason. I wasn’t shocked or surprised that the kids who more than likely took the candy, the bowl, the note and the decorations would come back for more. You see, they wanted to see if they could get away with it. The answer is yes. However, my conscience is clear and here is why, it really is only candy and a few inexpensive trinkets. I didn’t really mind that they took it (except my bowl because I loved that bowl). Kids get dressed up on Halloween and they get ballsy and they do things that they wouldn’t ordinarily do…like petty theft. In the morning they are going to have too much candy and too much guilt. What I could’ve done to them would have given them a reason to blame me. When I did nothing and handed them more candy that’s when they no longer had me to blame. I did nothing wrong. Now they have to live with the conscience.

My kids came with their friends all at my door and they knock and giggle. I open the door and invite them all inside. I had made goodies for them. My neighbor and I laughed at how the kids took everything off of my doorstep. She said “At least they didn’t take the step-ladder!” and we laughed some more. Over all it was a nice night. The kids each took from our new candy bowl and after eating some ‘grave-digger pudding’ my neighbor and her kids left. My children told me about their night. I allowed them one candy that I gave them and I told them that I had to check their other candy for tampering. My son is like me and it surprises me in no  way to find out that he had already been checking it.

There was a knock on my door and it is more trick or treaters. It’s funny because the trick or treaters that come later on are teenagers that are barely dressed up and just looking for candy. My oldest daughter and son do the honors of handing the candy out. The teenagers that know they are probably a bit too old for trick or treating are usually less greedy and take one candy.

“You can take more than that!” my oldest daughter announces.

“Yeah, take a whole handful, we have too much and we can’t eat it all.” my son agrees.

“Are you sure?” teenagers being humble.

“Yes please take all that you can. I doubt many others are coming after you.” I say from behind my children with the youngest in my arms.

“Hey, thanks!” the teenagers take their handfuls and they are all smiles.

“Some people tell us that we are too old for trick or treating and they won’t give us anything.” one of the boys says and I am pretty certain he is eighteen.

“You can be too old for trick or treating?” my son asks worried.

“No, you can never be too old for trick or treating.” I tell them, “You kids have a safe night alright.” I smile and wave off the young adults.

I close the door and latch the lock and look at my children who need to start thinking about bed. I hear a knock on the door. I walk over and the eighteen year old is standing on my doorstep with a bowl in his hand. I open the door and he smiles.

“Is this yours?” he asks as he is holding my beautiful Halloween bowl.

“Yes it is!” I announce.

“Yeah I just found it down by your mailbox!” He smiles politely.

“Well, I was wondering where that went.” I take it from him. “Thank you so much!”

“No problem!” he begins to turn away “Have a goodnight!”

“You too! Stay safe!” I say and I close the door and latch it again.

“He brought back our bowl?” my son says.

“Yup! They found it down by the mailbox!” I ruffle my son’s hair.

“They were nice to do that!” my son tells me.

“Yes, they were very nice to do that!” I agree.

“Hey mom, can you help me with her costume?” My oldest comes to the top of the stairs and my youngest is standing with her unicorn costume inside out and all stuck on her head. I run up and help with the situation.

My children take their baths and get into their jammies and they are excited and sleepy all at the same time. They want me to read from their Harry Potter books. I get them all tucked into mom’s bed because it’s Halloween and that’s a little scary for some of us. (yes I mean me…but maybe them too) I read to them and they all begin to get heavy eyelids.

I get them all into their own beds and I hear my phone ring. It’s my husband. “So how did it go?”

“It was fine. Some kids took all of the candy, bowl and all……” I tell him the events of the night. He and I laugh because we think it’s funny what some kids do. I told him about the polite teenagers and he is glad that they found the bowl. It was such a nice night. I still don’t like Halloween, but you see sometimes kids will act exactly as you would expect them to. Others will surprise you by their acts of kindness. Halloween is just another night, but it allows us to socialize as we don’t normally do. Think about the last time you just walked up to your neighbor’s door! For most of us it was probably Halloween night for trick or treating. For me that was several years ago!

Moral of my story: Halloween is a time of fun and unity. We go to the houses that we “trust”. Do you normally trust your neighbor? I mean if you do and you frequent their house for say a barbecue maybe don’t check your pulled pork for razor blades that maybe offensive. But if you don’t normally talk to your neighbor, why not on Halloween night say more than just a few socially awkward sentences. You’re out and socializing. Strike up a conversation with those whom you haven’t seen in a while. Community is not the same as it used to be. I know that for me, I hardly ever see my neighbors. I miss the old days when our children were little and we would stand outside while the kids would play and we could talk. Also if you do put a dish of candy out unattended, know that someone might take the dish, decorations and all. They are kids and kids do things because they are learning. It is not your job to teach them a lesson. The lesson is built in the guilt. Also when some older teenager types show up at your house looking for candy, don’t judge them. My kids loved trick or treating and they would take their youngest sister as a decoy for them to get candy too. Growing up is inevitable and hard. If you could dress up and go door to door on Halloween night without being judged, you’d do it too. These late bloomers are just holding onto something dear to them, their childhood, let them. As for me, Halloween is coming again and our neighborhood is getting older. Sure we have some children and some of our neighbors have grandchildren now, but we get less trick or treaters these days. It makes me nostalgic for the good ole days when my children were one of the many running around Halloween night. I am still not a fan of Halloween witch powers though, that shit scares me!

Until next time 🙂

Today I want to start with the fact that I know our Country and World is aching from recent events and tragedies. I do not want to come across flippant and I don’t want anyone to think that I am unaware of what is happening. The truth is I am very aware and I urge anyone who reads my blog that if you are hurting please reach out to someone you love or a professional. If you feel alone, please reach out to me. The truth is that moments like this are difficult to process and we all need one another to pull us through. I also believe in God and I know that his plan for us is good. During turmoil it is difficult to sit and wait upon the Lord. If you cannot sit, go for a walk in nature and watch how the animals move about with trust. Help someone else in need. Please do not suffer alone there are people who can help.

I like to laugh when I am feeling a little unsure. I hope that this story puts a smile of your face.

My story today is Trick or Treating 1970’s version. In the seventies Trick or Treating was different from it is today. Or maybe it only was for me. I have mentioned that we did not have a lot of money. Trick or Treating for a kid with very little money is like begging without shame and dressing up so no one recognizes you. We never bought costumes we simply wore what we had lying around the house or could borrow from friends. My sister and I took dance lessons so we were fortunate enough to plenty of sequined pieces to choose from. However we lived in Massachusetts and Halloween in Massachusetts is cold. In fact I think that is where the term “colder than a witch’s tit!” came from. If you haven’t heard this expression then I have to point out that my mother’s colloquialisms aren’t always well know, but I grew up with them and think that they are a thing that people in general say. It’s what makes me quirky. I say my mother’s homespun colloquialisms and come across as strange.

So we are less likely to wear our sequins costumes out on Halloween night because they are too flimsy for the cold Massachusetts air. Also a part of me didn’t want to get a terrible case of “Witch’s tit!” because I never truly understood what that saying was warning me about. I didn’t know if I got too cold I would develop a deformity and have to go to the doctor. “I think I got too cold and now I have Witch’s Tit” They are green and fly around the room on a broom. Due to the fear of catching “Witch’s Tit” I typically would be dressed up as a “housewife!” my costume was incredibly insensitive and downright offensive…because I was in pajamas, a house coat, slippers and curlers in my hair. I currently am a housewife….which we now call “stay at home mom” probably because of little assholes like me ruining the images of hardworking housewives everywhere. But that’s besides the point, I just wanted to wear as many layers as I could so that I didn’t catch a cold or something way worse (you know what that is).

Also I would like to point out that apparently when we were kids we were always surprised by Halloween. We didn’t think about our costumes until that night. Like “Oh today is Halloween? Let me scrounge around my closets and find something that could pass off as a costume.” Now that we were dressed up in our home made…that isn’t the right term…home searched? Thrown together costumes? I don’t know clothes that we layered on so that we could beg for candy without freezing, was actually the accurate term. So anyway we look at one another and there is me as the “housewife”, my sister as the “kid going to bed” (which is similar to mine but she has pigtails and a stuffed animal), my brother the mechanic (wearing regular clothes and carrying a wrench) and my other brother a musician (regular clothes carrying a guitar case because that’s where his candy is going). I had two older brothers but they didn’t Trick or Treat with us. They partook in mischief night instead.

As we are leaving the house with our older brothers babysitting us, my mother would give us the rules:

“Don’t go to houses with the lights out because they don’t believe in Halloween!” (wait, what? they don’t believe in Halloween? what does that even mean? according to my older brothers that means they get their house egged and toilet papered)

“Make sure you wait up for Becki. She is small and can’t walk as fast as you.” (My brother would always end up giving me piggy backs because he would be impatient with me. I always had to check my candy for razor blades after I got it. I wanted to make sure I could tell the cops exactly where I got it.)

“Don’t forget to bring the flashlights.” (I didn’t get one because we only had three and they flickered because they were shitty and the batteries were usually going dead.)

“Don’t walk in the road. Make sure you go in the grass instead.” (we never listened to this one. The grass was always wet and I was in my slippers. We always walked in the road until a car came then we would jump in the grass in case they knew our mother and had tattle-taling in their hearts.)

And last but not least! And now that I am an adult I laugh and laugh about this last, but very important rule…. “DON’T GO TRICK OR TREATING AT THE HIPPY HOUSE!”

The hippy house was brown and set off the road a bit. I don’t really know why my parent’s called it the hippy house or how they knew that hippies lived there. But we were on no uncertain terms allowed to go near the hippy house. If we were in an apocalypse type situation and the Hippy House had Jesus outside calling me in I would kick him in the shins and run away because let’s be serious Jesus (at least the versions I grew up with) looks like a hippy. Hippies were bad.

Now I don’t know what my parents thought was going to happen. I mean I suppose they could be handing out pot brownies or something. Or worst yet all in the house super paranoid from the pot they smoked. Halloween was probably amazingly horrifying for those poor high hippies. “Dude, someone’s at the door! It’s a cop and he came with Frankenstein and a cowboy. I knew we were going to get busted!” (Cheech and Chong style)

Off we went on our Trick or Treating excursion and I saw that my black cat named Kitkat was following us. My brother says “Becki go bring Kitkat home before the witches take him.”

I was told this every single year. I was so afraid that Kitkat was going to have witches waiting around for Halloween night just to take him for their own. I don’t know why they couldn’t take him any other night but I thought that they only have powers on Halloween night. But Witch’s tit is like herpies and you have that shit for life. I take my enormous black cat back home and he purrs all the way home. Kitkat had distemper when he was a kitten and he couldn’t meow at all. He was quiet and his purr was magical. It warmed my  soul to hear it.

Now that my cat is safe I have to catch up to my siblings who continued with out me. My second oldest brother waited for me. He put me on his back and off we went. We went to all of the houses that we knew and to be honest that was about ten (at the most) houses and then we went back home. We would trick or treat at our house last and my mother would give us a handful each. Then my mother would check our candy for razor blades and injection holes. I already did this but she insists on doing it again.

That night we were allowed to eat one candy….I always chose Good n’ plenty because there was always good n’ plenty, meaning that it was the most bang for the buck. One snickers bar was not as profitable as one box filled with good n plenties. Oh by the way in the seventies there wasn’t “fun size”. We got full size candy. So I would get full eating my candy and have to put them away for later. Another good choice was neco wafers, there was a lot of those too….except those tasted like pepto bismol and chalk. I always gave those away. We also would separate our candy to see who got the best candy….The most highly coveted candy was thousand grand bars. That was like having money. I would keep mine until everyone else’s candy was gone and eat them in front of them. The problem with this plan is that I would feel bad and share. One year someone stole all of my candy. I blame the hippies. Or the witches. These are the bad guys in my Halloween tale.

As for the Hippy House….It burned down when I was older and the entire neighborhood smelled like (skunk, I thought it was skunk. I was told that it was ‘wacky tobacky’ by someone. But I didn’t know what that meant. Then I was told that it was skunk cabbage and so I told everyone at school that the hippy house burned and that they lost their crops of skunk cabbage and wacky tobacky! because I was helpful like that.) I also remember my parents telling us to not breathe when we were outside during that fire because the smoke was bad for us. Could you imagine the poor fire fighters on the scene of that fire. I don’t know if they used air filters back then or if that would help in a massive marijuana blaze. But needless to say the Hippy house burned down in a toxic blaze and they never did rebuild. I never found out what happened to the poor hippies that lived there. My mother said that all made it out safely because I asked constantly about the hippies. “Mom, what about the hippies, did they burn up in the fire?”

“No, they made it out safe. You need to go to bed now, that fire was a month ago. You need to stop worrying about the hippies, Becki.”

“Okay. You are sure they made it out safe?” she nodded and told me to go to bed.

addendum: no hippies were harmed during the making of this story.

Moral of my story: The seventies were a strange time. People were told to be afraid of “Hippies” truth is labeling to dehumanize groups still happens. My parents were just trying to be good parents they didn’t want us to be harmed and they could only go with the information that they had. For all of you hippies out there, I apologize for insulting you, I also apologize for insulting housewives, and witches and their tits. (I’m sure your tits are warm and lovely) Also spending money on costumes seems like such an extravagance these days….I went trick or treating in my pajamas for years and every year I got candy and I was ready for bed when I got home. Be safe trick or treating and check your candy for tampering. Also don’t egg and toilet paper people’s houses that is not nice.

Until next time 🙂

Before you pop your popcorn and set the mood to have the hair raise on the back of your neck. Perhaps waiting to have every creek make you shutter in fear for your safety. I would like to point out that it’s not that scary. I mean it isn’t gross scary, it’s just that I am mostly a chicken shit and really have no balls. My imagination runs away with me and that is why this was scary…..for me!

So let me set the stage for my story by telling you that my daughter was away at college in Virginia and my favorite hotel to stay at while I visited her was built in 1882. It is a beautiful grand hotel and I absolutely love it. I was going down one weekend to visit my oldest daughter and my youngest daughter was coming with me. My oldest daughter was about twenty-years old which makes my youngest fourteen-years old. My son was in his first year of college. My husband stayed at home to take care of my menagerie of animals.

We get to the hotel and as we are checking in the woman at the front desk says to me, “Oh you are in luck, you are staying in one of the oldest rooms in our hotel!”

I hear “Oh Shit, you are staying in the fucking haunted room, Peace be with you. Should you make it through the night there will be coffee for the bravest of souls in the lobby in the morning!”

I walk the corridor to our room and because this is an old historic hotel it has  mini-museum corners with dishes and pictures and as we ascend the hallway in one corner is a dress dummy wearing a maid uniform. Oh and next to this poor unfortunate dress dummy that is apparently wearing the uniform of what I can only assume is the ‘butchered maid from some famous murder that I am as of yet unaware of’ is my room. Oh Thank God! I get the extra fucking creep factor. But I have my fourteen-year old daughter with me so that I have to be brave. We enter the ‘haunted’ room and put our bags down. There is an air purifier in the room because I am asthmatic and my husband requests one every time I travel. The air purifier makes a quiet white noise buzz and I like it. It can cover the sound of that murdered maid’s heavy breathing.

Once we are settled in our room and I make the appropriate phone calls to my husband to tell him that we made it safely and my oldest daughter to tell her that we arrived. We make our arrangements of what to do next. My oldest daughter was coming to the hotel to meet us and to take us to dinner. My youngest is super excited because there was some talk about her older sister maybe staying in the hotel room with us.

You see when your college aged sister says “MAYBE!” to “Can you stay with us tonight?” That is a hard yes for a fourteen-year old. We go out to dinner and my oldest daughter’s cell phone is “blowing up” with texts. As dinner wore on my oldest daughter’s plans are drawing out and her night is about to begin. My youngest daughter is still thinking that big sister is staying in the room and maybe we can rent a movie on the hotel tv AND our dessert from room service. To my youngest, this is an exciting night. To my oldest college student daughter, this is a quiet night in with mom. We get back to the hotel and my oldest daughter comes to the room with us. She even points to the ‘poor beheaded maid’ in the corner and I say “Oh I didn’t even see that !” I lied because what I want to do is to forget that I have ever seen it. Because that thing is what nightmares are made of!!!

“So do you want to order room service dessert?” my youngest asks. My oldest looks at her hopeful little sister and she grimaces a bit.

“Hey, little one, remember when I said that I was going back to my dorm tonight to hang out with my friends?” oldest trying to let her down easy.

“Yes, but you also said that you might stay here with us.” she beams because she only hears what she wants to hear.

“No, what I said was I might, IF nothing comes up, but something HAS come up. My friends are all going to the a capella show on campus and I am going to go with them.” oldest still trying to let her down easy.

“But your friends get to see you every day!” youngest not being let down EASY, she’d rather go the HARD route instead.

“We can still get room service and rent a movie. I am all over that bread pudding they have here.” I announce to no one, because I was not the reason the fourteen-year old came.

“Mom, I can see you any time I want to. I want to spend time with my sister.” youngest is really hurt.

My phone rings and it’s my husband and I take it. The girls are talking amongst themselves and by the time I get off the phone with their dad the plan has morphed into a win/win for everybody but mom, because I am being left to fight off that fucking Dead and clearly possessed maid in the damned hallway. That bitch has been giving me the ole evil eye since I walked into the place.

“Are you sure you want to take her with you to your dorm?” I ask pretending that it is about anyone else but me.

“Yeah its fine, she’s cool! Everyone will love her.” My oldest says. This is all true. My youngest is beyond excited about this turn of events.

My youngest has packed up everything that she had taken out when we arrived and she is at the door clearly broken up about leaving me here by myself. I literally have no one to be brave for. I do not know how to be brave for myself so I am going to shit myself if I hear any unusual noise. (as if on cue that fucking air purifier starts purifying my air loudly now) No I didn’t shit myself but I was not loving it.

I give kisses and tell them to let me know when they get to the dorm. I tell the youngest one to text me throughout the night to let me know how much fun she is having. They agree with my demands and off they went. It’s just me, my noise making air cleaner and Wanda the psycho maid that was beheaded because she was pure evil. Why did they even keep her uniform anyway? I mean really she was not a great person, she was horrifyingly the worst, honestly!

I lie in bed and start reading my book. It is about murder and I decide that this is the dumbest idea I have ever had. I didn’t order room service even though I was now hankering for that amazing bread pudding because I was afraid that Wanda was going to deliver it. Could you imagine a headless waitress in an old timey uniform delivering delicious bread pudding. On the one hand it’s bread pudding on the other hand it is probably my last meal, which is great because it is bread pudding! I turn on the tv and watch food network because that is never scary and guess what, it was all about dessert. Great! I remember that they gave me cookies when we checked in. I search the room as a woman who needed her fix of sugar and chocolate would. I’m flipping mattresses and moving furniture! I can’t find that brown bag filled with gooey delicious chocolate-chip cookies that melt in your mouth and in your hands so that you get to lick your fingers after the cookie is all gone. I text my youngest.

“Hey cutie! How’s it going? Are you having fun?”

“Yup!”

“That’s good! BTW do you know where the cookies ended up?”

“I’ve got them!”

“Ok, cool! Have fun tonight!” I lied! It was NOT cool! I am in this damned death trap of a hotel room with the killer maid ghost waiting for me to fall asleep and I don’t even get to eat sugar to calm my nerves. I decide to change the channel. I watch “Modern Family” and that makes me slightly less paranoid. I finally fall asleep while watching television at around ten or so. I hear some strange noise that interrupts my sleep. I wake up with my fight or flight response kicking all the way in and I realize that I am not at home. I get up to use the bathroom and I look at myself in the mirror. I have done this ever since I was a little girl and my brothers watched “The Exorcist” in our living room and even though I didn’t watch it and  only listened to it, I was fucking horrified. I have, ever since that day, checked myself in the mirror in the middle of the night to make sure that I wasn’t possessed. The problem is that the mirrors and lighting in hotels are not the same as at home and there is some weird shading going across my face and I was all like “Well shit, I’m possessed! Fucking great! What am I going to do now?”

I turned on the light and I look at myself long and hard in the mirror and decide that I was probably ok. But I say the Lord’s Prayer just to be safe. Jesus, save my sorry soul, Okay?

I walk into the bedroom portion of my hotel room with the bathroom light still on and I turn all of the other lights on too, for safe measure. Now there is plenty of light in my hotel room so that I can see if anything is coming for me. I grab my cell phone and see that my youngest took pics and sent them to me. They look like they are having such a great time. I start flipping through channels to find something that won’t scare the wits out of me.

When I was younger it was “The Love Boat” that I would watch to calm me down. I don’t know why but that show was soothing to me. Tonight it is an old rerun of “Friends”. I text my husband and ask if he is awake, it is one in the morning and my girls are still awake and doing make overs or some such thing. My son is still awake and having fun with his friends. My husband is not. I eventually fall back to sleep and I stay asleep until the morning. I text the girls and tell them that I am awake. I get no response. I go down to the lobby and get myself a coffee, because I am survivor that’s why, and go outside for a walk. I am no longer afraid of the peril that is clearly besieging this hotel at night. I am alive and the sun is shining and I am ready to start my day. I go to my room and grab my book about murder and I take it outside. I get another coffee and I sit and read my murder mystery until I hear from my girls. We had a lovely day and then night-time comes again and sure enough my youngest wants to sleep at her sister’s dorm tonight too. AND LEAVE ME TO FIGHT OFF THE SCARY DEPTHS OF THE ANCIENT HALLS OF THIS FUCKING FRIGHTFEST OF A HOTEL ROOM????? Ugh! I’m not that brave! I was almost possessed last night, by Wanda! She is horrific and blood-thirsty! Someone should warn people about her really!

My oldest looks at me for help because one night with your little sister at college is fun, two nights is maybe less fun.

“You know what? I actually missed you last night. The hotel was unfamiliar and I really would like it if you would stay here with me.” I was telling the truth and I am certain the desperation in my voice and the pure horror in my tired eyes showed it.

“Okay Mom, I’ll stay here with you!” my youngest looks at my oldest and says “I think Mom is afraid to stay here alone, don’t you?”

Yes! Yes I am. I am absolutely terrified of this OLDEST ROOM IN THE HOTEL, haunted mess. Especially with the murderous Wanda the psychopath maid ghost waiting for me to let my guard down. But now with my fourteen year old here I am super mama bear and you are going to have to go through me you stupid deranged bitch!

My oldest thanks me with her grateful eyes and she leaves us to fend for ourselves. Fending for ourselves involved bread pudding and watching a movie that was still in theaters right there in the privacy of our own hotel room with our pjs on. We snuggle up and watched our movie with a belly full of warm sweet magnificent dessert. I was prepared to sleep well tonight because I know that if anything decides to show up and mess with my kid I will do my worst all over them! I say my prayers because I still need back up. We go to sleep. The next morning we check out of the haunted mansion and I look at the building fondly because as haunted as it is (or is not as the case may be) it is a gorgeous building. We get into our car we stop in at the little coffee shop on the campus for breakfast with my oldest. We say our goodbyes and head back home.

All the way home my youngest told me all about the people she met at college and about all of the wonderful things they had done. I love taking in these moments. The excitement of a fourteen year old who had a college-lite experience with her big sister blazing the way. We both grew that weekend. I found that even though I was afraid to stay in that room by myself, I put my daughter’s fun first. I just as easily could have rained on her parade and said that she was too young to stay in a college dorm. I didn’t! I was brave for her after all!

Moral of the story: I am a chicken-shit baby that had to stay in a haunted room that may or may not have had a psychopath killer ghost maid named Wanda and lived to tell the tale. Also it is October and I plan to tell Halloween type stories! Please check in periodically to see how I am doing. Halloween as you can suspect is Not my favorite! I don’t need scary television shows…I can do it to myself all on my own.

Until next time 🙂

My children are competitive! No I mean super competitive! Like they are CERTAIN that there is a large cash prize at the end, competitive! I like to start family game night with my catch phrase “Gerd your loins folks, its family game night!”

So it all started when I had more than one child. My oldest daughter was four-years old and my son was two-years old and they wanted to play a game of Candy Land! I got the rectangular, colorful box out with zero expectations of how this game was going to go down. I mean how bad could it be? The colorful squares and the counting and the nice characters. Sure occasionally you get stuck in molasses swamp (who is smiling by the way) or have to miss a turn because you land on a piece of licorice, but my kids are young and they just want to have fun. Right? Right?

So we set up the board and shuffle the cards and then pick our game pieces. My oldest chooses blue. My son chooses red and I take green. All is good. The rules say that the youngest goes first.

“I will just go first to teach him how!” my oldest states as she picks up the card and moves her piece.

“Ok!” my son smiles because this is his first time playing. He’s just happy to be included.

My son picks up a double orange card and moves his little red man past my daughter. She watches him closely and then smiles and says “Good job!”

The next go around he gets another double. And then the next go around He gets a shortcut.

“I don’t think he can take the shortcut?” my daughter

“Why?” he asks

“Because I think that you didn’t land on it.” she points.

“Yes, I did!” He points to his piece.

“Yes, he landed on it.” I interject.

She recounts the spaces and then sits back with this look on her face. The look was menacing because at this point she is starting to realize that she might actually lose the game. Her game. It’s her favorite game! She then starts to count the spaces and then she says “But you could land here in the molasses and then you are stuck!”

Oh that’s the spirit, point out how he could lose. I hear this and I think nothing of it. I had siblings and I have heard this uttered during a game “It’s you turn, pick your nose! Are you going to keep picking your nose or ya gonna play?” because kids playing board games are savage!

So My daughter keeps telling him that if he gets two greens and a blue he is stuck in the molasses. Well while she was pointing out how he could lose she didn’t realize that she was heading straight to the molasses herself. She was so concerned about controlling his loss that she no longer was playing to win. So needless to say, he ends up winning. What happens next is the most overreaction to losing a game of Candy Land I have ever witnessed in my whole life.

“Wait! What? You didn’t draw the orange. He didn’t get orange!” She starts in.

My son still holding his card shows it to her and he says with an ‘in yo face’ tone “Orange!”

She looks at his card. She looks at the board and then she looks at him. “You didn’t win!”

“I won!” he smiles.

“No you didn’t! Mom, tell him! He didn’t win!” she looks at me with this hurt look in her big blue eyes. She’s four, where is this coming from?

“He won honey! It’s okay! We can play again.” I say.

She walks over to the board game and begins to pick up the pieces. Cool! She’s setting it up so that we can play again. While she picks it up, though, her movements get more and more forceful. She then grabs the board with all of the pieces and leaves the room. She takes her beloved game of Candy Land and throws the entire thing into the fucking trash. The trash is filled with wet gross spaghetti and there is no God Damned way that I am digging in that trash to salvage her game. I am a good mom. I am not THAT Mom! You want to throw away your game in a tantrum, be my guest. But I will not stick my hand in the garbage to take it out. Consequences!

“Why?” I ask “Why did you do that?”

She looks at me and shrugs “That Candy Land is broken!” she  states and then she saunters off to her room to play alone. I look at my son, who is two-years old and he smiles and says “I won!”

“You sure did Bud!” and we went on with our lives. It was years before we had another Candy Land game board. In fact my youngest daughter got it as a gift from one of her friends. This was the deluxe version and there were Princess pieces and an actual rainbow bridge. We still have that game board, in fact!

I would like to say that Family game night got better than Candy Land in the garbage because someone lost. It did not.

One night I suggest playing Yahtzee. I love Yahtzee and it’s a game of chance. Sure we had clue and Balderdash and (Oh for the love of Christ don’t play fucking) Risk or Monopoly. My kids have had wars over games of strategy. My son took a dog bone to the head over a game called “balloon volleyball”! Yahtzee seemed safe.

“Why don’t we play Yahtzee!” I suggest. It’s a weekend and my husband was in Europe. I just wanted to sit down and relax.

“Okay!” the kids agree.

We start playing. My son rolls a perfect all sixes Yahtzee on his first roll.

“Good job Bud!” I say.

“He cheats!” My youngest starts.

I look at my son who laughs if you accuse him of anything. You could look at my son (who is ten years old at this point) and say   “You are an alien, aren’t you?” and he would laugh suspiciously. Try parenting that. My son, my poor son, couldn’t handle being accused. He didn’t even have to do the thing that he was accused of, just the accusation was enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He always looked guilty.

He is giggling.

“Are you cheating?” I ask

He says “No! Mom, its Yahtzee, how do you cheat?”

I look at the cup and the dice and I agree Yahtzee is not a game you can easily cheat at. I however keep an eye on him.

My turn and I roll and I get shit and mark down a one.

My oldest rolls a full house.

My youngest gets a three of a kind. She marks it as the actual number instead of the three of a kind. There is considerable debate as to what she should have marked.

“You guys think you are so smart!” she announces.

“You are doing fine!” I say. “Kids, leave your sister alone. Keep your eyes on your own paper.”

My son then rolls another perfect all sixes yahtzee among all of the kerfuffle.

“He’s cheating!” my youngest states.

My son sitting there looking at her with shock that she was so brazen to call him a cheater.

“How am I cheating?” he asks.

“You are cheating. I just know that you are cheating.” she says and now the temperature in the room is getting to be about eight hundred degrees and balmy.

“Are you cheating?” I ask.

He starts giggling.

“That roll doesn’t count because we weren’t ready!” My oldest daughter states. We all agree, except my son, but he’s affable and he rolls again. This time he gets his full house.

My youngest rolls and gets garbage and then marks a zero for her full house. My two others tell her not to do that. “Just take a three. What happens if you roll a full house?”

She looks at them and you can tell that she is just pissed. I am looking around the room for anything that she can launch in their direction. We are sitting in my bed and there are only soft things within her grasp. So I think that we are ok.

“You can mark down whatever you want!” I say.

She looks at her paper and she says “I need a new paper!”

My son doesn’t always know when to keep his mouth shut and this is why he took a dog bone to his head.

“You don’t need a new paper, just erase your answer!” He looks at his oldest sister as if to say ‘what a dummy’! Out of the corner of my eye I see my youngest daughter fling herself at him. She is all anger and no self-restraint and there are elbows and knees in every direction.

I start yelling. My oldest starts pulling bodies apart. I grab one, she grabs the other and finally we break it up.

I stand up and like a mother who was just trying to have a nice, relaxing game of Yahtzee to no avail I yell “I guess we can’t even friggin play a nice game like Yahtzee, because you fools turn it into Yangry!” I push the flying hair from my spittle at the corner of my lips and I say “Go to your rooms and read!”

“But I was winning!” My son states.

“YOU WERE CHEATING!” my youngest yells.

“TO YOUR ROOMS NOW!”  I demand.

You see, family game night is supposed to be fun. When you look at the box or at the commercial all of the people laughing and having a good time, you think good times are sold in this box! What they really need to show is the loser hurling herself at the winner. Or the oldest daughter stitching up the brother with steri-strips. That way you know what you’re getting yourself into. The slogan can be “Monopoly, the game where the winner can be the biggest slum lord with a nice black eye!” or “Trouble, expect stitches!” or “Clue, solve this murder and then witness your own crime in the privacy of your own home!”

My children are adults now and our favorite game is “Cards against humanity” It says right on the box “party game for horrible people”. That’s us. This is a game that makes us all laugh and have a good time. No one is getting taken out by sharp and throwable objects. My children are competitive and I will tell you that it will serve them well in their lives, but not so much with board games.

Moral of my story: Wear armor for family game night. Be careful of expectations, I was looking for a relaxing night, my kids were looking to win. I don’t really know, I never understood why they acted like this. The funny thing is that they all get together at my son’s apartment for sleep overs and play board games together. They enjoy WWF Candy Land I guess.

Until next time 🙂

Ps. Tell me how I’m doing! Also let me know about your own experiences with family game night. Unless your kids are wonderful and accept losing with grace, I don’t really need to know that!!!!!

I had a unique weekend in which I was binge watching “Big Little Lies” on HBO and also studying Anthropology about humans helping one another raise children. If you have not watched “Big Little Lies” on HBO, go watch it now…..We will wait!

If you still haven’t taken the time to watch it I will say it goes along with the name of my blog…. The Judgement of Smothers. Which got me thinking, where is the anthropology study on this…the tearing down of mothers in human society?

I understood the assignment from my anthropology class. It’s really fascinating because it starts with the fact that human females go into menopause around fifty and then continue to live up to another fifty years. The study suggests that females do this so that they can help raise their grandchildren due to the caloric burden raising children has on the mother. It’s very prehistoric ,of course, and about early man. We certainly don’t have any problem finding calories in today’s environment. Could you imagine eating only what you could hunt and gather? I would only eat candy. “I found snickers, milky way and a kitkat bar!” I totally would not eat meat at all if I had to hunt for it. I love that meat comes in packages now. I would have made a terrible neanderthal. I love learning about old us and thought how difficult it must have been to have family quarrels back then. “Fine, take care of your own baby Theresa and by the way you aren’t coming over to the barbecue and we have a rather LARGE wooly mammoth too! But you look like you’ve had enough mammoth!” (insert prehistoric shade here)

Then poor Theresa is in her cave with her crying child eating leaves and pissing and moaning about what a bitch Beverly is. “Fine, Beverly, I hope you choke on your fucking Wooly Mammoth! I hope you over-cook the dang thing and the entire tribe says you’re no longer allowed to throw a barbecue because you are a terrible cook! And lets not get started on that unibrow!”

It’s funny because I don’t think Homo Erectus was an actual bitch. So When did it start? When did  the society of women tearing each other down begin? Why did it begin? Why aren’t we helping each other out? You see the culture of “Big Little Lies” on HBO is familiar to me. In fact, I am sad to say, it’s more prevalent in today’s society then the past society of giving up your period to help another woman. I mean I would give up my period for just about anything. I would give up my period to stand in line all day at the DMV. However, evolution gave up our periods to help each other out…and we thank evolution by acting like ego-driven twats?

I have had many run ins with parents and you know what? They are vicious! Mothers are especially vicious. You see it all of the time, but why? Why would we develop such enormous egos that we can’t even accept the fact that our children, who are growing and learning, might make mistakes. Imagine being a child growing up in that environment, always afraid to make a mistake. Afraid to do something that will embarrass their mother! That has got to be hella hard!

So Today, I as a mother of three grown people, will admit to all of you, I was not perfect. I made mistakes! My children made mistakes! When my children made mistakes I didn’t pretend that it was anything other than learning and growing. I didn’t get a fucking manual with my children. I didn’t know the exact right thing to do. Whenever I was approached by a parent or adult about my child’s behavior I did my best to understand the situation. What I tried to not do is make it about me! Sometimes I would fail at not making it about me and I am most ashamed of that. I knew it was wrong and furthermore it always ended up hurting my kids. You see when the umbilical cord was severed I knew that this tiny little being was now partially on her/his own. They had the opportunity to learn the same way I did. Never did I do some jack ass move and think it was because I wasn’t parented properly. Hell the great thing about the seventies is no one was being parented properly….LOL! We are too involved in our kids’ lives and learning experiences. Our egos are too wrapped up in our childrens’ performance in life and elsewhere!

Your kid is going to be an asshole one day. Your kid is going to be on the other end of an asshole one day. Your kid is going to be considered popular OR not. Your kid is going to try and navigate the world as it is, with technology and bullying and the “everybody has to be perfect” environment. What your child needs is someone who understands that it is not easy. Not an egomaniac that is trying to put the world on their shoulders. Not those mothers that are trying to prove her worth with her perfect children. How horribly confusing that must be for children nowadays. Always trying to be the star of the show, the football team, the chorus lineup, the classroom and etc. Truth is the term average means that the majority of the people fit into that category.  WE FIT IN THE AVERAGE! Does that mean we should not encourage our kids? Totally not! What I am saying is give your kid the opportunity to fuck up.  Not huge fuck up….but little things. So they play the smallest part in the play. Who cares? That is still a part in the play and it is important. Have you ever seen a Broadway play? No? What are you waiting for….go see a broadway play we will wait. There really is no part that is unnecessary. They simply wouldn’t pay for a costume if the part wasn’t necessary. Their budget is not that big.

Another thing, when someone calls to tell you that your child has done something that you find a little out of character (or maybe in character but you’re embarrassed to admit it) try to find out why your child is doing this thing. Most people want to do the right thing. Most people want to fit in. I have had to ask my children “What’s going on with you?” and you know what? I really wanted to know. I really wanted to understand. I didn’t take it personally. If you aren’t trying to help your child navigate the complicated world. If you are trying to mold your neighbors and your kids’ class mates and society to  fit your child, You are working too hard at something that is beyond your control. Help your children to understand empathy, compassion and acceptance. Help them to strive for the stars and when they get the small part tell them that perhaps they are taking the stairs rather than the rocket ship. TEACH your kids. Learn with your kids. ACCEPT your kids as they are. And try to not put too much pressure on them.

I think my children are totally awesome people and I had the privilege to raise them. I got to watch them struggle and I got to watch them soar. I never thought I was better than anyone else and I think that was best. I knew that I was imperfect and I had long history of being imperfect. I knew that my kids would be human as well. Perfection is something that we hear about and it means something to us. But think back to our ancestors in the cave working really hard to raise children so that there would be a future for us. Do you think Theresa and Beverly Homo Erectus would be super pleased with how women tear each other down? These bad bitches had each other’s backs for good reason. If your neighbor had a sabertooth coming at her would you help? Even if she said that your child wasn’t perfect? I would hope so. Because like our ancestors evolving for us, maybe we can evolve for our future selves too. Maybe that is the point of why we had to tear each other down, to realize that it is not a good strategy.

Moral of my story: I think it is clear what my moral is. Woman need to have each other’s back and we have to have our children’s (all children’s) best interest at heart….We gave up our periods for it. To all mothers out there, I say this, you are doing a good job. Yes, you are bound to make mistakes and that is ok. I have your back. Now dry your eyes, apologize to Beverly and get yourself some wooly mammoth because leaves is not a great meal!