Halloween: The Parent's Version

I realize that I am days late in posting these pictures, but it has been a crazy busy week!

Here are Hubby and me in ALL of our Halloween glory. Can you guess what we are?














We're a delegation from the United Nations. Can't you tell?

When Did Halloween Become Stripperween?

Hubby and I are going to a Halloween party on Friday night and we're both really looking forward to it. For weeks now, we've been tossing around costume ideas but haven't been able to agree on anything.

Finally, more out of desperation and lack of time than anything else, we decided to drive over to the Halloween store with a pact that we weren't leaving until we both came out with a costume...ANY COSTUME...in hand. This was a scary proposition because when you wait until the last minute like we did, you're pretty much limited to what's left and what fits.

So we walk into the Halloween store...after church...and with our daughter in tow and start looking at the costume selection. And I was immediately struck by how nearly every single costume for women looked like it was intended to be worn by a stripper or a porn star.

I don't know about you, but I am not a size 4, Double D and the class on working a stripper pole was already full when I tried to register for it in college.

So I ask you, WHEN did Halloween become all about dressing as if you're expecting some skeez to shove $20 down your G-string? Are only the super-sexy people allowed to dress up for Halloween?

What about the rest of us? The suburban moms of the world with muffin tops and stretch marks? Shouldn't there be options for us? Shouldn't we be allowed to enjoy getting dressed up for Halloween without being referred to as "that skank" at the party?

So after about an hour of looking around, I FINALLY found a costume that I thought would be suitable. But, I'm not going to lie to you, people...there's not a whole lot of options in between "Nurse Nips" and the happy cow costume...but seriously don't most of us fall somewhere in between? I was also feeling the pressure of knowing that some of the people who will be at the party are clients and/or colleagues of Hubby so I needed to steer away from anything that would be considered politically incorrect or offensive in any way...so as you might imagine, that narrowed my options EVEN MORE!

So what did I finally decide on?

I guess you'll have to check back next week and see!! :o)

Monster Bash

Our country club is made up mostly of young families with kids so the new president decided we needed to have more family-friendly events and also throw fun, theme parties for the adults and do away with the "old school" dinner-dances. I agreed with this decision 110%. In fact, before the new regime took over, we hardly ever went to club events because they just didn't sound fun enough to spend the money on a babysitter.

This year alone, they've had an Easter egg hunt, a camp-out on the putting green, an outdoor movie and picnic, a 70s party, an 80s party, and for the first time (that we know of) a Halloween party for the kids.

So Hubby and I decided to take Miss Priss and as hoped for, she had a total blast! When we got in the car to go home, Miss Priss said, "That was a good Halloween party!" Like she's an expert on Halloween parties and knows how to spot a good one. LOL!

Anyway, here are some pictures....

Here's Miss Priss getting ready to leave. We ALWAYS hydrate before we party...teach 'em early, teach 'em right. That's our motto.

Havin' a little ice cream sundae before the festivities begin...



The princess and her minions...

Cuttin' the rug with Mommy...




Dancin' with Daddy...

The Gift That Keeps You Living

For my birthday this year, Hubby gave me a Snuggie. Are you familiar with these?

They are the blankets with sleeves built in that you wear backwards? They kind of look like the robes that monks wear? Anyway, I LOVE mine. It's super comfy and it's pink...and I have to say one of the best presents Hubby has ever bought me.

Now I know you're probably sitting there thinking, "Really? One of the BEST presents ever? That's pretty sad."

Yes. Yes it is.

Hubby is a lot of wonderful things in this world...he's honest and respectful, a good provider, a force to be reckoned with at Checkers and a fairly decent singer, but an excellent gift-buyer? He is not.

You're probably also thinking that I've been picking on Hubby a lot lately in my blog posts, but you know, after eleven years of marriage, stuff gets on your nerves. What can I say?

And for me? One of my biggest complaints about Hubby is his below-average gift giving skills.

At first, it was okay. I just chalked it up to the difficulty men suffer when buying gifts for girls they're dating. If I get her something too flashy, she'll think I'm desperate with a propensity for stalking. If I get her something too simple, she'll think I'm cheap. If I get her something funny, she'll be mad because it's not romatic enough. Seriously, guys...I feel your pain. It must be hell being you at the gift-giving holidays.

But after about ten years of receiving gifts along the lines of golf shoes (twice actually, and I don't even play golf), a book light (that I'm pretty sure was a free gift with purchase) and a lap desk with a pillow attached to it...I decided it was time to tell Hubby that he buys crappy gifts.

Unfortunately, my mom was present and she said I was a bit too harsh in my delivery, but seriously folks? That was in response to the lap desk!

A lap desk, people. COME ON!

So I said to Hubby, "Look, from now on when you are confronted with a gift-giving holiday and you haven't heard me tell you straight up that I want a specific thing, you can just get me a gift certificate to the day spa. That way, I'm happy and YOU get to keep on living. It's a win-win."

So for the past couple of years, things have been going swimmingly. Now I get to look forward to a massage or facial approximately four times a year. I LOVE IT!

And then my birthday came and Hubby said he'd gone off the grid and gotten me a present.

Oh no, I thought. I couldn't even begin to think what he'd gotten me. The last thing I need is another LED light keychain. So with a smile of mild trepidation, I opened the box and what I found inside filled me with delight! The SNUGGIE! IN PINK!

I frikkin' LOVE this thing...and have decided that EVERYONE I know is getting a Snuggie this year...including Hubby.

So I said to him last night, "Hubby, you HAVE to get yourself a Snuggie too. That way we can be Snuggie Sisters."

To which he responded with a look that said he'd rather run naked through K-mart on a Saturday than be my, quote, Snuggie Sister. So I pushed on...

"Here, try it on."

"No," he said, "I'd really rather not. I'm glad you like it, but I'm not really a Snuggie kind of a guy."

"How do you know until you try it?" I responded, as I forced one arm through the Snuggie and then the other and then tucked the blanket all along his legs and feet. "There," I said, "What do you think?"

And after a minute or two, his response was, "You know, it's not so bad. I actually kind of like having my arms free. It makes it easier to use the remote."

VICTORY!! And the moral of this story is?

I don't really know what the moral of this story is...I guess if you forced me to come up with one, it would be boys, get your girl a Snuggie and she JUST MIGHT let you live to give another day!

Way to Go Hubby! Sorta.

So since I've gone back to work Hubby has had to step up in a big way and help with the general day-to-day things that keep our house running in a smooth, efficient manner. You know, things like unloading the dishwasher, putting away laundry, taking Miss Priss to school, etc....and to his credit, I must say, he is doing a fabulous job!

Well, fabulous for him.

I would be lying if I didn't tell you that we've hit a few bumps in the road...

Like the other morning, for instance, I had an early breakfast meeting so Hubby said he would get Miss Priss up and off to school. This was a BIG step for Hubby because usually, I'm the one who wakes her up, fixes her breakfast and gets her dressed, and then Hubby does the school run.

So I said to Hubby, "I'll lay her school outfit on her bed so all you have to do is put it on her." And to his credit, Hubby actually seemed offended at my offer of help and said, "K-mom, I'm sure I can get her dressed for school. Don't worry about it. I've got it."

Now, I have to tell you, this filled me with lots of warm, fuzzy love for Hubby and I left the house strutting and smiling and thinking, "Hey, maybe me going back to work right now wasn't such a bad idea after all."

But then I picked Miss Priss up at school.

People, she looked like a sad, little homeless child in a mis-matched outfit and tights that were so big on her that the crotch was hanging down between her knees...and she'd been like that ALL DAY!

Was I embarrassed? Sure. Was I slightly annoyed? You betcha.

But I tried not to be discouraged. So Hubby was going to need a little help with the outfit selections from now on. That's okay. It only takes me a minute to do it, so I'll do it.

Which leads me to Tuesday...

I laid out Miss Priss's outfit onto her bed...a cute little cotton dress from Baby Gap that my mom sent her a few weeks ago. She looks adorable in it and not at all homeless. My only concern was the weather that day seemed iffy and I wasn't sure if she needed to wear tights or go bare-legged and just wear socks with her shoes. I decided to lay the tights and the socks out on the bed and let Hubby make the call. I also didn't bother with laying her underwear out on the bed because I figured underwear is always a given and Hubby knows that.

I was wrong, people. So wrong. So terribly wrong.

That night, I went to pick up Miss Priss from school and get her changed for her ballet class and I found that Hubby had taken her to school wearing not only the socks I'd laid on the bed, but the tights too, and NO underwear.

Really? In what alternate universe would someone think that socks and tights together are NOT overkill and underwear is a take 'em or leave 'em kind of a thing?

AND what in the world must her teacher think? Probably that Hubby and I are a pair of collective idiots who have no business raising this child.

HOWEVER, even with these (~deep breath for patience~) minor little setbacks, I remain, as always, the eternal optimist.

One day soon, my child will make it to school dressed in matching, weather-appropriate clothes and underwear... at least I hope she does before the teachers call CPS on us.

Scandalous!

One day, when I write my memoirs, I'm going to call it "K-Mom, My Life On the Sidelines of Scandal."

I was thinking about this last night and it occurred to me that, in my life, I have worked with or met more than my fair share of people who have gone on to become embroiled in a major scandal...and I mean MAJOR scandal...like the kind that lands you on Larry King or in the chair opposite Matt Lauer on the Today Show.

Don't believe me?

For one of my first jobs out of college, I took a job as a marketing associate for one of the "Big Six" accounting firms. My boss? Gene Frauenheim. You might know him as the guy who was responsible for sinking Arthur Andersen.

Later, I worked for a non-profit organization who had a strong partnership with the Enron folks. At a conference in Houston, I attended a lunch and workshop with Jeffrey Skilling. He's currently serving 24 years in prison for his role in the Enron scandal.

And once, when Hubby and I were living in South Carolina, we attended a fundraising dinner for then gubernatorial candidate, and now Governor, Mark Sanford. I'm sure you've heard of him. He's the guy who voted to impeach President Clinton because he said Clinton was morally incapable of leading the country after he cheated on his wife and lied about it, but himself refused to step down from the office of governor even though HE cheated on his wife and lied about it. Nice guy.

And most recently? Yesterday. For those of you who don't live in Birmingham, you might not know that our mayor is currently on trial for 60 counts of conspiracy, bribe, fraud and money laundering. One of the county commissioners who has been called to testify in the case gave a press conference yesterday and guess who walked up right behind her as the cameras were rolling?

Yep...it was me. Good thing I have mastered the side head tilt and slight frown of concern.

I kind of feel like Six Degrees of K-Mom: The Felon's Version.

Do you think it's merely a case of being in the right place at the wrong time or just the wrong place at the wrong time?

Either way, you can't deny that people I meet have a higher than normal likelihood of going on to serve major jail time.

Should I have a complex about this? Maybe Hubby should be worried.

The Night Stalker

That was Hubby's nickname in college. When he told me that, we were on like our second real date and I remember kind of scooting close to the car door and saying, "Ummm...people know where I am, you know. If they don't hear from me in two hours, they're going to get worried."

Turns out he was given the nickname by his frat brothers because he was the gallant one who always walked girls back to their dorm from the fraternity house so they wouldn't have to walk across campus alone at night.

At least that's what he said to keep me from opening the car door and leaping out of a moving car going 70MPH.

Well, it looks like Miss Priss has inherited her dad's night stalker tendencies. Last night, not once, but twice, Hubby and I woke up to find every.single.light in the house turned on and our daughter up, wondering the house. She wasn't sick, she wasn't hungry...she was just up.

This does not bode well, and I think the problem is this...we got too cocky. From about the time she was six weeks old, she went to bed with no problems whatsoever. All we had to do was put her in her crib, turn off the light, come back in fifteen minutes and she was asleep. This continued all the way until we moved her into her big-girl bed. We fully expected her to grasp her newfound freedom, climb out of bed and make bedtime a freakin' nightmare for Daddy and me...but she didn't. Even in her big-girl bed, bedtime was still bedtime. We started to take it for granted and now our kid has thrown us this lovely little 3:00 a.m. curve ball.

Instead of my sleeping angel, I now have Night Stalker, Jr.

So you can see where it's totally okay to place all the blame on Hubby for this one, right?

It's A Question of Standards, Man....

So good news, people...I've been invited to be a featured blogger for a website called Wellsphere.com. You can find me under the "Parenting" tab. It's a website devoted to healthy living and I, apparently, am a "Top Health Blogger."

I know, right? Is it just me, or is that kind of funny?

I mean, I TRY to live a healthy lifestyle and set a good example for my daughter. Every morning, I wake up with the best of intentions for doing that very thing, but before we go any further with this, I just want to go on record as saying, that I am not THE EXAMPLE of anything...not healthy living, not parenting, or anything else for that matter. If anything, I am the example of someone who is TRYING to get it right...some days I succeed and other days I crash and burn.

Whew! That feels better. At least now I don't have to worry that I'm some kind of hypocrite for preaching healthy living to you on Saturday and then feeding my daugther M&Ms for brunch on Sunday.

So....okay. I guess this means I need to get my act together and start blogging more than I have been lately and I guess I need to come up with some more topics that revolve around parenting.

Today's post? This is what I'm dealing with right at this moment.

I am D.E.S.P.E.R.A.T.E. to find a babysitter for Saturday night. Now, like most parents, I have two or three babysitters who I trust, that Miss Priss likes and are more or less available when I call...but this time? They are ALL busy. Every.single.one.

It's fall break or something...I don't know. When you tell me you can't babysit, I tune out the rest of everything else you say because I've already moved on to trying to figure out what my next move will be. So, I called my neighbor who was telling me a few weeks ago that she and her husband had found a new babysitter that they really liked...but when I called her to get the number yesterday, she said, "K-mom, I'm not sure I want to recommend her now. Since we last talked, I've heard some negative things about her from some of the other moms who have used her too."

Well, I don't know about you, but when I hear something like that, my mind immediately goes to the worst case scenario. I figured she probably invited her boyfriend over while she was babysitting and the two of them sat in the den and got high while the kids watched a DVD.

I asked my friend if it was something like that and she said (in between laughing fits), "No...it's nothing like that, but it's good to know where you set the bar." Apparently, she had babysit some older kids and they reported back to their parents that she'd yelled at them.

"That's it?" I asked, because frankly, that doesn't sound so bad and I mean, it's not like I can say I've never yelled at my kid before. I mean, I would rather NO ONE ELSE yell at her, but if she was doing something potentially dangerous to herself or another child? I say, if that's what it takes to get their attention? Yell away, my friend, yell away.

So I'm sitting at my desk, hoping that my last and final hope will call me back and say she can babysit, but I'm also asking myself, if Babysitter #1 doesn't come through, am I desperate enough to call the yeller?

I honestly don't know...

Witch or Sexy Kitten?

Have you seen the Sex In the City movie? There's a scene where Miranda and Carrie are shopping for Halloween costumes and Miranda is disgusted that the only two costume options for women in the store are witch or sexy kitten.

She's not that far off the mark.

Hubby and I are going to a masquarade ball for Halloween and what should be something fun and goofy to plan for has turned into a whole bunch of added stress that I don't need right now. So without further ado, let me just dive right in to Bitch #1.

Okay, when you get an invitation to a "Masquarade Ball", what is the first thing that comes to mind? I was thinking big fancy gowns and masks on sticks, something along the lines of The Scarlet Pimpernel.

Hubby said, "No. It's just a costume party and we can go as anything we want."

Probably. Because, seriously? Where are we all supposed to get our hands on big hoop gowns, knickers, waist coats and man-tights in Birmingham, Alabama? They shoot people for dressing like that in these parts.

But one of the first things I EVER learned about being married to Hubby is that when he makes an assumption about the dress code for a certain event, he is DEAD WRONG nine out of every 10 times. I have been over-dressed and under-dressed for more parties, bar-b-ques and pool parties over the years than I want to admit to. So, not trusting Hubby's assumption and looking forward to a nice, juicy "I told you so," I called and asked what specifically was meant by "Masquarade Ball", AND...

It's a regular costume party. Damn.

I really, really, really wanted that "I told you so." I'm due for one, you know.

So on to Bitch #2...Hubby and I are having a hard time deciding on a couple's costume.

I've tossed out a few of the old standards...Anthony and Cleopatra, John and Yoko, Fonzie and Pinkie. All of them met with a resounding thud of underwhelmed emotion from Hubby.

He wants to go as something clever and original, but it's REALLY, REALLY hard to come up with some kind of couple's costume that's (1) not rude, crude, lewd or socially unacceptable and (2) never been done before.

I figure that I'm giving Hubby until Saturday to come up with something better than any of my suggestions. If he doesn't, we're going as Bonnie and Clyde, because at least in a flapper dress, you don't have to wear the Spanx.

Conversations You Never Thought You'd Have

Back in the day, when Hubby and I were engaged and I was planning our wedding, I would fantasize about our romantic new life together.

Hubby and me having dinner together...by candlelight...every night.

Hubby and me sipping our coffee, reading the Sunday paper...me sitting on one end of the sofa and him on the other our toes intertwined together.

Hubby and me getting ready for bed...him in his pajama bottoms and no shirt and me in a sexy nightgown.

Yeah...the only time we ever dined by candlelight was when a big storm blew through town five years ago and knocked out the power for two weeks. And we don't get the Sunday paper anymore because there's no time to read it...so the intertwining toes thing? Nope.

And as for bedtime attire? Turns out sexy nightgowns are really not that comfortable and, if you think about it, risky when considering the possibility that if your house ever caught on fire in the middle of the night and you had to make a dash for it...well, you get the idea. We live in a really gossipy neighborhood.

So reality man, it's a bitch.

But even still, Hubby and I have always had a few hard and fast rules that we've always followed in an attempt to keep SOME mystery in the marriage. If one of us needs to go to the bathroom, we close the door. If one of us has...well, you know...methane? We still do our best to keep it quiet, and finally, we really try not to discuss BMs, diarrhea, or any other bodily discharge as a basic topic of conversation.

But tonight...after eleven years of marriage and a year of dating, the silence was broken when Hubby saw me walking through the kitchen, clutching my stomach and grimacing in pain.

Hubby: K-mom?! Are you okay?

Me: Yeah, I just have a stomach ache.

Hubby: Did you eat something bad for dinner?

Me: No. That's not my problem.

Hubby: What's the problem?

Me: My BM schedule is all messed up.

Hubby: Obviously surprised that I went THERE. Your what is what?

Me: I'm usually a very scheduled pooper...usually I go around 9:00 a.m. every morning, but since I've started working, my pooh schedule has gotten all messed up.

Hubby: Why?

Me: Because there are seven people in my office and we all share a bathroom. I can't relax enough at work to go and I don't want to be the one to pollute the bathroom.

Hubby: Why don't you go to the building across the street and use their bathroom?

Me: I don't think their security guard will let me.

Hubby: You should do like me. When I'm on the road and I have to go, I always find a hotel.

Me: A hotel?

Hubby: Yeah. They have the cleanest bathrooms. I just walk in like I belong there, grab a complimentary USA Today, do my business and then hit the road. It's a nice little transaction.

Me: Well, we don't have a hotel near our office.

Hubby: I guess you should probably buy some air freshener then.