Revenge Of The Halloweenier

Posted on October 30th, 2009 by Your Aunt Becky

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So, before I get into this NOT AT ALL serious post, let me start by thanking you for helping Mimi by voting for my blog. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching (GAK) and have come to the conclusion that really, I need to Use My Power For Good, and use my experience not only with Amelia, but with my daughter-in-law Madeline Spohr, to help bring awareness to The March Of Dimes.

I’ll be organizing a walk in the spring and anyone who is local (or not) and wants to walk with Team Sausage (???)(we need a name)(you need to help) would be more than welcome. I mean that. Email me, DM me, whatever, you don’t have to be my BFF to go with me.

A button will go on my sidebar, too, for anyone who WANTS to sponsor me, but trust me, I won’t be soliciting donations from anyone. I know times are hard, and I have hard enough time asking for money that people owe me, so the last thing I am going to do is be all OH HAI, INTERNETZ, GIVE ME MONEY.

But a vote, I can ask that of you. And I’ll keep asking you to ask around, because that’s what I do. I have a lead right now, but we all know how quickly that can be surpassed, so please, WON’T SOMEONE THINK OF THE TINY BABIES?

November is Prematurity Awareness Month, and I know a lot of you will want to participate in this: The Bloggers Unite Fight For Preemies on November 17. You want to, go sign up. I did.

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Ben was a bumble bee for his first Halloween. Although, he was so pissed off by the costume, that he spent every second in it screaming and crying (which, coincidentally, is how he spent his first year of life) that we called him the Grumble Bee.

Maybe at 2 months old he realized how stupid he looked.

Because honestly, he did. The costume was some ridiculous polyester material and couldn’t have been comfortable, and, well, he had ANTENNAE. It was pretty funny. I have approximately 5,493 pictures that show JUST how funny he thought it was. (read: NOT FUNNY)

The next year, he was a lion, and again, it was all tears and tantrums all the time, although the costume was of a higher quality and even the promise of candy, CANDY! didn’t stop the flow.

And his third year, he was the Cat in the Hat. The tears flowed like taps and that was my Christmas card that year*, because really, the kid cried a lot whenever I tried to dress him up. It was like he was staging a mini-revolt because he knew how dumb he looked.

The years between four and five marked when The Daver chose his Halloween costume, a sensible replica of the NASA space suits which Ben wore with pride, the pint-sized astronomer distant, but happy, as is so often the case with our first son.

I was sort of sad that I no longer had full control over what our son was able to be for Halloween, but given my previous choices and his reactions, it was probably for the best. Ben hadn’t really shown an interest in being anything at all, so we just sort of chose FOR him, hoping that he’d like it.

Now that he was making the transition from ickle boy to bigger boy, I thought it wise that I had no real part in this process anyway. Because while *I* happen to think that a bejeweled Hello Kitty iPhone cover is full of The Awesome, I fully recognize that there comes a point in every third grader’s life where it’s kind of important that they fit in and NOT stand out from the pack.

Originality is important, yes. LATER ON.

This is why I cannot be responsible for my children past a certain age.

So when I was tasked with finding Ben a ninja costume–his choice, TRUST ME, I would have chosen death metal rocker (or Land Shark!!)– initially I thought, spank me silly, Seymour, I can fucking DO this, until I realized there’s about 10 zillion ninja costumes out there.

Did YOU know that?

I think ninja, I think guy in tight fitting black wrapped outfit, maybe a couple of swords or those star things (ANOTHER SIGN OF MY OBVIOUS INFERIORITY IS MY INABILITY TO NAME THE STAR THINGIES), but I am wrong. There are thirty ninja costumes, none of which look like that.

THIS IS WHY I WAS TERRIFIED TO LEARN THAT MY FIRST CHILD WAS A BOY.

Eventually I dragged The Daver away from work (o! the humanity!) to help me on my mission to find the perfect costume (what would have been easier, I’m guessing, is to bring Ben himself, but then I would have ended up with every single accessory they make, another costume for Alex and costumes for the dogs).

Ben will make a mighty fine ninja this year and Alex, well, Alex will make a pretty fucking awesome….chicken.

Pretty sure and that therapy can never undo the damage I’m causing him. He’s been a hot dog, a hedgehog and now a chicken.**

Payback’s a bitch, Alex. Should have slept through the night, HUH, KIDDO. Because THEN you might have been VLAD THE MOTHER FUCKING IMPALER rather than a CHICKEN.

Minor victories, man. Minor victories.

*In my defense, it was better than the pictures of the inside of my colon that I’d wanted to use that SOMEONE (*ahem THE DAVER *ahem*) seemed to think people wouldn’t find funny.

**I’ll put up pictures, don’t worry. I just haven’t TAKEN any yet because, well, I’m not sure I’ll coax Alex into the chicken costume, because, obviously, would you? So he may go as….Alex.

And I haven’t forgotten the picture I owe you of my best Halloween costume EVER. Because I will totally get it for you.

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