"What? It's time for trick-or-treating? Okay... sigh... yummy sleep... can't wake up... okay. You guys just go without me. Just go ahead. I'll be fine. This couch is so soft. It loves me. This couch loves me and my spit-up, too. It wants me to stay here and keep it cozy. You guys just go ahead, I'll be fine."
So... Halloween! The second greatest holiday in Holiday-dom. We love Halloween here. Like, for real. But darn that dastardly Halloween candy. I banish it forthwith.
Here's tootsie pops as Queen of the Universe:
Flying lady bug! Yes, this pic is sideways. Go ahead and tilt your head, it will be fun. Now, I know there are many ladybugs on Halloween, but few of them are as fat -- and therefore, as cute -- as my ladybug. She. Was. Delicious. Looking.
Here we are, everyone in the family that plays dress-up. I know you are all shocked that the Double B would rather plot his own demise then put on a costume. For real, sometimes I wonder how it is that opposites attract so darn much.
K.J. was a black ninja, as you can obviously tell. I was a witch, because that is what I am for the last four years running (my true colors only get to show through once a year. Plus, I love my orange hat. Plus, I love my orange striped tights.)
I would like to thank the good people at Costco for giving me great costume deals this year. Thank you, Costco. Now give me a million dollars for all this free advertising!
And here we have the trick-or-treater's. Trick or Treat!
So last night I was reading stories that the Double B's Grandma had written about her life and compiled in a book. That lady was so stinkin' funny. She told one story about living in their old farm house and a rat chewing on her hair -- horror of horrors! And it reminded me of my very own worst story ever:
We were staying at my beloved Granny-friend's house for the Ute Stampede. I was thirteen weeks pregnant with Olivia, and K.J. and I had ridden up with my parents, since my beloved couldn't come up until the next day. Now, you need to know that my Grandma was the cleanest lady ever. I would say... clean to the point of annoyance. So clean that you could happily eat your mashed potatoes off her floor. So clean that to this day I can not adequately clean my chairs -- I used up my chair-cleaning quota with a dust rag on hers. Cleanest lady ever.
Are we clear on that important fact?
That night we got home from the festivities and visiting and wonderful times and heading upstairs to stay in the bedroom with the two queen beds. My parents were sleeping in one, Kaje in a graco, and me in the other. I was exhausted! And after putting on my jammies, pulled down the covers and sat down with my hand by the pillow just before I laid down. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw something dark twitch by my hand. I looked down, and there -- not two centimeters away from my hand -- snuggled under the edge of the pillow -- was a MOUSE. A MOUSE. A MOUSE. A MOUSE. A MOUSE. Needless to say, I screeched my "I am deeply alarmed" squeal and went flying -- jumping like a pogo-stick -- out of the room, squealing and flapping my arms like a lunatic. My mom came running after to me to see what was wrong, I informed her while jumping, she informed my dad while jumping, and my Dad confirmed the awful truth. He was not jumping. But he should have been!
I literally jumped forever in the big tv room area. I just jumped, squealed, jumped, squealed. It was beyond my control, people.
My little brother Nick ran upstairs, thinking I was dying. My Aunt Pat ran out of her room, thinking I was dying. Meanwhile, I had left my defenseless child sleeping in the graco right next to the offending bed while my Dad hunted the mouse with a broom. Not proud of that fact. But Nick went to defend and assist. I was haunted, people. Haunted.
When the animal was disposed of, all us lady-folk crept back into the room while my Dad assessed the bed situation. We all stood in the doorway shuddering and giggling hysterically when my Grandma grabbed my Mom's arm to see what was happening. None of us had heard her coming up the stairs in our hysteria. Of course, my Mom screamed and jumped, causing my elderly Grandma to scream and fall back into the wall. I thought we'd killed her heart, for sure. She was not happy with us for scaring her so bad and then horrified that there was a mouse in her nice clean bed!
Those evil mice had somehow been in both beds, peeing and pooping at will. It's amazing I don't have the honta virus or something.
Needless to say, we did not sleep in that bedroom that night. The beds were dismantled and scrubbed clean. I shook for a good twenty-four hours straight.
And let me tell you, I felt that no one could understand my horror. Until my Grandma's big brother, Uncle Kay, told me he'd had a mouse in his bed in the army and he'd never gotten over how vile it was.
And then I felt marginally better.
Although I could never sleep restfully in that room again.