Dear Trick or Treater

I have a confession to make. When shopping for Halloween candy to give out this year, I had you in mind. You wouldn’t receive the “bad” candy; tootsie rolls, pixie sticks, or smarties. That just wasn’t good enough. Not for you. Not for my trick or treater. Nope, for you, I would splurge on (gasp!) chocolate. Because? It’s Halloween. It’s a treat. You deserve it! You deserve it for all the times the wee will be scared out of you on this Hallowed frightfest night. And what could I get you that would be most deserving of your adorable costume? Your pumpkin bucket? Your painted green witch face? Your big smile and open mouth? A treat, I myself would love to receive. A treat that is chocolaty, and peanut buttery, so smooth in all it’s yummy goodness it should be renamed chocolate heaven.

Reese’s Peanut Butter cups

Scrumptious, most delicious treat of all Halloween time.

This is the good stuff.

This is what you deserve my little sweet faced friend. I bought bags with you in mind. With your well-being. With your coming home shrieking in pleasure, “Reese’s! Reese’s! I got a Reese’s from the house that gives out the good candy. Yeah!”

I felt like the Grinch who saved Halloween and grew a heart to stop handing out orange and black peanut butter chews for something with substance. Good candy. Chocolate candy. I am nothing but over generous.

Then, it happened.

I had one little bite. Just one Reese cup package. Just a little snack. Just a desert after dinner. It was my biggest mistake and a pitiful spiral of self-control defeat worthy of any horror flick.

One opened the sacred bag. One lead to another. I was taking “one” to eat after lunch, then “one” mid-breakfast, and then “one” as an after work snack; after stress treat, after dinner, before bed. And……and….and….and…..

I’m sorry.

I hang my head in shame. The Reese’s are gone. I am not allowed to buy anymore. There is no more “good” candy allowed in this house. Only the stuff I won’t touch. Maybe you should just skip our house?

I apologize dear trick or treater. It’s all my fault. Enjoy your dots….

…..again.

Next year. NEXT year, we will have the “good” stuff……..I (um) promise.

*images by Google

Confession Wednesday- Driving, dogs, and doo doo

Confession Wednesday Button

Thanks to Karen at A Peek at Karen’s World. I am taking part in this week’s confession Wednesday. Thanks Karen!


I must confess. I love my puppy Anna. She is sweet. She is snuggly. She is almost two years old now, and finally, FINALLY getting past ALL the puppy stages. She has been EXTREMELY difficult to train, to calm down, and to adapt to, since she is a Greyhound and not a Lab.

Don’t look at me like that Anna. You are a GREYHOUND, not a Lab. Raising your eyebrows at me won’t change that fact. Also, Salem is not your “real” mommy but she loves you like her own. She does. You are very lucky.

Anna this morning I was NOT happy with you. It was NOT okay.

Don’t look at me all shocked. What did you do Anna? It’s disturbing. Waking up at 6am, to the permeated stench of poo, which in my sleepy haze thought was just a horrible case of dog farts.

It wasn’t until 645am when the smell brought me straight outta bed. Stronger. OH MY LORD, what’s that SMELL?? Uuuuughh….then I realize…..someone had an accident. Since it wasn’t a human household member, it must be a pup. Sydney..shame on you for thinking it was ME when you went down the hall to the laundry room and past my shut door catching the scent. I NEVER thought it was YOU.

I was fearful to look into your crate, as I should have been, it was a mess. Oh P-yew! I let you out. Assessed the damage. Poor girl had covered up most of it with your only blankie. You were in the middle of the crate most of the night, sitting straight up, in the only clean spot. I let you out THREE times before bed, dangit!

It wasn’t hard to clean, but gross as heck. THANK YOU PETMATE for making an extremely durable home that was easy to clean. I totally became a fan on Facebook. A lot of bleach and a roll of paper towels with each smeared wad carefully placed, one by one, into a plastic grocery sack. Tied up tight and put in the trash in the garage. Blankie went into the wash, with bleach and hot water and lots, and lots of soap. I washed my hands a 100 times.

I hope you didn’t mind the babywipe bath. Best I could do, and you really did well not to get it all over you. Just one little spot. You smell really nice with the doggie perfume I had handy.

I confess, I was not happy with you Anna. But it was me that bought the meat filled treat bone night before last. Sorry it didn’t sit so well. My bad.

I must confess….I have the most beautiful daughter in the world (at least I think so). Just look at her. But sweetie? I still HATE driving with you. I don’t offer the wheel, like EVER, unless I feel extremely guilty for not helping you learn to drive.

I just get so stressed out, hitting the imaginary brake, and heaving myself against the side door when you back up punching the gas, not turning the wheel, shooting straight out of a parking space with CARS parked behind us. Ahhhhh!

Deep breaths. Listen, I know. I can relate. I am a terrible driver. Remember yesterday morning at school, I stopped on the crosswalk, without realizing it, blocking the handicap ramp. I watched in horror as the boy in the wheel chair rolled up and couldn’t get past me to go to school. To my extreme shame, I couldn’t MOVE. Cars in front, and cars in back. See, I really shouldn’t be your teacher.

I don’t know how parents survive this, but I am told we do. It would greatly help me if your dad were around. Please understand. I don’t hate you. I hate the system and the learning process. Plus you can’t help that you are blond, it’s genetics.

But I promise to do better. I swear. You will be a good driver (and me too). I will fulfill my parental duty. Love you mean it!

Confession Wednesday!

Okay, this comes from a fellow blogger KAREN . A featured SITS girl today.

Love the idea, so I am posting my confession, errr one of them anyway! Feel free to add to your blog and join us.

Confession Wednesday Button

The first thing that comes to mind as a confession is my daughter. My daughter can not ride a bike. I didn’t teach her. That’s on me, yes?  That’s what I thought.

Actually, she will tell you she KNOWS HOW to ride a bike. You know, the inner workings and concept of it, but she just CAN’T. Got all that? Here is how the conversation goes.

Sydney: I know HOW to ride a bike, I just can’t.

Me:(???????) No, sweetie if you CAN’T ride a bike, then you don’t know how.

Sydney: MOM! I know HOW to ride a bike. I know what to do. I just can’t.

Me:(????????????????????) Noooooooo, if you CAN’T, then you don’t know HOW. If you knew HOW, then you COULD. (Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!)

*This could go on for hours, you get the idea*

Yesterday, I took her to get her permit at the DMV. She has to pass an exam of driving questions, and she DID. She made an 84, she passed. Let’s not confuse my little text message to Jason. 84 she passed, which made him unsure of who passed and where the funeral was. Ahem. No, SHE passed, Sydney passed. She knows HOW to drive. DMV said so, they gave her a driving permit.

Mkay?

We leave the DMV and she is all smiles, how about letting me DRIVE YOU. Uhh, heck NO! But nice try. A small argument ensued.

Sydney: How am I supposed to learn how to drive if YOU won’t let me?

Me: That’s what the driver’s ed car is for!

Sydney: Mom! You are supposed to TEACH me, the parent, that’s what the drivers ed teacher said.

Me: (Whaaaaaaat??) Uhhh, NO that guy is crazy! Didn’t you say he only teaches to pay for his Harley. (OMG!)

(Sometime later) Sydney talks me into letting her drive my car around in a parking lot. Harmless right? It’s just a parking lot, no moving cars, the business was closed. Easy.

Let me just say, she knows HOW, but Lordy! She can’t. I have never been so scared in my life and we were in a completely EMPTY parking lot. An empty parking lot with a BIG light pole encased in a round concrete barrier, two small medians at each end, curbs outlining the lot, and let’s not forget the building home to this lot. (YIKES!)

Despite my desperate pleas of SLOWLY, SOFTLY, EASE IT! It was PUNCH, JAM, and BRAKE suddenly. Somehow the wheel wouldn’t turn. Uhhh, Actually you have to physically move the wheel, TURN IT! TURN IT! TURN IT! Use your muscle, because softly rotating it from side to side does NOT make the car turn, it will only drive you from a parking spot into the median it’s parked next to. (Ahhh!)

I’ll give her some credit. She did finally manage to make a turn around the median without hitting anything. ONCE. Just as I was starting to relax (she’s getting it), she drove straight into the curb (again!).

I have a confession, not only did I not teach my daughter HOW to ride a bike. I have a feeling I WON’T be teaching her HOW to drive a car. Not with my nerves intact, my sanity, and let’s not forget any bodily harm.