...Holy Halloween

Halloween is approaching and it may very well be what I need to get me out of this damn funk. Confession: I love it and I am not sure why.  The middle Diva asked if we were celebrating the birth of Satan and I just looked at her. What in the hell happened to the fucking fun in Halloween? Why must the devil be involved? Halloween is about candy and scaring the shit out of little kids. Sadly though, I wish I could say we had some rock out Halloween "adult party" to go to and have found the best costumes. One year, when there was just one Diva, the SBF and I attended the local bar in our college town and I was like a kid in a candy store. There was a guy walking around like Tom Cruise in a pink button up and tighty whities, a guy walking around with a shower curtain built around his body and the skanks....oh the skanks where magnificent. It was a freak show and I loved it.

I hinted to SBF that I may dress up like a Xanax pill this year and happily go door to door with my children. He has encouraged me not to. "What would people think?" he says. Maybe they will think that I am fucking happy and they should get some too. So instead, I will probably show up in my normal Halloween costume: The tired, angry mother of three walking down numerous sidewalks in the dark cursing under my breath and pissed that I forgot my flask of Bailey's for my coffee. I will see the local bars in a distance and spit at the college kids enjoying their life and shit. The Divas will be dressed as Cleopatra, a mummy, and a pink ass Bratz tiger. Guess who is the tiger....yep, Miss B. The costume is not one of my favorites and I find myself calling her "Richard Parker" from Life of Pi. Picking out costumes for the three Divas caused me to question the costume industry and if I had passed down some "slut genes" to these three girls. It took hours to convince them that the Bride zombie looked like a Meth Head, the Pop Star Diva looked like a stripper, and the Southern Belle looked like she was the "Head Madame" at a Brothel. What the hell is going on? I swear there was a picture of a five year old girl posing seductively as a cop with handcuffs in her hands. I know my past. I know my genes. I know there is a pretty good chance that I could end up with a tramp as a daughter. I am not putting that idea in the universe as a for sure, but I know there is a possibility. I will do my best to fight it and love the tramp unconditionally. 

The girls love to ask me what I dressed up as for Halloween when I was a child. In the fifth grade, I swear I went as a hooker. I wish my mother was alive to confirm this, but I promise I was a hooker with a mole drawn on my face. Giggle. She was a young, wonderful, free spirited mother...don't judge her and I turned out fine.
 

My love for Halloween has caused me to fall off the wagon. I am in deep. Let the crafting madness and Halloween parties begin. Right now my kitchen table is a mass of newspapers and orange paint. Pinterest is my poison and I may OD this week. Miss B has a party this morning and once again I was up past midnight cutting ribbon and painting bags. I looked at the beautiful pile of shit everywhere and I was at peace. The SBF came through and stated that it must bring some peace to me because there is no way in hell he would do that shit. He seemed to have forgotten he had just finished spending over an hour cutting out jack-o-lantern faces for me. 

In my defense, I have not gone fully ape shit crazy into the Pinterest dark hole. At 12:30 am, I said the hell with trying to tie cute bows through the holes of tags that I created for goodie bags. I grabbed a stapler and stapled tag, ribbon, and the whole damn bag. Ha!!