All Hallows Eve

Halloween is almost here,
the ghosts and goblins gather near.
Preparing for that special night
when all the children get a fright.

The pumpkins cast their eery glow
and flicker and fade as the wind softly blows.
The vampires in their coffins arise
as children scurry with piercing cries.

The zombies walk the streets alone,
the living, to the dead unknown;
they seek revenge in the evenings chill
every hallows eve from the graveyards hill.

The witches are heard from miles away
their cackles invite all to come out and play.
Riding high on their brooms to get the best view
of the lone lost child to add to their brew.

The spirits of the dead awake,
the dust of years they raise and shake;
their souls are free to roam unseen,
they wander quietly serene.

The werewolves at the moon will howl,
among the children the monsters prowl.
Mothers oblivious to the dangers that lurk
see only costumes from others hard work.

They marvel how real, they seem so tragic,
then shrug it off to makeup magic.
They share the night with the creatures of old
unaware of the dangers their forefathers told.

TV, movies, books and games
made all scary things seem rather tame;
noises, strange lights and things that go 'BOO'
are all man made, they're not really true.

So the zombies, monsters, werewolves and ghosts
return defeated to their devilish host.
All hallows eve just isn't the same
for the creatures of night it's become rather lame.

(happy ending)

But the children still love it, it's candy they seek
and if by chance they meet a real freak,
a genuine monster whose teeth drips with drool,
no scream they'll make, they think it's cool.
(scary ending)

But may I suggest you take my advice,
these goulish creatures are not very nice.
They didn't dress up like 'Thriller' to dance,
you won't get too far, you won't stand a chance.

The creatures of night of whom you detest
will soon be your guide, they'll have you possessed.
And to their world they'll drag you down
in the muck and the mire until you drown.

Six feet under will be your new home,
till next hallows eve' when you come out to roam.

Happy Blog Birthday!

It was exactly a year ago today that I entered into the self-absorbing world of blog. I never thought I would have anything to say, and every week I pretty much feel the same way. Still waiting for the big WOW that will make everyone on the planet want to tune in and read my every thought, hanging on every word, laughing at every line. But after reading some of those blogs in which the world does tune in every day, I'm grateful my life is pretty boring and that the world doesn't know who I am because:
A) I haven't had a near-death experience
B) I haven't murdered my family
C) I haven't been on Oprah

And I'm OK with that. I'm happy with my simple don't-give-me-more-than-I-can-handle-even-if-it-will-give-me-something-interesting-to-blog-about life. My challenge will be to come up with another year's worth of material that will give my loyal 10 readers something worth reading about. And it's already started, I'm stumped. I got nothing. You might have had your suspicions a few blogs ago. It takes a pretty desperate blogger to write about one's oven woes and throw-up, I mean how desperate is that? So, I've come to the conclusion, that if I can't find anything exciting in my life to blog about, I'm going to start blogging about your lives. You know, the ones where I laugh and say, "That's so funny! You should blog about that...oh yeah, wait. You don't have a blog!" Consider me your ghost-blogger. And just so you know, names will be changed to protect the innocent, or the foolish, or the really embarrassed.
I think I'll start out with a story about my sister, we'll call her Windy (remember, not her real name). Windy had a church meeting she needed to get ready for. Normally, she would have taken off her pants and slipped on her skirt, however, on this day she was wearing her long-john G's to keep her warm, so she stripped off her underwear along with her pants. She put on skirt appropriate underwear, finished getting ready, and went to her meeting like a good little church-meeting-going mom should do. When she got home from her meeting, she realized if she hurried she would be able to run to Sam's Club before they closed (no, she wasn't breaking a commandment, it was a week-night meeting). So she quickly threw off the skirt, jumped back into her pants, and ran out the door. The long walk from the parking lot to the front door caused her to reflect on some strange sensations she was having in one of her pant legs. For some reason it felt a little thicker than the other, a little tighter perhaps. She did not have a toddler tugging at her leg, so that wasn't the cause. But she didn't have too much time to dwell on it before she was greeted at the door by a good-looking young man standing as sentinal and gaurd. After she smiled and flashed him (her card), she grabbed her cart and went on her way. A few steps later, she noticed the strange sensation in her pant leg was gone. Something else was missing too, she just couldn't quite place it, and in trying to understand what had just happened, and why she now felt a draft going up her leg, she turned her head back, looking for some tangible proof that she wasn't losing her mind. Well, she did find something. There, at the door, next to the good-looking door greeter, she noticed something white. Upon closer inspection, she realized the white blob on the floor that she, and everyone else now walking in saw, was her long underwear! She snatched them up and shoved them in her purse so quickly, that even the best shop-lifter would have been impressed. This time she didn't smile at the chuckling good-looking door greeter as she grabbed hold of her cart and made a bee-line for the freezer section, where she could stick her hot-flushed face in the cooler and melt the ice-cream with a single touch to her cheek. Of course it took awhile after the initial shock of "What? How did that get there?" to realize that when she took off her pants and underwear the first time, they must have stayed intact. When she put them on later that night, they must have shifted into one leg, and worked their way down the leg of her pant, until just the right moment. Not in the privacy of her garage, or in her car, or even in the parking lot...Oh no! It wasn't until she had an audience that her underwear made it's debut. She was just grateful the good-looking door greeter didn't try to get her for shoplifting, now that would have been embarrassing to explain!

And just in case your wondering if this story is true...it is. All except the part about the ' Young Good Looking Door Greeter'. I knew you wouldn't fall for that one. (This is Sam's Club we're talking about) He was old and probably half blind, therefore he didn't even see what landed in front of his feet. (at least that's what we tell Windy, anything to make her feel better)

Thanks for all my readers out there! By the way, anyone can leave a comment...anyone out there...anyone at all....hello?

Oiy joy...of motherhood.

It's 4 AM, my light goes on.
My son creeps in, I know somethings wrong.
He says those words all mothers dread,
"I just threw up all over my bed".

"Are you OK" I think to ask,
while deep inside I'm dreading the task.
He's better now, the pain is gone.
It's times like this I hate being Mom.

I plug my nose, try to hold it in,
pull off the sheets and force a grin.
At least he kept his barf confined
or I would have lost more than my mind.

It's wandering off to my happy place,
trying not to think of the task I face.
I tell myself I'm the cleaning crew
at a 5-star hotel, in the Carribbean too.

The slime I try to rinse down the sink
is a pina-colada from someones spilt drink.
I think I'll go snorkling at the end of my shift,
Oh who am I kidding, this sheet smells like...
well, you get the drift.

The sheets are washing, a clean set put on,
I tell Trey good-night as I let out a yawn.
My head hits the pillow, I try to sleep
but I'm now wide awake, counting sheep.

I'm just dozing off at 6 AM
when I hear running feet and then a 'BHAM'
He's at it again, my poor little guy,
I'm hoping he made it, I'd sure hate to cry.

I find him leaning over the john,
the contents of his stomach gone.
I'm afraid to ask, but need to know,
"did you make it on time, or did you blow?"

"I tried to keep my mouth shut tight,
the hallway was dark and I didn't get the light.
I ran head-first into the wall
which made me spwew some down the hall."

Again I'm scrubbing, this time the floor.
It's not too bad, I've done this before.
Then back to bed I try once more
while my husband, oblivious, softly snores.

You might be wondering why he sleeps
while I do all the work without a peep,
let's say I learned from my mother dear,
who learned long ago, about 40 years.

My sister was sick, you know what I mean,
so my Mom asked my Dad to help her clean.
He tried, bless his heart, to help with the mess,
but the smell, the chunks, he just couldn't suppress.

Next thing Mom knew she had double the work,
and cleaning up man puke is not a nice perk.
Never again did she ask for his aid,
so now you know why I'm a little afraid.

Let them smash the big spiders and open tight jars,
change the light bulbs and keep up the cars.
When your child turns green and their cookies display,
remember one thing,'KEEP YOUR MAN FAR AWAY'

Sisters.

I've struggled all week in writing this blog. I don't want to brag, and I certainly don't want to make those of you who don't have what I have feel jealous, left out, or cheated out of one of lifes greatest blessings. It's not that I had anything to do with it anyway, my mom and dad can take all the credit. I'm just a receiver of the gift that keeps on giving. I'm talking about the gift of sisters. I have 4 of them, so I feel especially blessed.Recently we all gathered together for our semi-annual "Sister Day". A day where we let the kids run free in Grandma's yard while we sisters forget our daily cares, reminese, remineace, ugh, remember the good old days, while making a craft for the upcoming holidays.

Growing up I didn't appreciate the fact that I always had to share a room, or that I was usually watching the younger kids while mom was sewing (clothes for me) or that my little sisters would sneak into my makeup when I wasn't home. Of course now, with years of wisdom behind me, I can look back and appreciate those experiences.

A couple of years ago, Kayla came to me with a homework assignment. She had to convince someone to see her point of view and needed that person to write a paragraph or two of why they agreed or disagreed with her. Her platform:
"Why I need a lock on my bedroom door"
Her argument was quite convincing and I found myself agreeing with everything she said. I knew how frustrated she would be when her sister would make herself at home in her room, borrow her clothes without asking. Helping herself to everything in her room, her flat iron, her mirror and makeup because she didn't want to go downstairs and get ready in her own room, leaving a trail of mess behind. I know when things went missing she could always blame her sister, she only has one so it wasn't too hard to guess who the culprit was.
Well, I jumped right in and agreed that having an older sister who felt entitled to anything she saw must be somewhat irritating, and that a lock might discourage any clepto tendancies, but as I started writing, I found myself reflecting back to my childhood experiences and the fond memories I have with my own sisters. I would make up dances with my sisters and perform them to my mom's old records of My Fair Lady and Singing in the Rain. I recalled the tea parties we would have, staying up late into the night playing slap-jack and laughing with my older sister until my parents would shout down the heat vent to go to sleep. Making spook alleys in the cold, dark food storage room, and staying up way too late with them on Christmas eve cuz we were all too excited to sleep.
Suddenly I was feeling sorry for my daughter, not because she had a sister who liked to hang out in her room, but because she only had one sister to hang out with in her room. My tune changed from "lock the door" to "unlock your heart". I found myself expressing to her how lucky she was that she had a sister who not only loved her, but one who loved to hang out with her. I tried to convince her that friends come and go, but your sister will always be there, and since she only has one, she'd better make the best of it. I reassured her that her sister will be the shoulder you cry on when some guy breaks your heart, and she'll be the first one you call when you meet Mr. Right. She'll be the one with the biggest smile in your wedding photos, and she'll be your childs favorite aunt. She'll be the one you run to when you've had your first fight with your husband, and she'll be the one to convince you that no, it wasn't a mistake, guys are just jerks sometimes. She'll be the one beside you while you push your little ones on the swing at the park, and on Halloween she'll be pushing her stroller along side yours up and down the neighborhood. She'll be the one you call when your husband takes the kids off your hands for a couple of hours so you can have some 'alone time', and she'll be the one you call crying to when your little one has gone off to college. She'll be your sounding board, your cheerleader, your therapist, your sanity. But most of all, she'll be your best friend.

I should know...I have four of them.

Oh, and by the way, the teacher gave me an 'A' on my essay.
(ok, now I'm bragging)