My Main Bitch.

"Mom. Something is wrong with Karma." Emma told me, as I sat down with my book and my cup of coffee last night.

"WHAT!?" I looked at Karma and then Emma "WHY?" .....I don't know if you can tell by my capitalization there that I was quite concerned.

"She...she wont leave me alone. Look at her."  Karma was laying on the fluffy footstool. Rather, she was laying on Emma's legs which were propped on the fluffy footstool.

"Maybe she wants your attention? Uh hello? "   But no. She was right. After observing for a minute, Karma was acting strangely.

"Did you ASK her?"

"ASK HER WHAT?"

"Um...HELLO! Karma is a genius!"   I put my cup of coffee down "Karma are you hungry?" I asked her. She turned her head at me and I squealed. (She is the cutest thing in the universe.)

But nope. She didn't run to her food bowl and sit down. Hmm.   

"Karma, do you want to snuggle?" She turned her head the other way, still sitting firmly on Emma's legs. Nope. She did not run over to me and plop on the couch.

"Karma, do you have to pee?" I asked. She jumped off of the couch and ran to the door, running in circles. SO excited that someone asked her if she had to pee.

"Really?" I questioned Emma as I let Karma out. "You didn't even ask her if she has to pee? She sat on your legs for attention for Jesus sake!"

"Unnhhhhhh Now I feel bad."   I left the door not quite shut so Karma could let herself back in when she was done, which she did.

"Lets go read." I told Karma and we wandered off to my room. Karma laid at the end, making herself a perfect prop up for my book.

30 minutes later, I wandered out into the living room, a frown placed firmly on my face. Emma looked up from her computer.

In my hands was the third installment of the vampire academy books. My shoulders were slumped, my soul....RIPPED out from my vagina...or... wherever souls reside.

"Ohhhhh MY!" Emma exclaimed when she saw my face. Her eyebrows practically touched with worry in the middle of her face.

"I HAAAAAAAATE IT!" I screamed and threw the book to the ground. I then stomped on it for good measure.

"Ohhhh. No..no don't do that." Emma calmly instructed me.

Shane whipped off his headphones and laughed out loud from the left "OHHHH MYYYYYY poor mama!"  I growled at him. Shane is always laughing at me.

Besides, I wasn't talking to my cuddly, funny, giant of a kid. I was talking (whining) to the one who shares my thirst of reading two novels in a working day.

"Emma!" I whined and stomped on the book once more (for good measure)

"What happened?" She knitted her eyebrows in worry and removed her own earphones in concern.

"I FORGOT that Dimitri turned Stragoi!"

"Oh. OHHHHHHH." And then she pouted with me for 15 seconds before calmly suggesting that I go into her room and pick up the next book before continuing my fit.

"Fine! but I HATE IT!" I screamed while leaving the living room.

"Okaaaay." Emma murmured and placed her earphones over her ears once more. Karma sat halfway down the hall. She hates it when I whine, and doesn't know if she should get excited or hide.

I looked at her. And she looked back, her head turned to the side like "Are you for real bitch?"
"Don't judge me!" I squealed at her and back in the living room, Emma laughed.

See. My kids are always laughing at me.

"Karma, it is time for babies to go NighNigh." I told her. She turned and ran into my room, jumped on my bed and put her head on my sleepy time Chewbacca, making him growl into the bed

"OhMYGOD you are so cuuuuuuuuuuuute! YOU are the cutest Puppy in the WORLD! Now..... move bitch, get out the way." She moved to the end of the bed and snuffed at me.

Karma is the only one who loves me.

Soon enough, I could feel myself falling asleep. "Karma." I called out.
Soon there was a snuff in my ear followed by some whiskers and warm breath.
"Turn off the light." I whispered and felt myself slip into sleep.

Soon enough a sound woke me.

I thought it might be a tweaker climbing through my window or a Zombie. They are both on the same level of danger for me.

I grabbed my murder weapon baseball bat, sat up and peered out of the window.
The rain was still falling, My berry bush was moving with the wind... tickling my windowsill. It was quite mesmerizing.

My hand released the bat at the same time the noise came again. It was from Karma. She was having a bad dream.

"Hey." I nudged her with my toe. She lifted her head and looked at me. "Don't dream about Zombies anymore. Dream of bunny rabbits and that rooster you murdered that one time."

She lay her head back down and stared at me with bloodshot eyes.

"Lets get a midnight snack." I suggested. She sat up and started walking down the hall.

Emma found me slicing cucumbers in the kitchen. "What are you doing?"

"Karma had a bad dream, so we are having a snack." I grumbled. Karma yawned.

"Salad?"

"Yes EM-MAAA Salad. Karma and I are making good choices for our midnight snack."

She smirked at me "It's 9:00"

"Huh?" I questioned. Dicing avocados into the mix. Karma licked her lips as I turned to face off with my daughter. I was in the middle of a sleep eat and didn't know what she was saying.

Emma shrugged "It is 9:00. Not midnight."

"That cant be. That would imply that Karma and I fell asleep BEFORE 9:00 which would mean that we are old."

She laughed and I looked at my phone. "ITS 9:00 you old bitch!" It practically screamed at me. AND I had a text. I replied and finished my salad making.
"WHATEVES!" I yelled as Karma and I walked down the hall with our snack.

Soon enough sleep weighted my eyelids and I turned off the light. Karma looked at me. "It's time for old bitches to go nighnigh."

She jumped on the bed and promptly fell asleep.

I lay in my crisp bed with the window open and my feet warmed by my heating blanket. Naturally I fell asleep. Lulled by cool wind, the smell of rain and a warm pit bull.

 

 Karma watching videos with me.

 

 Karma on a morning walk with me.

 

Karma joining in on Sunday morning snuggles.

 

Karma judging me.

 

Karma needing attention.

 

Karma reps BUHACH PRESCHOOL in the Atwater 4th of July Parade.

 

Karma as Tinkerbell

 

Karma trying not to beg.

 

Karma as the snowbeast from Starwars.

 

Karma as a Lion to my Lion Tamer.

A tragic thing happened on the way to 2015.

17 years ago....



"I don't want to look at your vagina." I stated, shaking my head and backing away.

"You HAVE to!" She whined at me, spreading her pink fluffy robe.

"Nope. I don't give into peer pressure. You know that about me." I crossed my arms.

"PLEEEEEASE!"

"Whining while sitting on the toilet is never attractive you know..."

"Neither is being a BAD best friend! LOOK AT MY VAGINA! I have to know if it is ruined."

"Fine, But I am not poking or prodding. I am not getting closer then 4 feet AND I will not lie to you if you have a blown out vagina."

"Deal!" she exclaimed

"I cant believe I am doing this." I said as I took a peek. "You know, normal people don't look at other women's vaginas after they give birth. It's not natural."

"Well????" she asked after I stood up.

"That was the grossest thing I have ever seen." 

"OHNO!" she moaned, throwing her head back like a warrior woman who's vagina was just slain.


"No, I mean, your vagina is fine. It looks like a normal vagina. I am quite impressed actually. But in reality.... vaginas are sorta gross."

"You would be a horrific lesbian." Melanie stated while she dressed.

"DUH!" I replied.

Samantha was named after Molly Ringwalds character in 16 candles, Samantha Baker.
Her mom, Melanie, would call her Sammy Baker Davis Jr. and Sam would laugh and laugh.

When Samantha was born, I stayed the night at the hospital as opposed to her father. I will never forget the nurses faces when she walked in and I was spooning Melanie. Both of us highly opposed to leaving Sam in the NICU without us.

"They said only two could stay. We are the two that matter." I told the nurse. She shook her head and walked out.

Melanie and I hurried down to the NICU and scrubbed up to our ears. Both with laughter in our hearts. BOTH of us so excited to hold the little girl that lay behind the thick glass walls.

When she was placed at her moms breast, I rubbed her cheek and Melanie Mumbled "Please tell me why MY daughter looks just fucking like YOU!"

"Because Jesus is smart." I replied and chortled when Melanie socked me.

She looked at me with tears in her eyes."She is my wish come true Laurie."

It made me cry, because I know that it was the truth. I looked away to stay my tears and that is when my eyes landed on her plastic crib with her name emblazened on the side. SAMANTHA LAUREEN

"You named her after me?" The tears flowed freely then.

"Of course I did. You are her aunty. I hope it will help her grow up to be like you."
It touched my heart in more ways then I can say, even now....especially now.



 1 year ago....


"Tell me what you want me to cook for you, when I break out of here Aunty."

I smiled at Samantha and shook my head. "Can you make your mommas mexican food?"

"Yes I can! .... Even better then her" She whispered out of the side of her mouth, like she thought her mom could hear her from whatever corner of the streets she was hiding out in.

"Then that will be amazing."

Sam nodded and smiled, then she sat back against her hospital bed.
15 minutes later Brandee and Emma excused themselves and I had to become the big bad wolf and make the little girl with cancer cry.

"I already know what you are going to say aunty." Samantha started.

My throat tightened, but I cleared it. "I don't think you do love."

Samantha sat back and tilted her face. Waiting to hear what I had to say.

"I am going to speak to you like the young woman that you are and I understand that the things that I have to say will not be easy for you to hear. But it is my job as your Aunt .....to say them."

"Okay Auntie."

"You are not being taken care of Sam. Your grandmother is doing everything in her power to keep Cameron in school and to take care of you and she loves it. YOU are a blessing to her."

Samantha smiled and nodded her head.

"Your mom should be here Sam."

"I know."

"She is too busy doing other things. And when I say other things I mean drugs. You know it and I know it."

"I know it aunty" she whispered....and then tears dripped down her face.... like a faucet had been turned on, and that faucet was led by her heart.

Samantha loved her mom SO MUCH.


Once upon a time, not so long ago, her mom would wake her up with homemade biscuits and gravy and the sound of music in the house.
Melanie was a wonderful mom.
She was into the church and she loved baking at Christmas time.

But that was before.


"Your grandmother is worried about your mom. Your mom is only worried about herself. SOMEONE has to worry about SAM. Someone has to take care of YOU.....Sometimes being a parent means being an asshole."

Samantha laughed through her tears.

"I am going to be an asshole Sam." and my tears joined her tears.

I hated doing this. I felt like I was grasping hope from her and stomping it into the ground. Hope was all she had.
Hope that her mom would walk through the door.
Hope that her brother would too.
Hope that things would calm down at home and her mom would become what she once was.

I was the harbinger of reality.
Hope killer.
There was no easy way to say it.

"I am taking you Samantha."

"What do you mean aunty?"

"When you leave here, you will come home with me and I am going to take care of you."

At first I saw relief etch her face....and inevitably.....worry. "But what about my mom?"

I wanted to sigh, but I held it in. "Your mom knows that the best place for you is with me....she has agreed to sign the papers love. I want to say I am sorry, But I try my very best not to lie."

The tears flowed freely then.

Big streams of tears, hitting her IV lines and my shoulder as I held her to me and prayed for the strength that it takes to be strong in the face of true desolation.

"This isn't forever sweetheart. This is only until you are strong enough." I whispered into her ear.

"Aunty, there is no place I would rather BE then with you. But what about Cameron? What about my mom? Who is going to take care of THEM?" she sobbed then. Into my shoulder and into my hair.

There it was. Her own fears displayed.
Not for herself.
But for them.

A few days later I was asked to step back, that her mom was ready to be there. I let Sam know that I was here and held HOPE that she would get the mom that she needed so very badly...I was happy (and worried) for Sam. Sam was hopeful (and worried) for her mom....



Samantha was 16 years old when she died.

I looked at her laying in that hospital bed, and all I could see was the little girl who used to wave her arms up at me "Auntie Low-lie, I hold you me!"
The way she jumbled the words made me laugh every single time, and inevitably  I would scoop her up and hold her close to my heart while whispering how naughty she was.

She was a perfect little girl who excelled in school and tore through novels with the same ferocity as I do. She found strength in the words of others.

I have been angry at her mom for over a year. She was my best friend for 17 years. She was once an AMAZING mom, and excellent wife but always and even then...a lost soul.

Now I pray for her. I pray that she finds peace....

I have found peace for stepping back, when I should have insisted on moving forward.

Peace, Not in Sam's passing, but instead in her life. Her short but bright life.

Samantha laughed loudly and loved deeply.
She formed beliefs and forged friendships.
She wanted to be a hippie living amongst the wild things and making her own clothing.

In someways the death of Samantha cemented my belief in God.
Of course he took her.
Of course he did.
How could he not ease her suffering and implant her in a world surrounded by golden towers and perfect angels. She is one of them herself.

Laugh loudly.

Judge softly.

Go for it.

Love.

Forgive.

Samantha still lives.
She resides in the hearts and the minds of those who were lucky enough to love her.

FUCK that Elf.

A year ago and few weeks into December, I was sitting across from my boss.

"I feel like you are Grinchy."

"Why?!" He grinched

"Because last year we did the elf on the shelf, and this year we haven't."

"Oh." He answered "It is in there.....someplace." He waved his hands towards "there" which everyone knows is the storage area of hell.

Neither one of us got up in a rush to go out in the shed and grab it. Wanna know why?

two years ago, we excitedly unwrapped the elf on the shelf and placed her lovingly on the....well...the shelf.

We took selfies with the Elf and we thought of hilarious ways in which we could express our creativeness AND imagination.

I read the story to my class, and each day I would excitedly think of new things for her to do.

We named her sparkle fart.

Fast forward a week, and I was asking the Boss to move her someplace because I, quite honestly, am too busy to move an elf. I have a Christmas Program to plan and winter testing to do.

Two days later I forgot completely...Then he forgot completely.

Once a child touched it, which made my ENTIRE class cry.

Then One day our Elf didn't get moved and all of the children fell into a state of shock and worry.

The elf is stupid. Okay? He is stupid and needless.

All month long I have been seeing everyone's elf's moved around strategically throughout their homes. Making flour elf angels and fishing for turds in the toilet.

It used to be enough for kids to know that Santa was watching.

Santa had moms back.

Is it any wonder that Kids don't listen as well? The big guy doesn't have your back anymore. Now there is just a punk elf.

Which Is quite like going from Jax Teller backing you up

:

 to a 'prospect' backing you up.

The world is overpopulated and Santa is too busy.

Now that elf has a reindeer and in 10 years that reindeer will have an assistant elf who starts visiting in October because the Nice list has its own waiting list.

I know people who plan this shit out and set alarms on their phones to wake them up at 3:00 am just to make sure that little stuffed fucker is moved.

My thought on this? No women has the excuse anymore that they are too tired for a 3 am BJ. If your ass can be woken up by an alarm for an elf, your ass better wake up and roll over for your mans midnight chub.

You are too tired? Naw man. Naw.

Last year I decided to call some friends who still had little kids and see where they stood on this whole douche elf idea.

While talking to MeL one night she told me that she did not have an Elf on the shelf, SHE had a monkey in the tree.

"Monkey?" I questioned and half laughed already.

"Yeah. Who the fuck can afford 25 bucks for a spying elf? So I got a 2.00 monkey and my kids think he works for santa too. But he just sits in the tree. He doesn't move around and do stupid shit."

#realtalk

"Beanie. I HATE that fuckin elf!" Dawn moaned to me.

"Why?"

"I cannot tell you how many times I have gone to sleep and woken up in a PANIC because I forgot the elf! Once I didn't wake up and I ran down stairs and chucked him across the room before Ariana could see."

I laughed because I could see that happening.

"It is not funny Beanie. I hate it! Once it got touched and we had to sprinkle cinnamon on her and she had to get 'sent' to the north pole."

My question for her, was honest and serious "Who the FUCK has time for that in their life?"

Wanna know my answer??

Listen.

I LOVE Christmas!

It is one of my most favoritest times of the year! I make reindeer food, and make sure to leave Santa a key to my front door.

I drink the luke warm milk and I bite the cookie. I "ooooooooh" and I "awwwwwwe" and I squeeeeeeel when I see Santa clause because he is my favorite person in the ENTIRE world.

Yesterday, a student in my class asked me where my Elf  who talks to Santa was (while looking on my shelf's suspiciously) so I rang the class bell.

"Gabriel just asked where our classroom elf is and I am going to answer. Santa has sent all of you elves at your homes right?"

They all nodded and yelled out their Elves names with happiness and abandon.

"That's good. And I love hearing about Charming and Sweetie and Fred each and every day. But here in class, we do not have an elf. Here in class we have...me. And you will behave simply because I told you to do so."

"YES MS.BEANIE!"They answered.

A parent told me last week "Beanie, you NEED an elf for your classroom! The kids behave with that elf!"

I just smiled.

My children do things because I ask them too, not because some creepy elf is staring at them from the heater vent and they are scared that he is going to snitch on them.

Snitches get stitches

(or bite their own tongues off like Otto.)

Instead I just smiled and nodded and in my mind all I could think was "Fuck that elf."

There are no ugly children.

This post is something that my sister wrote and it hit my heart incredibly hard.

My sister and I are opposites.
This is something that we have always known.
I always say that she sucked up all of the Portuguese and left the Irish for me.

As we grew up our lives took different paths and it finds us at either end of the spectrum.

We both have an incredible zealous passion for our careers. And we speak about them with conviction and intensity while we are together.

We joke that I Deal in creating human beings, while she Deals with putting them to rest.

She is a Mortician, and half of the time I cannot bear the stories that she has to tell.

"Stop. I cant handle this." I mutter at her

"Sorry sister." she replies, but she never has a choice in the matter. She doesn't get to choose which death she has to handle. There is no accepting of one in trade for another.

This morning her words appeared in my FEED. And I simply HAD to share them:

Cindy Tavares

November 16 at 11:29pm ·

 

 

THERE ARE NO UGLY CHILDREN

 

A few months ago, I found myself a bottle of Grey Goose down into a weekend bender. I don't really have a habit of drinking but there are some cases that I need "help" with when I am off call and I have time to think.

 I always need help with the kids.

This particular case was a 3 year old girl. She died in a rollover.

It was the heaviest 35 lbs I have ever felt in my life. A 400 lb case is a piece of cake compared to this one.

 I cried over her body. Her Mother was annihilated emotionally. Gone. Nothing left of this mothers soul at that moment. Void of everything but pain.

Why am I telling you this? 

Because I don't have the luxury of emotional ignorance. I wanted to write and tell you what I see. 

I see these posts OFTEN: "Click share if you have a beautiful daughter".  "Click share if you have a handsome son". 

I am positive that there are many that see these posts and spring in to tears, probably with the thought of "I used to". And they get to go through the grieving process all over again, resentful that someone is throwing it in their faces that their daughter or son met an untimely end.

Grief doesn't make sense. Grief is very personal.

Anything anyone says or does when someone is grieving, can be seen or taken as very personal.

There is no method to the madness.

The mother of the 3 year old little girl has a facebook. I am positive that those posts hurt her heart. I am positive that with the holidays right around the corner, she especially hates these posts. 

"It's Daughter week!" Great! Again. like it was 2 weeks ago (I'm fairly sure that some of these posters make that shit up whenever the mood of that week hits them)

"It's Son week!" Nice. Again. Like someone on facebook told me it was last week. 

Why is there even a son week or a daughter week? I don't get it.  I just imagine loving them every day is probably best. 

But I digress. 

Maybe I am so involved and immersed in my work that I relate more to the dead and the grieving than I do to the living. Maybe I am just more concerned with them and their grief and ultimately their healing, and that makes me appear to be an asshole to most everyone else. 

"Can you wipe my butt?" ....A Pre-K conversation

 



"Hey."

"Hey." I nod back

"Can you wipe my butt?"

"No. But you can."

"No. I definitely can't."

I am standing at the half door of my classroom bathroom.

"I cant either, there is a clause in my contract that strictly prohibits me from wiping the butts of little boys who can build bumble bee replicas out of Legos."

"Oh."

I wait a minute and let his mind work on that one.

"Well I don't want to." He piped up after a minute or so.

"I see. Well I don't want to either. So what should we do?"

His shoulders sank and he kicked his feet.

"Let me go check my contract" I disappeared for a moment.


In my classroom there is a mysterious contract that I bring up and use in some instances like:

"Ms.BEANIEEEEEEE She wont play with me, can you make her?"

"Nope. That is not in my contract, however you can ask Lunden nicely, she is all alone over there and I bet she would like to play with you."

or

"My mommy says you HAVE to do what I say."

"Sorry kid, doing what you say is most DEFENETLY not in my contract. Your mommy is out of luck."

See? It is quite helpful...but back to the kid on the pot...



"Okay, I checked my contract and we have two options."

"Okay." he says, quite seriously.

"You can NOT wipe your butt, but then you will smell like poop and a poop cloud will follow you around and people might actually CALL you poop cloud, which is not going to help with the ladies."

"That's not good."

"No. The second option is that YOU wipe your butt because, after all, it is yours. But that I should teach you because I am your teacher, and that's kinda what I do."

"Let's do that."

So we do.

5 minutes later he washes his hands with "Copious amounts of soap" and joins his friends at the Lego table.
"Hey guess what guys! I wiped my butt!"

"Cooooool" His friends say.

I guess when you are four, wiping your own butt is pretty awesome and it makes me wonder how long that lasts.

I will try and impress my own friends with my butt wiping skills promptly.

UGLY.

 

The other morning, while I was doing my makeup Emma walked in to the bathroom, took one look at what I was wearing and said one thing "NO."

I smiled at her through my mascara wand."What's wrong? You do not like my tube dress?"

She crossed her arms "It doesn't do anything for you."

I think she was referring to my dimpled ass and rolly rolls, so I turned to her and did a fat dance (just for her pleasure)

She sighed at me and started to brush her teeth. I think this was when she realized that I wouldn't dare go into work looking like an encased military green sausage roll. "Well...what else are you wearing with it?" she  asked.

I showed her and she begrudgingly nodded her approval. "Okay." she murmured through the white minty foam and I smiled. (after I stuck out my tongue)

I am known for wearing ugliness. Case in point...my ugly fur vest.

We had gone to the Thrift store to search out an Ugly Christmas Sweater and I found one right away.
"Emma, you go look at stuff. I am going to find TREASURES!"

"Oh my god" Emma muttered and gave me a half eye roll.

"TREASURES!" I screeched as I hurried down the isles, my eyes searching for something fabulous with which to plan amazing.

And I found it.

I gasped and grabbed a vest off of the rack. A woman next to me cringed when she saw it and walked the other way.

"Hello lovely!" I greeted my treasure.

I checked the size, the length and the cut. It was perfect! I hung it on my arm and went to find Emma.

On the way I skinnied my eyes at anyone who dared to look upon my amazing vest with envy. (Okay there wasn't anyone...) But just incase I held it close.

I found Emma "I FOUND A TREASUUUURE!" I screeched with glee.

She put her hands over her mouth when she saw it "OH.MY.GAWD that is horrid."

I looked at her face and back to my vest. "Horrid?"

"Yes."

"I love it."

"No!"

"Yes."

"NO."
"YES! I love it so much, if it had a penis I would make babies with it and there would be fur vest babies walking around!" I stomped my foot for emphasis.

She sighed at me and knew she had lost. I checked the price as we got up to the counter. "OHNO."

"What."

"I don't think I can get it. It is too much."

"Thank God......I mean...At a thrift store?"

"YES. FOR a thrift store, it is too much and I have to get these ugly Christmas sweaters. When we comeback with Brandee, if it is still here, we will see."

My shoulders sagged and my heart practically died. I handed it to Emma and told her to hide it.

"No. I am going to hang it out in the open and I guarantee in 3 hours it will STILL be there, that is how AWFUL it is."

3 hours later....

I rushed into the store with Emma, Brandee and Mandy. I showed Brandee to the Ugly Christmas Sweater Rack and then went in search of my vest.

"I will go get it." Emma rushed off and came back with it. My eyes lit up. "I told you. 3 hours and no one even touched it."

"Well, I cant help it if everyone except me has bad taste!"

"Lets see this vest." Mandy said from behind me.

I turned around and held the vest in front of me like a rare jewel that it was. I expected them to gasp in awe and wonder at its amazingness, but instead their heads jerked back and resembled...

 "Ohhhh MY." Mandy said

"Its awful" Emma muttered

"Ummm." Brandee hummed

Mandy kept looking from my beaming smile back to the vest. Like at any second the vest would turn into something else.

"Isn't it fantastic?!" I moaned

"NO." Emma stated

"Not really Beanie...but okaaaay!" Mandy said

Brandee petted it and replied "Ummm its really....soft." she nodded and smiled at me.

"I cant get it anyways because it is too much." I hung it up and stomped off, certain that My heart would be broken for AT LEAST 6 hours over this.

After leaving I was sad.

I walked with Emma and with each step, my shoulders started to sag.

I was sad.

I needed that vest.

I started to turn around.

"What are you doing?!" Emma hollered as I turned and started stomping back inside.

"I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed it!"

"No. Mom. Moooooooooooooooom."

"WHAT!"

"Look at Mandy"

Mandy had purchased my vest and held it over her back, like beanie bait.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" I screamed and rushed at her "YOU love me ONLY!" And I hugged her and squeezed her and snatched at my LOVELY vest.

"Yes I do." Mandy agreed

Hallowen HUSTLE.

"EMERGENCY FAMILY MEETING!" I yelled as I came home from yet another Halloween store.

Emma looked up from the laptop and then over at Shane. She tilted her head twords me and yelled at him "FAMILY MEETING!"

He lifted up his huge honken headphones and replied "Huh?"

"Family Meeting." Emma replied with a bossiness that is apparently inherited from me.

"Ah. 1 sec."

We all sat on the floor of the living room and Karma squirmed on the ground in the middle. (She is such an attention whore...also inherited from me)

"This is an emergency meeting, which means we dispense with the niceties."

"Okay." Both of my children agreed, eager to find out what the emergency was.

"We have an EMERGENCY! I cannot find a peter pan hat ANYWHERE."

Emma stared at me and Shane murmured "Oooookaaaaaaaay."

"Which means that Emma cannot be Peter Pan. Which means that we cannot do our family theme, which inevitably means that my life IS RUINED!"

"Oh my god." Emma stated quite dryly.

"OHHHHH Myyyyy." Shane replied

I lay down on the ground, moaned and Karma excitedly followed suit, Rubbing herself all over the carpet and grunting quite like a pig.

"I cannot find Genie Pants for Shane! And we cannot find a single set of popeye arms either! We need to think of something else!"

Emma leaned back on her hands with her arms outstretched. "I can always be Sherlock. All I need is a brown curly wig." My mind raced, but it was not excited...not in the least. "And what about everyone else?"

"Well....you can be John Watson."

"A FAT John? No thank you."

She laughed "You can be Moriarty"

"A FAT Moriarty? My life is practically over."

"Lets see...you could be a Queen."

"Yes. I am a Queen...I could be something fabulous, I could be a roman queen....I could be a some kind of queen....I could be a...."

"Drama Queen?" Emma laughed at herself and I gave her the death stare.

"I will find something for me, you worry about you and Karma." Shane stated, and I didn't doubt it. His room is a veritable costume closet. He has every hat you could want.

"We don't have to match Ma." Emma stated and ran into her room to try out her Sherlock costume.

She looked great and it was decided, after a quick Google search on homemade pet costumes, that I would be an Egyptian Queen (of course) and Karma would be my mummy. All wrapped in bandages and the like.

By Monday I was perturbed because Emma had really wanted to be Peter Pan.

By Tuesday, someone said "Can't you just MAKE the hat. It is simple."

I smiled with grit teeth and thought to myself ...."Why yes I can, while making 37 OTHER costumes and getting home at 7:00 each night and AFTER I make dinner for my children Yes, I am sure that I can."

Instead I just grimaced and walked away, because my stress meter was reaching capacity.I went around the corner, breathed like a whale and went in search of an elbow to pinch or a turtle necklace to rub. (MY stress relievers)

Tuesday night found me in line at Hobby Lobby with a bolt of green felt and gritty eyes.

Wednesday found me with tacky glue beneath my nails and Lego boxes stacked up around me, wondering how in the hell I was going to fucking find time to make a fucking hat.

On Thursday I ran into Walmart and even though I couldn't afford it, purchased brown boots that resembled peter pan.

And on Halloween  morning at 5:00 am, I was sitting on my living room floor trying to cut out a motherfucking hat.

Karma felt my pain. She huffed at me and half rolled her eyes.

By 5:50 pm I was frantically searching for a red feather in all of the classrooms. I ran into the main building and plunked my Peter Pan hat on Juan's head. "You have to help me! Does this look like Peter Pans hat?"  It swallowed his head and stuck out in a weird way.

"Why do I know what Peter Pans hat looks like?" he asked me, pulling up the brim of the hat.

"Because you go to Disneyland a lot! You have to help me!" I moaned "If I don't finish this I will be THE WORST MOTHER EVER!"

I stood back and looked. It looked more like a pirate hat then anything pan-ish. It was horrible!

I swallowed and pulled it off of his head and plopped it on Brandee's.

Juan looked at the hat and then looked at me. He didn't have to say a word."It doesn't look like Peter Pans Hat." I stated and pulled it off of her head.

I cut it down a bit and rolled it a bit and plunked in the 2 feathers that I stole from Jen.

"It does look like it. Emma will be Happy." Brandee stated but I knew right then That I sucked ass at making Peter Pans Hat.

Once we got home, I attached it to Emma's head and I hoped she didn't notice the wonky way that it tilted. I grimaced, patted her shoulder and She smiled at me in the mirror.

I had found Pirate gear for myself and had the wings and Tu-tu for our Tinkerbell Karma in the car.
At every house we went too, I sprinkled Fairy dust behind Karma, but pretty soon my fingers were too wet and I just left clumps of the stuff on the ground.

Unfortunately Peter Pan doesn't wear glasses, so Emma stumbled and squinted in the rain. Her brother guided her to each house and stood behind her at each door. TinkerKarma howled excitedly each and every time her girl came back to her and after an hour she started to shiver, her little green tu-tu wet and limp and her once glittery wings were sodden and tilted to one side.

Halfway through the hour walk, Emma lost both of the feathers, but received a ton of candy because she was one of the only trick or treaters who knocked on the doors.

When we returned back to Brandee's house. I put Karma into the car and said goodbye to my wolf and moo who had trudged the wet night along with us.

On the drive home,  I looked at Emma in the review mirror. She sat laughing at Karma and smiling. I knew that despite the rain and the soggy bra, despite the fucked up hat and the squinting eyes, that next year this will all be another wonderful memory. It will be drawn by Emma in excruciating detail, it will be chortled over by Shane and it will be remembered by us all.

I have decided to get a shadowbox and frame my fucktard of a hat. I will put it up on my weird wall and one day Emma can tell her own kids how their Grandmother created a hat that was so retarted that it was remembered near and far.

Perhaps she will one day create a monstrosity as well, and know that the uneven cut, the giant brim and the much too small feathers, were placed on her head with a mouth full of grimace and a heart full of love.