I suppose a fistful of candy machine jellybeans is as good as any other pre-trick or treating meal for a seven-year-old kid, amirite?
There actually isn’t a design on the back of the hoodie, there’s just a Creeper face on the front. It was really easy to make![[MORE]]
I got this green hoodie from H&M, which was on sale for 9 bucks (at least it was on sale here in the States).
Then I used this Creeper face as a pattern and cut out the shape on a piece of black felt, which cost 33 cents.
Then I cut the Creeper face in half, and hand-stitched it onto the front of the hoodie. Voilà! Easy-peasy. Also, way cheaper than the outrageously expensive official Creeper hoodie!
Here’s a confession: I absolutely cannot stand Halloween. In fact, each year I make a promise to myself that I would be somewhere far away, in a country or city where peeps don’t celebrate Halloween. As far as I’m concerned, we don’t need no stinkin’ holiday as an excuse to eat a shizzton of candy and get dressed up in costume. To me, that’s called Thursday or whatevs. Now, get off my lawn!!!
But here’s the thing: although I
hate strongly dislike everything about Halloween, lots of peeps who I know and love actually lurve Halloween, especially my son, and because I love the peeps who I love, I bite my tongue each year and “celebrate” Halloween despite my own hatred strong dislike for it.
The boy’s class had a Halloween party at school this afternoon, and even though I have a crazy-busy work schedule today, I rushed back from meetings in the city in order to attend the boy’s classroom Halloween party and subsequent costume parade. Busy daddy dropped his afternoon meetings to be there, too.
So even though I wasn’t in a Halloween-y mood and I kinda sorta wanted to barf hanging out with the Uppityville moms at the school shindig, the pure joy on my son’s face when he saw that busy daddy and I were there to support him was worth it.
Happy Halloween to my family and friends who celebrate that shizz! And to those of us who don’t, Happy Thursday!
Lately, the boy seems especially pre-occupied thinking about marriage and relationships. At dinner last night, while the boy was playing with his food, out of the blue he asked me, “Dad, when are you and daddy gonna get married?” And I said, I dunno, one day, I suppose. And the boy said, “But when???” And I said, Maybe after I lose 10 pounds, and I let my hurr did grow out a bit, and when marriage equality exists in every state, then I guess daddy and I will get married?
And the boy said, “I dunno what you just said, but when you and daddy get married, I don’t want to be the flower boy.” And I said, How come? And the boy said, “Because I’m shy and I don’t want people looking at me carrying a bunch of flowers.”
And I said, Well, you can be the ring-bearer instead, if you want. And the boy said, “What does a ring-bear do?” And I said, A ring-bearer carries the rings at the wedding and gives it to the people getting married. And the boy said, “Oh yeah, I want to do that!” And I said, Great, then it’s settled!
Happy … ah, forget it.
Who was the rocket surgeon who thought hand-quilting teeny-tiny felt squares to make a Creeper Minecraft costume would be an awesome idea?
Nah, I only fly for work every week or every other week, and I’m gone for three to four days at a stretch. I dunno, it doesn’t sound like that much when I write it out, but, gosh, it’s exhausting!
I realize that the life of a super-glamourous globetrotting busy business lady can seem like it’s all super-glamourous globetrotting fun and games, but if I’m being honest, it can actually be a bit of a drag sometimes.
Every workday feels like a sprint to get shizz done, and then after sprinting for an entire day at work in another country, I have to sprint to get on a plane, which is inevitably delayed or bumpy or just plain awful, then go through customs where the agents are invariably in a bad mood, which puts me in a bad mood, only to come home to work another few hours on work stuff, in addition to taking care of all of the regular household chores like laundry and dishes and organizing my kid’s school shizz and taking recycling items to the recycling bin in the basement because it’s apparently too difficult for anyone else to do this on a regular basis and finish up making the boy’s Halloween costume and signing up the boy for violin lessons in between more work and cleaning spots of dog pee from the kitchen floor because apparently spots of dog pee on the kitchen floor don’t seem to bother anyone else in the household and making sure that all of the bills get paid and having to pretend to be nice to neighbors and shizz.
Yeah, it’s like that. It’s all very super-glamourous.
Smell ya later, Toronto. Billy Bishop Airport (a.k.a., Porter) might have been voted the 10th best airport in the world with under 5 million passengers per year, but it’ll always be my No. 1 airport in Toronto, eh.