7 things to do on Halloween if you're apathetic

@abbienourmel


Halloween isn't for everyone.  Personally,  it's like my Christmas.  However, many people just don't feel the need to be festive - my husband included.  So, if you are among the few that are completely disinterested in this holiday, I have come up with some excellent tips on how to make it a lot more interesting for you.

(DISCLAIMER: Do not try this at home.  This reading material is for entertainment purposes only.  If you are under 18 you probably shouldn't be reading this.  If you do these things, you may actually be committed to an institution.  Just saying.  I mean, not really, but sort of.  So, I guess just make smart choices.  Maybe just turn on the Disney channel, put on a little rouge and some fangs for Christ sakes and call it an evening.) 


1. Run down the street in a diaper and cape screaming "IT'S CONTAMINATED WITH ENTEROVIRUS!" while you randomly throw your candy into the air, at old people, kids or at trees.

2.  Go back later and pick up all your candy, and hoard all the others too, since they're too afraid to eat yours and they probably tossed theirs in avoidance of an ER visit.  (SCORE!)

3.  Randomly answer the door while simultaneously blowing your nose and uncontrollably hacking into the dish.  Wipe your nose all along your sleeve for effect.  You'd be surprised how long your candy lasts and how many people politely run away from your stash. 

4.  Dress up as half Hannah Montana and half Miley Cyrus.  In one hand hold an over-sized Haribo bear whilst half your hair is twisted into a stunted unicorn horn, and in the other a Jem and the Holograms inspired outfit with a microphone laced with Disney images.  Say things like, "I'm being true to Miley," and, "Noh ah sayin'?" and, "Respect my journey."  (It is especially awkward if you say this while you repeatedly slap your inappropriate areas with a foam number one finger/hand.) 

5.  Skulk around your supermarket, especially around the candy sections, asking people if they want your signature.  Hiss at them while flicking a snake-like tongue when they say no.  Hand them your resume after.

6.  Wait for trick-or-treater's to approach your door while you hide in the bushes.  Then when they ring the doorbell, run out of those bushes dressed like a horse-headed-man.  Then take off your horse head, apologize, and explain to the kids that this is a direct result of you watching the Godfather at a very young age, and how they should be vigilant about TV ratings and viewing restrictions.  Also, they should avoid eating cannoli at any and all costs.

7.   Fill up "boo bags" with pennies, bobby pins, old keys, unused 3m strips, a few dryer sheets, odor eaters, and old pastel candies.  Ring and run neighbors houses - but then stand at the end of their driveway in clear eyesight.  Laugh maniacally when they look directly at you, strangely confused by your behavior, then wave and ask them if they are doing anything later. 


The hell that is stay-cation


Alright.  I'm just going to lay it all out there.  It is this stupid, asinine, DIY night light project I created that inspired me to write about the horrors of staying at home with my kids this April vacation.  Anyone who is a parent and reads this is just going to laugh, nod their head in painful acknowledgment, and empathize with what I am about to write.  Not because they are just a parent, but because if they have school aged kids like me, they also know what parental torture it is to have your kids out of school for an extended period of time without any scheduled activities.  There have been some comments to my parenting rants on my social media accounts from people without kids who clearly have no idea what parents mean when we say these four words: STAY-CATION WITH MY KIDS. 

So, what does a "stay-cation with kids" mean?  I'll break it down for you in very simple terms.  It means this:
EVERYDAY UNTIL SCHOOL RESUMES, ALL THE FUN THINGS ARE SUPPOSED TO SPONTANEOUSLY FLOW FROM YOU (NON-STOP) FOR 12 HOURS LIKE SOME FRIGGING ELF WITH MAGICAL FUN DIARRHEA. 

It starts the first day away from school.  The rapid fire questions on repeat (as if you never answered them at all). "Is it a school day today?!"  "Can we go to a fun place?!"  "What are we going to DO today?!"  "WHY AREN'T WE HAVING FUN YET??"  And then, before you can even open your mouth to groan a hoarse response, or push the button to your coffee maker for that oh so lovely rocket fuel you need to endure the next 11 hours, the arguing starts.  I still haven't cleared the sleep from my eyes, and I don't even think I got to pee yet...  They've been up for 5 minutes.  "I'm STARVING MOM!"  Then the arguments commence.  Non.  Stop.  Arguments.  ALL DAY.  One every 5 minutes.  You can't let it go, because if you don't intervene, it escalates quickly into eye clawing, head butting and biting.  (Yes, at 7:00 AM.)  So, you do what most parents think to do - get them outside, ASAP.  I scheduled play dates, took them to fun centers filled with bouncy things, and did basically anything to keep them occupied.  I have done this every day, for 5-6 hours each day, and adding ice cream trips on top of that, then fun art projects, with even more fun dinners and followed by fun shows/ movies to watch at the end of the day.  At the end of this 8 hour escapade there is little thanks (unless it's prompted), and all I have actually done is set the bar higher.  Just when I am thinking, "Phew!  Either I have contracted a scorching case of mono, or I'm just completely exhausted from my kids!!"  This insane boot camp schedule is TOTALLY going to make them go to bed early and sleep in a little.  I'm such a good parent."  NOPE.  Nice thinking though.  (How positive of you!)  Of course they wake up an hour earlier the next day - just for poops and giggles.  They are even more revved up for a new day of talking back, fighting, stealing from each other, whining, screaming, tantrumming, aggressiveness and overall nastiness.  And that's exactly how they acted during the arts and crafts project I did with them out of the kindness of my heart.

Oh, and while you are wondering what kind of lazy, no good, awful parent I am for writing this... Well I'm not an awful parent.  I'm a good parent, and in fact, I'd say I'm pretty darn good parent.  My kids have schedules.  They eat balanced meals that are organic.  I closely watch their sugar intake.  I help them with their homework.  They read and do arts and crafts more than watch TV, and they didn't even know about video games until 3 months ago.  I'm a hands on parent who seldom takes time for anything but taking care of my kids - I don't just throw Twinkies in their mouths across the room while letting them absorb into unsupervised TV land.  But this stay-cation crap is for insane people!  Just know that if a parent is posting some random thing about doing a DIY craft with their kids and happens to mention that they are screaming for a margarita, it is because anyone in their right mind would have run screaming down the street by 2PM after a day like theirs.  It's because, if Dante had ever revised his book to include an 8th circle of hell, it would be a stay-cation with your kids.  If enemy countries were seeking out new versions of torture, it could easily include a week with your children without school.  Do you feel like being a cheerleader of fun for 10 hours a day, every day, for 10 days or more, without compensation, with little to no sleep, and barely breaks for food, or breaks for peeing??  NEITHER DO PARENTS.  But we signed up for it, and do it gleefully in the presence of our children.  Why?  Because we love the little hormonal buggers.  With all our hearts and every morsel of our soul.  But, when and if we can steal 60 seconds to poop, we may occasionally "potty post" about how horrid the day has been and how we can't wait to have an alcoholic beverage later to soothe the massive stress that has accumulated throughout the day.  So sue us for not being Facebook happy and perfect, and for counting down the minutes until we get that glass of wine/ margarita, beer, or whatever. 

Cheers.