The Teal Pumpkin Incident (Or, how I got thrown out of my mommy's group)

The Teal Pumpkin Incident

(Or, how I got thrown out of the “Mommy's Group” that I founded)

Ahhhh, Mommy's Groups. They're in no shortage on Facebook & MeetUp and I think they're a hugely successful resource for bringing and kids together for all kinds of entertaining activities and social interaction, if only it weren't for the moms. Ohhh, the moms.

When I started the group, I had some lofty intentions – all kinds of playing with a purpose, a welcoming group for moms and children of all ages, messy crafts, play ground play dates, summer swimming... it was going to be so much fun! And it was!!

A group that wasn't based on any specific religion or strict parenting style, a group where all things fun could be celebrated, moms could be supported, kids could have fun... but all good things must come to an end and after almost 2 years, my life was busy and I could no longer organize the group, so I passed the torch, so to speak.

The new organizer struggled against the peanut nazi assistant organizer, cliques formed, it was so awesome – just like high school all over again. It was a sad state and I wasn't as interested as I had been previously... but I chugged along, toting my 3 year old daughter to occasional play dates, just to stay in touch.

Until the Teal Pumpkin Incident.

This is how I got unceremoniously thrown out of the mommy group that I'd originally founded and built, deemed “dangerous”, and had moms running scared, in fear for their children who would surely be “unsafe” in my presence.

A girl I knew posted on Facebook about this wonderful Teal Pumpkin Project idea, it was such a wonderful way to make kids everywhere be able to enjoy the sacred and solemn night of Halloween – and all you had to do to show your participation was to paint your pumpkin teal and show it off at your door – all of the children in your town would be welcome to a wholesome, allergy free, diabetic friendly, non-food, piece of shit garbage treat like a cheap sticker or pencil or some god awful trinket bought in bulk from Oriental Trading – you know, the crap you immediately throw away at home because you don't want it littering your house and because even your kid thinks it sucks.

I couldn't hold my tongue... and remarked that I didn't think anything was wrong with candy. I was the bitch who suggested parents might want to manage what their kid's Halloween loot contained and remove the items that they either did not want their child to have or that their child couldn't have.

“But think of how terribly SAD it is for the kids who can't have ANY fun on Halloween because they can't have what all the other kids have!!”

“Think of all the kids who suffer emotionally because the treats everyone else gets will be denied to them, by no fault of their own!”

“Childhood obesity is out of control – we need to help the masses!”

Now – let me say this one thing: If you have a child who truly can not have not One. Single. Thing. That is traditionally dropped into their plastic pumpkin on Halloween Night – and yet you choose to take them door to door, knowing that at the end of the night you're going to dump the entire contents into the trash because they can't have it – you might actually be a douchebag parent.

And of course – I said as much. That's when all hell broke loose – I said “douchebag”. (I'd say it again, actually, I do all the time.) I called a parent a potential douchebag and I made no apology.

And here's why:

If your child is diabetic and can't be handed an entire bucket of sugary candy – you will need to do your job as a parent and dispense the safe amount for your child to them.

If your child has a specific allergy and can't be handed an entire bucket of sugary candy – you will need to do your job as a parent and help sort out what they can and can't have. (That might be something they ought get familiar with anyway, I'd guess.)

If your child is at risk for childhood obesity and can't be handed an entire bucket of sugary candy – you will need to do your job as a parent and manage the amount your child is allowed to have each day.

If your child is none of the above, they probably shouldn't be handed an entire bucket of sugary candy anyway and you need to do your job as a parent to dump that shit out, snatch all the real good stuff for yourself (like the Reece's Cups and Snickers) and hide it, and then give them what you deem appropriate in the coming days – and then send the rest of that crap off to your husband's office.

Let the kids be kids. Let them run from door to door and collect candy – save the shitty plastic trinkets for the birthday party treat bags that you send guests home with. (You know, the ones the kids play with in the car on the way home and get dumped into the garage trash upon pulling in.)

I still stand by the opinion that if your child legitimately can not have one single piece of Halloween candy and you take them Trick or Treating, you're kind of a douchebag, but I don't know any kids like that, and neither do you. This was an exercise in making the Teal Pumpkin Painters feel good about themselves, nothing more, nothing less.

As a result of this Facebook conversation (which was in no way affiliated with the mommy's group, by the way) I was removed from the group – to keep the kids “safe”. Because who knows when I might go off my rocker and grind up some peanuts and blow peanut dust in the face of some innocent child in an effort to cause a deadly allergic reaction... because that's obviously where I was headed by not painting a fucking teal pumpkin.

So, I went about my business... took my little girl Trick or Treating, she had a wonderful time, I emptied her bucket at home and of course I confiscated all the good stuff – she got to have a little bit, and hubby took the rest to work. Oh – and as we Trick or Treated – I saw not one, single, solitary teal pumpkin.

An Ode to My Husband

An Ode To My Husband

Starting with a haiku:

What in the fresh hell,

are you really that lazy?

Yes, I think you are.

My husband is one of a kind. I can't think of many times over the decade we've spent together that he's raised his voice at me, let alone his hand or any other such unsavory behavior that would send any woman with sense running for the hills.

He's loyal, loving, intelligent, engaging, sentimental, generous, and best of all he is an amazing father – completely hands on, happy to spend time, play with, love on, and care for our children. He's funny... I love his laugh, he smiles so easily, wakes up in a good mood, he's a happy person to be around. He's stable, provides for our family, values our marriage, our family... and these are the things I keep in mind each day.

Because when I get up each morning and look around, I think to myself – what the fuck?

Are these the same baby bottles that were in hot, bubbly water last night, waiting to be washed... now sitting here in tepid, germ infested, night old water?

Is that a dirty diaper sitting there beside the changing table?

Didn't I pick up all these toys yesterday... the ones strewn all about on the floor?

Is the TV still on?

Did the cat actually shit in my closet because the litter box wasn't cleaned? The same litter box I'd asked you to clean last night... and you smiled and said “uh huh.”

Are these your pants here on the bathroom floor, that you took off and stepped over on your way out the door, after violating the poor toilet (and leaving the clean up duty for “someone else”)?

Oh, and your shirt there, a foot away from the laundry basket on the floor, really?

I'm glad you have good hygiene, really I am, but what kind of tribal water ritual do you do every morning that leaves the mirror, counters, and floors all soaked?

Did you pull your toothbrush & tooth paste out of the holders this morning – I know you did... because I put the back every day, but I suppose you think they magically put themselves away after you're done... along with the toothpaste cap, your deodorant, and aftershave.

Wet towel = my side of the bed.

Ya know, it's ok though – because when you get home to take over the little ones and household duties and I go off into my office to work, I know there's some chocolate I left there – the chocolate you gifted me for Mother's Day.

You ate my fucking Mother's Day chocolate? Right off of my desk?

Also, let's talk about the refrigerator and food sharing – one does not simply leave an empty jug of juice INSIDE of the refrigerator. One does not leave exactly one teaspoon of salsa and remark “I saved you some”. No, no you didn't sir – just go for it, eat the whole jar. Also, pesto is not “dip”. Also, if I don't finish my dinner at a restaurant that doesn't make it your midnight snack. Also, who eats baby food? Babies, that's who – baby cookies are ridiculously expensive – not for you, sir.

I like to eat too sometimes. Especially my Mother's Day chocolate.

Some basics that are occasionally overlooked are mounting up... things like: trash – goes into the trash can. If that part is managed, trash cans are emptied... it's not a game to see how much you can cram in and still get the lid to close. Change it. “Change it” also means to put a new bag in. It also means take the full bag ALL the way out to the garage and put it inside the large bin. Right next to the other large bin – for recycling. Ever heard of that one? That's where the stack of boxes should be, not piled up beside the door in the garage (where they have been for weeks).

Cups – I use them too. Why do we have to be down to one cup before you stroll in with a stack of a dozen cups with rotted coffee at the bottom that you've been collecting in your truck? Get with it, sir.

Your truck also does not = trash can. When we have to take your truck to go somewhere it shouldn't require a 15 minute “clean up” lead time just to make a space for me to sit. Also, what the hell is that smell? I tote 2 kids around in my car and I have never smelled that smell.

Your dresser: A place for folded clothes. I wash them dry them fold them, and usually put them away... so how come when I open a drawer it looks like you climbed inside and waged war on your neatly, lovingly folded clothes? You needed the shorts at the bottom, I get that... the rest didn't deserve the punishment they received though.

Also, if you're going to “help” by putting away clothes, don't steal my socks – and I know my panties aren't huge, but they're not as small as our 4 year old daughter's and so how the hell do they end up in her drawers?

Also, the washing machine? It's pretty heavy duty, but it isn't designed to hold 4 loads at once – also, one word: separate.

Also, ideally a “project” is something that gets completed, especially since each one requires that a new, expensive power tool be purchased. A good storage place for said new expensive power tool is not the patio table, in the rain. Also, I suspect we wouldn't “need to buy one” if the other one (or more) weren't lost in that sad, disorganized pit that we call the garage, the one place that is supposedly your responsibility... well, that, the trash, and the cat box, but we know how that goes.

I'd share some more, but I'm tired... and just because I stayed up later than usual, doesn't mean you should let the 4 year old call the shots and stay up too... put her to bed. That is all. Goodnight.