My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

Dutchesses and Princesses


[I’m hosting a day-long meeting on Tuesday so here’s my entry a day early.]

So, instead of going to the folk festival this past weekend, I took the girls to buy Halloween costumes. It’s sad to think that while my mother used to hand sew my costumes, I am not a great sewer (I think I’ve mentioned my allergy to sewing machines) and don’t have the kind of time to create costumes. Plus, Dusty keeps changing her mind every twelve minutes. At Target, we were thisclose to getting her a Super Girl costume but, at the last minute, she went with princess again (Barbie instead of Disney) and we bought a wand to go with it. Red got a full body bunny suit which she loves, loves, loves. She looks like the happy version of Ralphy from A Christmas Story. Of course, Red is a girl and not nine years old so naturally she’d enjoy being dressed up in a bunny suit. It’s got a little padding in the belly section and around the butt so when she walks, the butt sashays back and forth. Adorable. I’m a sucker for a cute kid in an animal costume.

Then we went to the crafts store so Dusty could spend all her tooth fairy loot. She did quite well: bag of googly eyes, two glue sticks, and a box of 48 oil pastels.

At the grocery store, we ran into one of her school friends who showed Dusty the little ballerina doll that had come in her McDeadly Meal. Fortunately, Dusty was focused more on her friend than the trinket but here it comes….I can see it. Dusty will have lots of McDeadly-eating friends and I’ll be the mom who says before every play date that Dusty has at their house, “Oh, by the way, Dusty’s a vegetarian and doesn’t drink cow’s milk. A PB&J is fine. So is grilled cheese. Water is fine, really!” And the meat-eating, soda-drinking, fast-food-world mothers will get flustered and treat Dusty likes she’s a leper with every known allergy and drive her (and me) nuts with, “Can she eat this? Will this be okay?” As if Dusty’s not capable of saying, “No thank you” to a ham sandwich. It’s just a matter of time before Dusty becomes everyone’s Vegetarian Friend who they won’t be able to take to fast food restaurants unless it’s for pizza. Sigh. Maybe I should just move to California where we’d be more likely to be in the majority.

Sunday morning, we all went outside and Dusty pulled Red around in the wagon. Dusty decided that Red was The Dutchess and we were the Dutchess’s workers who had to gather sticks for the royal fireplace. We piled up the sticks – and there are always a million in the yard from one gust of wind or another – in the Red-free portion of the wagon and The Dutchess picked through them and threw most of them over the side. Ah, a Sisyphus moment if ever there was one!

Dusty and I laid more concrete and pressed more shells and jewels in the path. We’re nearly done. Then I need to finish the retaining walls, buy dirt (sad that I have almost five acres of land and all of it’s clay!), and plant things. Then, we’ll be totally done.

Because there were no naps (though, God knows I tried), the children danced and frolicked to Todd Rundgren. Could be a worse way of spending your afternoon. Then the Crunchilicious Raw Foodie kept me from my dinner-making chore by continually begging for green beans and sweet potatoes.

Later, a pumpkin was carved. A candle was lit. It was officially Halloween Time.

Coming up later this week:

On Wednesday we have a meeting with Dusty’s teacher.

On Thursday I go in for blood work and that pesky follow-up ultrasound. I am hoping I will hear one of the following statements, “Well, looks like the cyst is no big deal. We can go right in and snip it out.” Or, “Hmmm, that cyst seems to have disappeared! Weird, but there you go! See you next year!” Cause anything else would suck.


2:57 p.m. ::
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