A haunting we will go

I am proud to say that my little witchy woman lived in her costume this weekend. 

First, there was Music Together, where we got to witness dancing ponies, cartoon characters, princesses and various other fluffy animals.  And, of course, our adorable little witch.

Leah was IN LOVE with Elmo.  And also confused by the fact that there was a child in there...

After Music Together, the city was hosting a trick-or-treat street completely unbeknownst to us.  But since it was already there, of course, we had to attend!  We even made an impromptu candy bucket by way of her hat, which she didn't want to wear anyway. 

It was a good haul!

We also made the rounds and did a little trick-or-treating at relatives' houses.

We stopped by Northglenn High School for safestreet trick-or-treating, which turned out to be an absolutely incredible spectacle, complete with an hour-long wait to get in the door.  Fortunately, Leah passed the time by entertaining the crowd with her dance moves.  I'm convinced she thought everyone was there to see her.

We had to go through a (thankfully) short haunted house in order to get in the door, which I hadn't anticipated and immediately regretted.  Leah did well, but I was horrified I'd allowed her to go through it.  It wasn't really that scary since it was designed for little kids, but I hadn't planned on it and felt very guilty.

Unfortunately, we didn't get any pictures because it was so dark they didn't turn out.

We also got in touch with our wild side and made our second annual trek to Boo at the Zoo.  This time, we got to go with Auntie Jess and baby James.

Every witch needs a wand!

Where else would you find a monkey but the zoo?

Last year, it was almost 80 degrees.  This year, my sweet little pumpkin had the coldest hands I've ever felt and wouldn't let me put her mittens on.  She didn't seem to mind, though. 

It was a hauntingly wonderful weekend.  And all that trick-or-treating was good practice for the big even tomorrow night.

Where am I?

I didn't get two lines this month.  On my ovulation tests, that is.

Ever. 

They just wouldn't come up the way they were supposed to.  I'm not sure if that's still left-over side-effects from the miscarriage, or if it means I never ovulated, or what.  But, I tell you, it's maddening.    

Because of the wacky way that I ovulate, a pregnancy test isn't helpful until one week after I've missed my period. 

I was three days late.  Three days.  And now, something is going on down there.  Something that looks suspiciously like a monthly visitor I do not want to see. 

This is like a form of torture.  If I'm not going to get pregnant, fine.  But must I suffer through three days of waiting?  Three days of getting my hopes up, all the while trying desperately not to?  Knowing that with one spot of red in my underwear the whole thing will be torn away from me again? 

I know.  Patience.  Faith.  God's timing.  Patience again. 

But I'm all stocked up on patience, thanks.  It's time for a little instant gratification.  I know that people have it waay worse than me, so perhaps it's inappropriate for me to whine here on my little corner of the internet.  Maybe even at all. 

Call me weak.  Call me selfish.  Call me impatient.  Call me whatever you want. 

I'm ready.  Ready and waiting for this baby.  And tired of this endless cycle of praying and building myself up, trying not to hope and readying myself for the fall. 

Please, please, please.  Let this month be the month.  Please let our baby be ready for us, too.

(Nearly) Wordless Wednesday

Winter?

Bring it on.

Just take it off. I'm not ready.

Nope. 

Don't even go there.  I'm just not ready. 

I won't be ready on kindergarten day.  I won't be ready on graduation day.  Don't even start with this business. 

Mommy doesn't think it's funny, so just take it off. 

A piece of my bliss

I vividly remember the magic of the fall seasons throughout my childhood.

I remember the crunch of the leaves underneath my shoes.  The sweet smell of the air.  The rustling of wind down our street.  I remember coming home to hot coccoa and apples after school on a chilly fall day.  The anticipation of trick-or-treating, and what a special occassion it was to get a Happy Meal in those Frankenstein head buckets.  Spooky decorations. 

Silly little things that made the Octobers of my childhood seem special.  Things that are carved into my memory even all these years later.

Memories I look forward to recreating for my children.

And maybe a little free labor thrown in, too.  You know, because it builds character.

Wordless Wednesday

My bitter's better

I saw this today:

Okay, so not literally this.  There were more clothes involved.  But standing outside a store (which, I swear, was not Walmart, despite what you might think based on this story) was a woman with her two year old son, 5 or 6 year old daughter, and her very pregnant belly.

Holding a bottle of beer.  While smoking.

And before I could stop it, through my mind flashed these words:

Yeah.  I'm sure she can have lots of kids.

However much I'd like to pretend that my bitter is better, it's clearly not gone.