Empty suitcases; Full heart

We are back from our annual whirlwind visit to Kerry and Kate's home in Rosendale, NY. We have finished unpacking, but are still reveling in the memories. Typically, we stay in Atlanta for Thanksgiving day and then spend the long weekend in NY with the McCarthys. But this year, my friend Stephanie was getting married here in town on Saturday night, and not wanting to miss her beautiful wedding, we tweaked the trip a bit. We left on Wednesday (yes, we flew with two kids on the day before Thanksgiving) and came back on Saturday just in time to take the kids to my parents and get showered and changed for the wedding.

The first note-worthy report from the trip is that our children are now officially civilized travellers if this trip was any indication. Despite flying on the busiest travel day of the year, the trip went awfully smoothly. We arrived at the airport two hours before our flight, took the park and ride shuttle and proceeded to security with all of our stuff since I'm not into paying the airline to check my bag. I had read that none of the rest of the country is into paying for that particular "service" either, so I should expect looooong lines at security. However, we walked right up and barely had our shoes off before our bags were being x-rayed and we were being ushered through the metal detector thingee. We got to our gate (D1A - just in case you thought you couldn't be any further from ticketing than D1...they've added a D1A, apparently just for folks traveling with 2 kids on the busiest travel day of the year) and were nearly the first ones there, allowing us to snag a spot in a corner with a plug for the DVD player. The kids sat quietly on the floor with the new-to-them DVDs I rented from the blockbuster for $1 each for the week-best $5 ever spent-and watched until it was time to board. When we arrived in White Plains, the bags arrived promptly, we had no trouble locating the shuttle to our hotel, and despite the fact that we arrived there at 8:30 (which was our scheduled arrival time), we were in our room before 9pm. A-mazing!

The trip home was similarly civilized, and for that, I am eternally thankful.

While we were in Rosendale with the McCarthy clan, we had just a lovely visit. The preparations were underway by the time we arrived on Thursday morning from White Plains and, aside from a little understandable Turkey-day stress when you are feeding 15, it was a really nice, relaxing day to visit with family. And the meal was delish - as usual.

Friday morning we participated in our favorite new-ish Thanksgiving tradition - the breakfast buffet at Mohonk Mountain House, followed by some hiking and otherwise enjoying the grounds of this grand old hotel situated in the most beautiful setting you can imagine. This year we tried out an evergreen maze for the first time, but also made time to hike up to the lookout tower at the top of the mountain. Then, while Lil' P and I were hanging inside by one of the many fireplaces, Corin and Evan tried something else new--the rock scramble. Typically, the rock scramble is closed when we are there because it closes when the conditions are the least bit icy. This year, conditions were a bit less frigid than they usually are, so they were able to try to scramble. Although, when they finished, it somehow came to Corin's attention that children are supposed to be at least 8 to try the rock scramble. Good thing we didn't know that ahead of time, because it was Evan's favorite part of the trip this year.

Here are some photos to prove how gorgeous it is up there at Mohonk. (I secretly have a dream that we will spend a week there some summer and the kids will canoe, and swim, and bunny hop, and carry a watermelon to where the staff has its dance parties, and then at the end of the trip we'll go to the talent show where we'll sing a song about Kellerman's and someone will say "No one puts Pressley in a corner." But without all the extra-marital sex and unwanted pregnancies.)

Now that my mom is all appalled that I said sex and unwanted pregnancies in an otherwise lovely and family-friendly post (Please at least tell me that most of you got the Dirty Dancing reference. It wasn't subtle. Forgive me. I'm a child of the 80s.), I'll shift gears and tell you that we also had a lovely post-Thanksgiving-Thanksgiving with my family on Sunday after we returned.

My mom did the hosting and almost all the cooking this year with the exception of the crock pot mac and cheese that my sister brought and the yeast rolls that I slaved over (read: picked up from O'Charley's). Everything was delicious and comforting, and we had a lovely time seeing my Granny for any real amount of time for one of the first times since all her health problems over the summer and seeing my cousin's daughter who has grown into just a lovely young woman since the last time I saw her. And, of course, there was the cousin lovin' and chaos that always ensues when my kids are together with their beloved Will and Abby. This year, the cousins found my old doll house up in the attic and insisted that my dad dig it out from behind all manner of boxes and bins so they could play with it for exactly 4-1/2 minutes before they decided they wanted to play outside and see the neighbor's dogs.

Granny with the kids:

Kids playing with my dollhouse in the attic: (It might be nearly time to bring that treasure trove of memories to find a spot in my own home. Though that will be easier said than done.)

I would love to tell you about Stephanie's wedding, but I fear I have likely lost your attention by now. So, I'll save that for another day.

Farmers and Ninjas

Last Friday was Pressley's Thanksgiving program at school. She was supposed to dress like a farmer. Still not really sure why...but, given the fact that the child does not own anything but dresses (her choice) and refuses to wear pants, this was sure to be a problem. But, I tried. I went to The Target on Thursday and picked up a denim skirt for $7 on clearance. I made sure to keep the receipt, in case she refused to wear it. My plan was two-fold: first, I'd be really excited about the super cute skirt I bought just for her today, and second, I'd promise she could wear her tights and her boots with the skirt if she wanted to wear it to school the next day.

Last year, I would have never thought any two-pronged plan that involved tights would ever work. That is because last year, if we tried to put tights on the child, she acted like we were trying to break both of her legs. I'm not kidding. But, now, she prefers tights to socks. It is a wonder we ever get out the door in the mornings. The rules are constantly a-changin'. But I digress.

My plan worked and she wore the $7 denim skirt to school with the brown boots and looked just a teeny tiny bit like a farmer (well, not really, but at least anyone who knew to look would see that I tried). She knew all the words to Harvest Time, despite the fact that she only goes to school two days a week and they presumably practiced it five days a week. She even said "Happy Thanksgiving" at the end, which appears to have been in the plan for everyone, but I don't think anyone else said it. Just in case you didn't get to go to a children's program during this Thanksgiving season and you were worried that your holiday just wouldn't be complete without some unintelligible poem-reciting by some cute kids, I've included a video clip just for you: [Edited to add: I tried and tried to upload the edited version that is about a minute shorter, but I am technically challenged. Sorry about that. If you want to skip the first 45 seconds, it won't hurt my feelings.]

Then, on Saturday, Evan had his first karate test. He's been taking karate lessons since August, and this was the end of his first session. So, we all trekked on over to the Dojo on Saturday morning to watch about a hundred kids test for either stripes for their belts or animal patches. Evan is apparently still too new to be ready for a "rank" test, so he did one of the animal tests. His particular animal test was the crane test, which is about balance. He learned a series of move involving wings and beaks and shrieks and then had his test. He earned his new patch. I'm very proud of him, but not very excited about having a new patch to sew on the uniform. After all, last time I injured myself by jabbing the dull end of the needle underneath my fingernail trying to force the silly thing through all that thick fabric. Did I mention that sewing is not my strong suit?

I've included a couple of photos of Evan posing for me before the test and kneeling to receive his patch after the test. There are tons of photos of the warm-up and all the crane maneuvers in the November album. There was even a video of some of the warm-up, but it was really boring - even in the eyes of a mother - so I deleted it. Does that make me a bad mother or a merciful blogger -- or both?

The Halloween Carnival that almost wasn't

Evan's school puts on a Halloween Carnival every year. This year, the carnival was to take place on Halloween day. However, due to a sad development, the carnival was postponed when a teacher at the school passed away unexpectedly and the funeral was scheduled for that Saturday.

The carnival was rescheduled for mid-November. Being new to the school and wanting to support its goings-on (and needing a plan for a gorgeous fall day), we schlepped up to the school at 11 a.m. for the event. It was fun. Not amusement park fun or even hiking in the mountains fun, but a fun enough way to spend a couple of hours on a Saturday. We paid entirely too much money for some hand stamps that would enable the kids to use the jumpy thing and the giant slide and then paid some more money to buy some tickets so the kids could make a wheelbarrow planter (that was free to make at the Home Depot tent at the Candler Park Fall Fest a few weekends before).

The kids did very much enjoy making their wheelbarrows. Evan made his with daddy and Pressley made hers with one of the parent volunteers who had clearly never made anything as complicated as a wheelbarrow planter before. He totally practised his craft on hers, but she didn't care. They also enjoyed the jumpy thing and the slide for about 3-1/2 minutes before they decided they'd had enough (so, we paid a little over a dollar a minute for each child...). But the things they enjoyed the most were playing on the playground [free] and playing chess [also free].

But I'm glad we went and supported the school. I'm not even mad that we overpaid for everything that we did, because that money will surely enrich my children in some way that is related to their early education.

Here are the kids making their wheelbarrows:

Pressley holding up the stickers for her wheelbarrow. Please note that she has written her [long] name on her sticker all by her very own self -- and she's only three. I am very proud of her for that. And also note how blue her eyes are and how cute her freckles... ok, ok...I know I'm biased.

Here is Corin teaching a gaggle of Evan's friends how to play chess. Well, just Evan and two friends, but I think we don't get to use the word gaggle nearly enough. There. I used it twice.

And one more of Lil' P playing on the playground.

Catching up

Yall have been patient. My last two posts have been about make-up and melanoma and, well, me. I know that's not what you come here for. You come here to read about the kids. We are staying busy with their activities as usual, but it has been a while since I reported. Mainly because I had this fantasy that Corin would do a guest blog post on his recent camping trip with Evan. I thought I had him talked into doing it, but every time I brought it up, it seemed he didn't have time. See, it seems he thinks that a blog post has to be perfectly written, like a brief that he would write at work. Silly Corin. He's read this blog long enough to know the standards here are not nearly that high. But, as he is a perfectionist, he doesn't think he can just slap something together like I do, so I've given up.

Anyhoo... Two weekends ago, Corin took Evan camping with his dad, their friend Kip, and Kip's son Harris. While the boys were gone camping, Pressley and I decided to have a girl weekend. We started our day doing wedding crafts with my friend Stephanie, who is getting married next weekend. Pressley was pretty well-behaved and even helped a little tiny bit with the crafts. I was afraid she wasn't really enjoying herself all that much, but it turns out she had a ball. After her nap, we headed back out to go get mother/daughter manicures and pedicures. She has been completely enamored of having her nails painted ever since I bribed her to let me cut her nails several months back with the promise of nail polish. I've created a monster! Needless to say, she thought she was big stuff getting her nails done professionally like a big girl. The ladies at the nail salon fawned over her like crazy and even talked me into letting them paint little flowers on her thumbnails. It was all super-cute.

The finished product:

After all the pampering, we picked up a pizza and a movie on the way home. I remember seeing Enchanted on pay per view a couple of years ago and thinking that it would be fun to watch it with Pressley someday when she got old enough. I can't believe that time has already arrived. She loved the movie and sang the songs from it for days afterward. We may even have to ask Santa for our own copy for Christmas.

The next morning, we went to church and she was very proud to show off her nails to everyone who would look. She also told her Sunday school teacher that next Sunday, she and mommy would be camping and the boys would be at church. Ahhh, Pressley....not a chance. But a cute thought nonetheless.

[Imagine some clever transition sentence here.]

I always feel guilty when Corin and I split up with the kids for activities because inevitably, Evan chooses Corin to go with him and then I feel like he gets short shrift on the blog reporting. Here's the best I can do on the camping adventure based on what I've been told.

First, they had a blast. Corin actually said it may be the most fun he's ever had camping. Now, coming from me, that wouldn't be big deal since my experience with camping is severely limited. But, coming from Corin, that's saying a lot. His camping experience is vast - or at least a lot more vast than mine.

They did some hiking, some kicking around the camp site, slept in a tent, cooked hot dogs and s'mores over the campfire, and even did some fishing. Evan and Harris got along famously, it seems. Evan hiked all the way to the top of Blood Mountain, which is something like a 2-1/2 mile hike (one way). He was a real trooper, I hear. And to this day (just a second ago), he says that "climbing the mountain" was his favorite part of the trip.

He was much more enamored of the idea of the s'mores than the s'mores themselves. Apparently, a burnt-up marshmallow is just not as appetizing as it sounds.

Since I wasn't there, I will now point you to a bunch of pictures to round out the story. You know what they say about pictures.... There are none of the hike because the boys apparently played with the camera and ran down the battery before the hiking took place. Oh well. The fact that I was absent and yet photos were taken is a victory in and of itself. (More pics at the November 09 link.)

Next up, the Halloween Carnival that took place two weeks after Halloween, the Thanksgiving program at Pressley's school, and Evan's karate test (whereupon he earned a Crane patch).

Ten years ago today

Ten years ago today....

....I was a scared "little girl" in a hospital gown.

I started my day in radiology, where the tech gave me four injections of radioactive dye directly into my scalp.

I remember listening as the tech described to me (6 months and 2 days before my wedding) the three places where the dye could likely end up, indicating the spot the surgeons would take out lymph nodes to see if the melanoma had begun to spread.

As I lay perfectly still to let the dye do its thing, I recall the huge tears rolling down my cheeks as the tech said something along the lines of, "Oh, how interesting. Looks like it will be the lymph nodes by your ear." And I thought (mistakenly), that the lymph nodes would be removed from in front of my left ear, leaving a huge noticeable scar on my face for my wedding.

I can still feel the relief I felt - ten years ago today - when I realized that the removal of the lymph nodes would be from behind my left ear and would not, in fact, ruin my perfect wedding.

I had no idea what lay ahead that morning, ten years ago. My biggest fears, believe it or not, revolved around how they would bandage the spot on my scalp where they removed the golf ball sized circle of skin. Would they wrap my entire head in bandages? Would I look like a mummy?

Believe it or not, my fears on that morning did not include the post-operative pain. They did not include whether the cancer had spread or would return. My fears were all cosmetic. All vain. What would I look like while I was bandaged? What would I look like on my wedding day? Would I ever again be able to leave the house without a hat? Would people point and stare for the rest of my life?

One of the most vivid memories from the hospital stay (at Emory...the teaching hospital) is the sheer volume of people that came in and out of my room to look at me all day and night. Since the skin for the graft onto my scalp had come from my hip, there is no telling how many residents and such saw my hiney in that 24 hour period.

I remember being semi-conscious in pre-op, trying to look over to see if they had finally gotten my IV started, and hearing the nurse (or resident) say, "Oh, honey, you don't want to look over here. You don't need to see all this blood." I also have the distinct recollection of believing that everyone had gone to lunch and left me there on my gurney alone, having forgotten to deliver me to my surgery before they left. (I'm still not sure that wasn't the case.)

Oh, and I remember asking my mom to apologize to that nurse in recovery for me, because I was pretty sure I had been just awful to her.

Finally, I remember being embarrassed about the fact that I was 27 years old and had my teddy bear in my hospital bed with me. But not embarrassed enough to give it up.

I had no idea that the recovery would be as hard as it was. For two days, I could not lift my head without picking it up with my hands. Because in order to get those lymph nodes from behind my ear, the surgeons had to cut through some of the muscles in my neck. I had no idea that the graft site on my hip would be one of the most painful parts of the recovery, or that I would feel as if someone was dragging me around by my hair for two weeks (because of the fact that they had sewn the bandage to my scalp - but, hey, at least I didn't look like a mummy, right?). I had planned to go back to work - or at least to work from home - within a matter of days. Little did I know that my most intense activity for several days after the surgery would be pensively studying the contents of the bookcases in my parents' living room in my drug-induced stupor. Every time my mom asked if I wanted to watch tv or read a magazine, I remember thinking that just sounded like too much work.

Nevertheless, now that all is said and done, I am grateful. So grateful that my hairdresser found the melanoma when she did and was willing to ask me about the weird, blackish-purpleish spot on my head. So grateful that the skin surrounding the melanoma, nor the lymph nodes, showed any signs of spreading. So very grateful I never had to have any radiation or chemotherapy following the surgery. And, so grateful that I did not know on that morning - ten years ago today - what lay ahead.

I believe God shielded me from that knowledge and let me dwell on the cosmetics and vanity until it was time for me to experience the post-op struggles. Sometimes, instead of grace to handle the situation at hand, maybe God intentionally gives us ignorance. Because, after all, maybe sometimes ignorance really is bliss.

Today, I am grateful to be a cancer survivor. I am grateful that my brush with cancer was so much less life-altering than it could have been - and than it is for so many others. I am grateful for my thick hair that mostly covers up the garish bald spot on my scalp. I am grateful for friends and family who helped me through the rough patch. And, I am grateful for my God who was and is so much bigger than melanoma.

A giant let-down

For a while now, I have been looking forward to getting to the mall and buying some new make-up. (If I have any male readers, you can just stop now before I start boring you to tears.) I have realized of late that the make-up I discovered and became beholden to in my late 20s just isn't cutting it for the mid-to-late 30s skin I find myself with. So sad, really. Since I have never been to Sephora, and my friends all swear by it, I was sure it would be the answer to my skin care and make-up woes.

First, I was sure that angels would sing as I walked through the doors. Then, I was pretty sure that the employees would possess the supernatural ability to find for me a make-up which was light as a feather, but yet would cover the imperfections that have surfaced on my face in the last few years, forcing me to begin to come to terms that I do, indeed, look my age.

When I arrived at the store, angels did not sing. In fact, I was so overwhelmed by the sheer size of the store, it was like one of those moments in a cheesy tv show where the music is playing and then it screeches to a halt. Yep. That overwhelming. Next, I met a "make-up artist" (clearly they use that term loosely), who basically told me I could forget getting good coverage without feeling like I was wearing any make-up. Really? Not the best sales technique from off the block. So, I told her I'd been hearing really great things about the Bare Escentuals mineral make-up and that it was my understanding that these magic minerals could cover flawlessly without my feeling a thing. She squashed the dream. But agreed to apply some Bare Escentuals for me to see what I could acheive with it. Oh, Clinique Double Pressed Powder, you kick the hiney of the Bare Escentuals magic minerals.

As politely as I could, I pointed out that this was not quite the magic I was seeking and asked if she had anything else in a non-liquid make-up that she could recommend. She reluctantly led me to some new product that literally has a vibrating applicator. It was heads and shoulders above the Bare Escentuals (how MANY times must I type that?), so I decided to give it a shot. She would have let me leave the store with just the one product if I had wanted to - even though I TOLD HER I was looking for a whole new makeup regime. I finally talked her into selling me some primer (that she suggested because I had mentioned that the pores get awfully big in the late-ish 30s). We shall see what primer will do. I'm not convinced, but I was so disappointed in the lack of magic potions being offered, I had to try something.

If you ever meet the "make-up artist" in the Sephora at Lenox, do tell her for me that she could have sold me all manner of eye creams and concealers and bronzers and eye shadows if only she'd tried to convince me they would make me look young again. Was that too much to ask from a woman on commission? LIE to me. Don't crush my dreams. For real!

I came out of the magical land that is Sephora with the following two realizations: 1) I'm going to have to make peace with my age and the skin that comes along with it (until I can afford and work up the courage for surgery) and 2) If I want somebody to lie to me about what make-up can do, I'm just going to have to head back to the Clinique counter at the Macys.

On a more positive note, the angels apparently did sing to Pressley as we entered the store. She wouldn't have been any happier if I had taken her to a candy store. She ran around for a solid 30 minutes saying things like: Oh, mommy, I looooove this! What is it? Oooh, look mommy, PINK! Oh...I want this for Christmas. Will Santa bring me this? Look at this lovely shade of pink lip gloss. Can I have it?

Oh, and speaking of Santa... He was sitting right outside the Sephora. Before the make-up shopping, we simply stopped and looked and gave a little half-hearted wave. I asked if she'd like to sit in his lap and she insisted that later would be a better time. But, then, over lunch we (and by that I mean Pressley) talked incessantly about Santa. And she announced that we would go back to see him after lunch. I was not real excited about hiking all the way back to the other end of the mall, but figured if there was any hope of getting her to have her picture made with Santa this year, we would need to do it in baby steps. So, off we went. She took a candy cane from him, gave him "five", told him she wanted a pink mira (or mirror for most folks) for Christmas, and waved good-bye. This is significant progress since last year. Remember this?

I'm marking it as a W.

Drumroll please

I loved reading all of your suggestions. I have decided to go with a combination if a couple of entries (and since there is no prize, there is no reason I can't have multiple winners). Drumroll please.... The new blog title is "The Time of My Life: Musings of a Mommy-at-Law." Thanks Cheryl and Sandy!

Some of my favorite runners up were "Mo Carthy Than You Can Handle", "Elvis Don't Live Here No More", and of course, the crowd favorite, "Emergency Pants and Other Necessities.". I just couldn't bring myself to use that one since I am supremely hopeful (please, Lord) that the part of my child-rearing that involves emergency pants is drawing to a close. Amen.

This and that

Here are some of the highlights of my last 24 hours...

First - Evan has been telling us since last spring when soccer season ended that he wanted to play basketball. Insisted really. Basketball was totally going to be his thing. So. Yesterday was basketball registration at church. When I told Evan we were getting ready to go to register for basketball, he looked up at me and said, "I don't want to play basketball." WHAT?? Long story short: I think I figured out that he thought he was going to actually play basketball last night. And he was very tired and pretty grumpy. Left over from his super fun camping trip with Corin (more on that later). Anyway, after a few phone calls to friends' moms to make sure he'd have buddies playing, we got him registered without further incident. And now he's excited.

Next - I do NOT understand how such big poo can come out of such little people. TMI, I know. But I had to plunge TWO potties last night. Back to back. And the second one overflowed all over the tile floor while the peanut gallery stood on stools brushing their teeth and making aggravating comments. And it continued to overflow even after I shut off the water. Seriously, I do not know why these things only happen when Corin is traveling or working late. Arrrghhh.

Finally - when I took Evan to school this morning, it was raining which always guarantees a long, slow moving carpool line. After Evan got out of the car, Pressley looks up and says, "Come ON, people!" in this very exasperated tone. Oh, wow. I wanted to fuss at her and tell her that was no way to talk, but when I realized that I was hearing myself repeated back to me, what could I say? I've just realized I need to be a bit more careful what I say out of frustration in the car.

Luckily, I've had some much needed down time today and I'm ready to go back to doing my best to be a good mommy instead of a grumpy mess.

A winner (almost...)

I was very nearly ready to declare a winner (or two) in my contest, but I am in quite the ugly little place right now. My kids have...worn...me...down...today and I don't know that I should be picking a permanent blog name in such a state of mind. It might not be all rosy tonight. But, boy, you guys are creative. I've seen so many that I like, it is going to be hard to choose for sure. Stay tuned...

Must. Go. Unwind.

A bloggy contest

After much thought and prayer, I've decided (in the last 5 minutes) that I am going to host a contest. This is remarkable for a couple of reasons: a) I have never hosted a contest and b) I have about 6 readers as far as I am aware. (Maybe 7). But I got to thinking that my blog name (McCarthy Family Happenings) is just kinda boring and I need a new, catchy name. Most of the other blogs I follow have catchy little titles.

My favorite (and the one that inspired me to jump on the bloggy bandwagon), is Shay's My Other Blog is a Hybrid. I'm not really even sure what it means, but it amuses me. Her good friend Molly (whom I've never met, but I'm pretty sure we'd hit it off if we ever did) calls hers Southern Spunk - and has a super cute pic of her daughter running around in front of some azaleas to punctuate the southern. And then there's Thoughts and Inklings of an Artist (who rarely updates anymore, but still has a clever name), Confessions of a Rambling Mind... And of course, BooMama, BigMama, and MckMama (whose children all have McDonald's inspired bloggy code names to ensure their relative anonymity. Clearly she has more than six readers. As an aside, do click on over to MckMama's blog if you have a sec. She has a very ill little boy who may be having heart surgery in the next few days and could use all the additional prayers he can get. I am definitely praying for Stellen. Are you?)

Yes, I follow a lot of blogs. It is a sickness. But in my defense, I keep up with them on my iPhone so as not to spend an inordinate amount of time away from my family.

Anyhoo. I am very interested in all suggestions for a clever new name for my blog. Please don't leave me hanging by not posting any comments. It would be ever so embarrassing to host a contest with no entries. My feelings might get hurt. So, if you are one of my 6 readers, think hard, be creative, and post a suggestion. I'll leave the contest open for as long as it takes to get enough entries to make it interesting. Or until I see one I love. Or until it becomes painfully obvious that no one is going to participate. Whichever comes first.

Have a great Friday. We're off to dinner with friends followed by a puppet show. Later gators.

Happy Halloween

Better late than never, right? Actually, I haven't felt too bad since I posted pictures of the kids in their costumes from Friday night. But, here are some of the official Halloween night pictures. Despite the rainy drizzle, we had a really good time trick-or-treating. And, Pressley totally made a liar out of me. Good thing I'm not a betting woman. Not only did Pressley make it longer than 90 seconds, but she outlasted her brother. I never would have predicted that.

One of the neighbors, who always has a post-trick-or-treating bash, suggested this year that we meet on her porch at 5:30 for a pre-trick-or-treating neighborhood photo of the kids. I thought it was a great idea, but we got there at about 5:40 (last minute Ninja sword malfunction had to be repaired) and everyone had already dispersed. But, they came back together (some grudgingly) and took another photo. Still, this was only about 10-20% of the kids in the neighborhood. Oh, well...maybe next year.

After the photo was done, we separated and set about trick-or-treating. Now, I have always thought the concept of trick-or-treating was pretty intuitive and straight forward, but this year, it was like herding cats to get our kids oriented. Every time they came down some front steps, it took a good 30 seconds to get them facing the right direction to head on down/up the street. Then, at the next house, it was like they had never heard of the concept of walking up some steps and ringing a doorbell and asking for some candy by saying "trick-or-treat." They were like some deer in headlights. Like, "What is this foreign thing you ask of me?" Seriously! We had to give blow-by-blow instructions all over again -I kid you not- at EVERY house. I guess no gifted classes in these kids' future. (Don't get all bent out of shape. That was a joke.)

A bunch of our neighbors go all out. This was the lawn inflatable in one neighbor's yard:

Finally, what would a Halloween re-cap be without a little rant from me about the demise of our society as evidenced by the lack of manners of some children begging for, ney, grabbing for some free candy? Again I say, SERIOUSLY?! Who is raising these children who come to my door with some pillowcases, no costumes, no manners and expect me to give them candy? Don't even get me started on the hooligans that emptied out our 1st supply of candy, left unattended on the porch for approximately 20 minutes while Corin and I were together with the kids down the street. Dear Parents: If you are too busy to teach your children that it is wrong to empty someone's entire bucket of candy, at least have the courtesy of supervising the little thugs on Halloween night. Oh, yeah, that's right. If you are too busy to raise them properly, I guess you are too busy to take time out to walk around with them for 2 hours on Halloween night. What is this world coming to??

I wish, I wish I would not let these people steal my joy, but it just makes me so mad and sad!