Perfect Partners in Pumpkin Crime

Growing up (and still today for yours truly), Halloween was the kick-off to a long-awaited holiday season.

I'll cut a bitch

Even at the tender age of 3, I’d cut a bitch.

With an assist from my dad.

Letting Dad do all of the carving work because even way back when my nails were “jewels, not tools”.Β  And how ’bout the back of the pumpkin matching our beautiful carpet?

In small Iowa town where I grew up, we had costume parties at school and church (when you used to be able to call it a Halloween party complete with witches and bats, instead of a bland Fall Festival with scarecrows and hay bales – why were party poopers invented? Why?), parades to prance proudly down our eight block Main Street (where every single one of the 1,200 citizens seemed to show up) and so much trick-or-treating mania, I’d have to come home halfway through the evening just to dump my candy (hiding it all from my dad in the dryer or it’d be gone by morning) because my pumpkin got so overloaded, it was too heavy for me to carry.

hall

What better way to celebrate Halloween than to dress up as Cookie Monster and pedal your best lookin’ stuffed animals on a parade through town? Forget my adorableness for one second – what about the clown behind #165?

ped

Spectator sport for the entire town (there’s still time for you to go this year). And let’s discuss my mom’s creativity with the cookie wheels… genius!

But in my younger years, I carried the burden of celebrating Halloween by myself and being a lone Cookie Monster got frustrating.

Ho Hum

Lone monster.

Begging my parents to procreate, I was presented with my sister who was immediately awarded with side kickin’ it as my lifetime partner-in-crime (lucky her). If I was going to be dressing up (oftentimes making an ass out of myself in later years) she was going to be doing it too, by God (town parades included).

In the beginning of our twosome, we were all about cutesy costumes.

Sugar'n' Spice

The rock star and Raggedy Ann. A little sugar for my spice.

And the ‘cute’ theme seemed to carry on in our early years. Except for the tilt in our heads. And the fog in the background…

Creepy Hollow

Cute masked crusaders in Creepy Hollow.

As we got a little older, I wanted a little edge (well as much edge as an elementary kid and toddler could muster) to our giddy ups. I let my young inner badass out, as my sister scared the pants off no one.

very busy

That’s right. I was hardcore even in elementary school. My Fisher Price mobile cassette player really upped my ante of rockstardom.

We slid slightly into the creepy department as my sister joined me in grade school.

Scardey Crow

Scaredy crow and premature mini old man. Almost spine-chilling. Almost.

Then I graduated to truly frightening and fearful territory as I crept toward junior high.Β  Pebbles looks less than horrified as I try my best scare tactic on her.

Pebs

I’m also starting to wonder if there was any other color of hair paint than green, since that tends to be a trend here.

When we thought we were oh so grown up, our costumes reflected our mature attitudes.

Lady and the Tramp.

Lady and the Tramp. Or Princess and Sock Hop Girl…however you want to look at it.

But we were reminded in following years just how far from adults we were…especially yours truly. A recycled mask and costume from a previous Halloween hid my “I’m way too old for this shit” attitude toward trick-or-treating when I was forced to go with my younger sister.

Barley a Boo

I can’t tell who’s more excited – the monster or the witch.

And being older we’re not so much cute, cuddly or even scary creatures…we’re just mostly cocktailed.

bl

The odd couple. Pocahontas and Kid Rock.

Now that we’re miles apart during the costuming time of year, it’s fun to look back at our sisterly ghosts of Halloween’s past. But what’s even more fun is seeing her twin goblins growing to love the holidays as much as she and I did as kids.

As

Permanent partners-in-crime scary season #1.

I can’t wait to see what the little monsters will be for their second Halloween.

Goblins

Scary season round #2.

As we’re on the eve of Halloween, you should take a look at the old skeletons in your closet.

You aren’t a fraidy cat, are you?

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Pass the Sparkle On

I’ve never met anything gaudy that I didn’t immediately love and it’s of utmost importance (to me) that my love of sparkle make its way to the next generation.

Recital

Wishing this little giddy up still fit to parade around in daily, minus the heinous hair cut.

You can imagine my delight when I became the proud aunt of twins – one being a little girl. I knew she was going to fill my high heels in no time flat when I saw the camera hogging abilities with which she was born.

Scene stealer

A natural scene stealer.

While my amorous relationship with glitter and glitz began with a turquoise sequins top, I thought for certain this raccoon-like trait would be passed along to my niece.

love

Please put this on me and never take it off. Ever.

Turns out my Princess B wasn’t a natural-born lover of all things ostentatious.

It's my party...

An underwhelmed, sparkly Super Girl.

Seems that the only time I showed disdain in an outfit is when it lacked sparkle.

First Mate

Seriously, this First Mate shit is the best we could do?

Thinking Princess B may need to be eased into the gaudiness of Auntie CBXB, I hoped a bright pink, star adorned puffer vest might do the trick.

On and on and on

Flamboyancy fail.

To me, the only thing worse than wearing a simple jeans and t-shirt combo is the thought of anything neutral finding its way into my wardrobe. Even as a kid, the horror of me being in anything close to the color khaki threw me into fits of tears…

Nope.

Dad might as well have thrown the brown sack over my head.

So you can imagine my utter delight when I purchased the most non-subtle dress for a toddler in the world (you bet your ass I’d have a matching one if it came in my size) and Princess B showed great interest.

Be still my beating heart...

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Seeing the look on my niece’s face as she took her first few steps into the mini prom dress, I felt the taste of victory creeping over my fuchsia stained lips.

Yep....

Sparkle lover being born…

But in .00187 seconds affection turned to disgust and the gaudy sky turned gray.

Dress fail.

An all out bawl baby breakdown.

Sniffled

Followed by deep sighs and sniffles.

But suddenly the attitude was adjusted the moment Princess B stopped to smell the glittery roses and evaluated just how this ornate outfit made her feel.

But wait...

But wait…feeling fancy doesn’t suck.

And then…

TA-DAH!

Success!

Dressed for extravagant success!

Turns out Princess B will be taking over the glaringly bright, gaudy baton I will be handing her one day after all.

hi

Hopefully as a grown woman, she’ll be sneaking into famous people’s closets to play dress up, making Auntie CBXB proud.

I’m so glad she finally saw the light.

One can hope.

My shimmering heart bursts with pride.

I mean, someone needs to carry on my sparkly shenanigans, ya dig?

Sparkle On.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

 

 

 

How to Make an Ass of Yourself Dressing a Kid

Kids are so effortless, even crazy aunts could be parents.

In this corner...

Yep. Even crazy Auntie CBXB could raise spawn.

And because everything about child rearing is beyond easy, I always lend a hand (and my expertise) when visiting my twin niece and nephew in Iowa.

Now as a case in point, I am going to reveal my ten step process on how to put pants on an adorable kid.

Auntie CBXB’s Expert Way of Dressing a Kid

*Starring adorable nephew, B*

Disruption...

Step one: Disrupt playtime to put pants on kid.

one

Step two: Wrestle kid to the ground.

two

Step three: Roll back over as they try to escape.

three

Step four: Incite tears.

four

Step five: Ignore tears.

five

Step six: Try to stuff one sausage leg into pant hole at a time.

siz

Step seven: Ignore cries that have now turned into tantrum like howls.

seven

Step eight: Laugh in kid’s face.

eight

Step nine: Forget to pull pants up kid’s ass.

nine

Step ten: Congratulate yourself on what you think is a job well done.

Think I nailed it?

Think my nephew kicked it the rest of the afternoon in his cozy little gray sweatpants?

Two for one....

Pants fail.

See how easy my ten step pants process can be?

Just as easy as having kids.

CBXB

CBXB!