Tag Archives: holidays

When I was a little porcupine. Wait, maybe It was a hedgehog….

31 Oct

People don’t really celebrate Halloween Down Under.  Ok, some do.  It’s definitely gaining popularity, but I’ve never once had any little zombies or fairies or the like come knocking on my door wanting a trick or a treat.  I will, however, be dressing Hannah up in her adorable little fairy outfit for the day.  I am American after all.  Plus I bought some candy corn from USA foods, along with 150 dum dum lollipops, so I’m all prepared.

But, I did grow up in the U.S. and I used to trick or treat every single year.  So here is a guest post by my Mom, for a little insight on me as a little tyke on Halloween.

Sheri Goes Trick-or-Treating

Yeah, that's me all right, and that readers, is the inside of a mobile home.

A long time ago in a country far away from where she lives now, Sheri went trick-or-treating for the first time.  We didn’t have a lot of money when the kids were small, so they never had store bought costumes.  Where money lacks, creativity reigns.  She was about 2 then, so one of her dad’s t-shirts pretty much covered her from neck to toe.  Add some brown material, felt feet, and a white t-shirt transformed into a pretty good hedge hog suit.

 

Her brother, Chris was always quite creative making his own costumes.  He dressed up as things most other kids never would have considered.  A bag of groceries, a TV set, and a museum all made appearances as his costumes over the years.  When he got older he made the simplest costume ever, a hooded sweatshirt, and some sunglasses – instant unibomber.

 

Sheri had some flashes of creativity of her own, though not in the same way as Chris.  Her and cousin Jennifer dressed up together as things like an enormous pair of underwear (complete with stains) or a giant pair of pants (with one girl in each leg.)

 

We lived out in the country, too far to walk from house to house.  Sure we could have gone into town like most people and walked through the neighborhoods there, but I didn’t want my kids getting their candy from random unknown strangers.  So we set out in the car and drove to the houses of people we knew in our area.

 

Many of them did not expect trick-or-treaters, especially that first year.  So they scrounged through their cupboards.  We may not have made it to as many houses as the people walking through town, but in addition to the usual fun-sized candy (and what is so fun about a half bite sized candy bar anyway?) they got full sized candy bars, hostess pies, pudding cups and that sort of thing.

 

In between houses, at least one kid had to sit in the back seat of the car, unseen in the dark by mom, who had to pay attention to the road.  Sheri’s first year trick-or-treating,  she sat in the back.  After making the rounds of all the people nearby that we knew we came home.  Chris got out of the car with a bag full of candy.  Sheri got out of the car with a bag of wrappers and a stomach ache.  Turned out she ate each thing she got between houses or on the way home.

 

Sadly she watched Chris eating candy for the next week or two while she had none.  She learned her lesson though, and never ate it all at once again.

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Braving the crazy Christmas shoppers

23 Dec

Why is it that at Christmas time, everyone seems to forget how to drive?  Or maybe it’s just that those people who don’t usually get out and about haul themselves out of bed to go in search of the perfect Christmas present/Christmas food supplies.  You know the ones, they have their licences, but they pretty much suck at driving because they hardly ever do it.  Either way, people are crazy.  Crazy I tell you.

There are lines to get in parking lots.  Then once I get there, I can’t actually go anywhere because the cars going the other way don’t get that the aisles between parking rows are actually 2 way streets.  They seem to think it’s perfectly ok to drive right down the middle of the lane/aisle/road/street/whatever you call it in a parking lot.  I finally get to the end of the aisle, ready to turn left and go to the next aisle when another stupid car with an equally obnoxious driver decides that it would be awesome to turn down the aisle I am about to exit, but instead of turning into the left lane as they should in this country, they decide to cut the corner and turn into my lane.  The cars in front of obnoxious car are still waiting in the aisle as traffic is appalling, so now no one can turn left, or even move because obnoxious car is blocking the whole lane.

All the crazies come out at Christmas time

There are no car parks anywhere, I’ve driven all over the over crowded parking lot full of useless drivers and didn’t find a single one.  I decide to high-tail it out of there as I didn’t want to go to that particular shop in the first place.  I only did to make YaYa happy.  I started turning left, to the final stretch of pavement that led to freedom.  But then one of those I-shouldn’t-actually-have-my-drivers-licence people going the other direction decided that he would move forward at the same time.  No worries right?  A 2-way road in a parking lot can accommodate cars travelling in both directions.  It can, but not when Christmas drivers are out.  This particular annoying man felt that he should take up his lane, and half of mine as well, because, well, let’s face it, driving in his own lane only is just a silly idea.

I couldn’t finish turning, so now I am blocking all traffic going the other way.  Fine, I’ll just wait until annoying man moves forward, (and hopefully, gets back in his own lane as he does so), then I’ll continue turning.  Annoying man rolled down the window on his hotted up blue Holden and glared at me.  GLARED at me.  Like it was my fault he can’t figure out how to stay in his own lane.  Wanker.

Rotund man in fake beard and bright red suit: SCARY!

2 Dec

Last years Santa photo

I’m not quite sure what the obsession with Santa photos is.  Heck, I’m a mom myself, and I don’t even know.  I do know that I definitely, 100%, want to get Hannah’s photo taken with Santa.  She got one last year (although that one didn’t go so well…), I’ll want her to get one next year, and probably even the year after that.  I’m not quite sure at what age a parent no longer feels this burning desire to make their child sit on a strange, fake bearded, bright red suit wearing, rotund man’s lap, but I guess sooner or later I will get there.  Or Hannah will protest so strongly and eloquently that I will have no choice.

I bought Hannah a nice new greenish sundress dress (so it would compliment Santa’s suit of course), put her fine bubba hair in pigtails, and washed all the gunk off her face.  I don’t know how she manages to have so many collections of gunk of her face, but she does.  I don’t call her cheeky monkey for nothing.

As we approached the queue (ahem, line for those of you who are not Australians), Hannah clung to me a little tighter.  She knew something was up, something not the norm.  She watched other kids sit on Santa’s lap, jolly smiles on their faces, squeals of delight emerging from their lips.  She clung tighter.  She watched as Santa gave them antler headbands to wear, a gift of thanks for getting their photos taken on the strange man’s lap.  Her legs wrapped around me.  I probably could have let go of her and she wouldn’t have fallen.

Our turn came and we entered Santa’s little roped off area.  We approached Santa.  Santa looked at Hannah, and gave her a

Santa photo with Me and The Jess

jolly smile, his fake beard and mustache hiding most of his mouth.  Hannah doesn’t cry a whole lot, but at that moment, she screamed bloody murder.  Her whole body was shaking.  My poor little bubba was TERRIFED of Santa claus.  She didn’t even want to look at him.

“Why don’t you sit on his lap too, and she can sit on your lap.”  The assistant suggested.  Um…ok.

“This is awkard.”  Yeah, I actually said that to the fake, strange Santa Claus man.  He gave no reply.  I’m pretty sure he had no come back for that one.

We were still far too close to Santa for Hannah’s comfort and she wouldn’t settle down in the slightest.   Not even with Auntie Jess making silly faces at her.  They snapped one photo and that was it.  I wasn’t going to traumatise my poor little monkey any further.

There was no way I was going to spend money on that horrid photo-  me, sitting awkwardly on Santa’s lap, Hannah trying desperately to escape the whole situation.  It was not a pretty sight.

Santa photo with me and Aaron

We went upstairs to Myer to have a go with their Santa.  Maybe she would be more comfortable in a quieter setting, something that isn’t right in the middle of a large shopping centre.  She still didn’t like Santa.  This one though, didn’t make her immediately burst into tears on sight.  She wouldn’t sit in his lap.  I guess I can’t really blame her.  I can’t say I enjoy sitting in random peoples laps either.  And lets face it, facial hair is scary regardless.

We did manage to get a photo of The Jess, Hannah and me on Santa’s chair, with Santa cheekily peeking out from behind the chair, not at all in sight of the terrified Hannah.  I thought it would be a bit strange just getting that photo, and not one with Aaron in it, so Aaron, Hannah and I came back the next day.  She was still scared of Santa, but we managed to get a photo.  She even gave Santa a high five at the end.  High five: Ok.  Sitting on lap: totally not ok.  Fair enough. Maybe next year she will sit on the fake bearded, red sporting, fat strangers lap.  I can only hope.

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