Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Halloween...in November

So this was the year that I realized Halloween is my nemesis.  I mean, come on.  Kids mainlining sugar like it's their job, REFUSING to take pictures in their cute fairy princess costumes, and again, RAGING SUGAR HIGHS TIL AT LEAST 10PM.

(John really needs to limit his candy intake next Halloween.)

So, the day started off all cute and fun, and I'm not gonna lie: Mama was enjoying "testing" the Halloween candy in the weeks prior.  (Which was clearly my duty as a conscientious mom. Obviously.)

On Halloween day, AG went trick or treating at school.  Being the old pro that I am (I wish you could see sarcasm; those words would be thick with it), I knew that I couldn't send her real costume to school.  Fortunately, AG owns every Disney princess dress ever made, and that particular morning, she was feeling quite Cinderella-ish.

Although I'm pretty sure Cinderella wore a ball gown, and not a miniskirt.

Later in the afternoon, when I picked her up from school, her teacher was all, "I'm sorry.  I gave them 2 pieces of candy for snack today.  I just couldn't fight it."

And I was all, "no judgement here, sister," while imagining the horror of 10 persistent three year-olds simultaneously begging for their candy.

You do what you have to do, am I right?

We head home, where my plan is to toss on her real Halloween costume, and head over to a friend's house for some pre-trick or treating pics. Now.  I realize that MOST parents probably let their kids know what their costume is ahead of time, so they can get excited.  MOST parents probably even involve their children in the costume selection process.  I am not MOST PARENTS.  Mainly because I have an extremely picky and stubborn child, and as the old saying goes, "it's better to rely on bribery and coercion than ask permission."

(Or something like that.  I can't really remember.)

I'm trying to get her costume on quickly, since we were running about 10 minutes late already, when AG abruptly discontinues her sugar-bouncing, because she suddenly realizes what she is wearing.

AG:  Mommy, nooooooooooooo!  I don't want to be a ballerina!!!!!!!  NO BALLET!!!!!!!  I NO GOING TO BALLET!!!!!!

Me:  Soooo, what you're saying, is that you don't like ballet?

(Side story: A few weeks prior, AG tried a ballet class at school.  I may or may not have gone just slightly overboard in ordering some cute leotards, ballet shoes, and tights, because, oh the cuteness. As I picked her up from her first class, I excitedly asked her about it.  To which she decisively replies, I don't like ballet.  I don't want to go anymore.  It's too loud. And I'm all, but I don't understand.  It's ballet.  Are they playing Metallica or something?)

Now, as an OLD PRO (again, excuse me while I go die laughing), I should have had the foresight to know that when I busted out her leotard and tights to use for her Fairy Princess costume, she might just have an opinion about that.

But at least I had the foresight to have candy on hand for bribing purposes.

Let's look at some pictures now, shall we?  I'm hoping the cuteness will help me forget the sugary horror.

So, I got my hair highlighted the day of Halloween, and my colorist actually darkened me to my original color. (Which is, AHEM, not blonde.  I know you must be so surprised. Or not.)
She then added in my normal highlights, so the end result was a darker blonde.
Because my hair felt so much darker to me, I may or may not have rashly announced to Facebook that I had just become a brunette.  (NO.)

Apparently, I decided to dress up as Dramatic Mommy for Halloween.

Apparently, Fairy Princesses ride tricycles.  Because they're awesome like that.

Sorry it's blurry, but sugar-bouncing prohibited good picture taking.

Do you like my fancy camera?  No wonder my pictures are so blurry awesome.

The princess, and the dragon.....and the tricycle.

Trick or treat! Sassy fairy on wheels.

Right before we turned them loose on the neighborhood, with a mission to select ONLY the fun-size Twix bars.

Happy Halloween.....in November.

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