The Zombie Elf and Halloween

    Sometimes when you're a mom, you get the crap jobs.  Daddy gets to take the kids on their first bike rides, while mommy is stuck at home changing poopy diapers.  Daddy takes the oldest kids out to a movie, while Mommy is stuck watching Barney's Sing-along.  Daddy gets to go to a basketball game with your oldest, while you clean the spit-up off your shirt--enough said.
    So, last night was one of those nights.  Cade offered to take the girls trick-or-treating, and I "got" to hand out candy and watch our two babies.  
    The Zombie Elf (our three-year-old) seemed thrilled about this idea because while I was glued to the door, he could teach Doctor Jones (his one-year-old sister) all types of bad things.
    It's funny how when you get busy, it's easy to forget simple things.  Like the fact that they were in the kitchen and I swore I heard the oven open and close.  But when I checked on them, they seemed innocent and okay, so I went back to the door.
    "I want cake, please," the Zombie Elf said.  "Cake and eggs."
    "You're really that hungry?"
    There was no time to talk though, because someone else had knocked on the door.
    Now the thing about last night is that the parents even dressed up.  Yes, that's wonderful except the mothers looked like gorgeous play-boy bunnies while I wore jeans and a loose t-shirt.  I'm not saying I want to show my butt cheeks to the world, but I did feel under dressed.
    Here's the point, I'm a tom-boy.  Some people will fight this, but it's true.  My hair is normally in a ponytail.  If you've seen it down in my vlogs, that was since I wanted to impress you--YOU--seriously.  I LOVE hiking, camping, fishing.  It seems like my soul comes to life when I'm in the mountains.  I'm just that type of girl.  So the fact that these partial nudists made me feel like an idiot really bothered me.  
    "Thank you," a volumptious waitress said as her baby vampire toddled toward her.
    "It doesn't smell like candy in there," her little boy said.  I ignored him though and waved to his fish-netted mother.
    "No problem," I said sweetly, boiling inside.
    I slammed the door.  "Let's make that cake.  Those people come here with their legs and boobs showing.  They think they can out glamor simple mothers!  Ha.  I'll make cake and then they'll smell it billowing from our house.  They'll know I can cook AND be modest.  Ha ha!  Let's see them do that!"  
    The Zombie Elf and Doctor Jones looked at me as if I'd lost it.  I baked then.  I cooked like someone was dying and cake was the antidote.
    "Boiled eggs too?" the Zombie Elf asked.
    "Yes, EGGS TOO."  I put the eggs on to boil.  I was batting a thousand.  Cooking and baking.  Boiling and stirring.  Before we knew it, the cake was in the oven and someone else knocked at the door.
    "Yes," I said sweetly, with my apron still on--I could dress cute too--with pants underneath!
    "Trick-or-treat."
    They took forever at the door.  The mother wanted to gab about my darling apron.  She'd dressed like a sexy alien.  Her alien makeup went green well past her eyebrows.  She wore some strange skirt, that would have been too short in high school.  But she was nice and I decided even middle-aged mothers who dress like that, well God loves them too.

    I wanted to impress her then.  Maybe we could be friends after she put on some clothes.
    They stayed so long, talking and gabbing, that my cake started cooking, but it wasn't the smell I'd hoped for. 
    "That stinks," her baby alien said.
    "Don't say that," she said, but then held her nose.  "Wait, it does smell . . . bad.  We'll let you go.  It smells like something died in there."
    They scurried off, reminding me of an elderly Brittney Spears and her babies.
    I ran into the kitchen and black smoke puffed from the oven.
    I opened it and gasped!  The Zombie Elf and Doctor Jones had put a few of their toys in the back of the oven UNDERNEATH the pan that catches drippings!!!
    I put on an oven mitt and shook.  My cake had barely cooked, but even that smelled like rubber and plastic.
    As I saw the bottom of the oven, I just couldn't hold in my anger.  It looked like toy soup.  A Barbie's hand wavered in the air like she'd fallen in quicksand.  I watched as her hand melted into the soup below her.
   It would take HOURS to clean up--hours.
    "Egg?" the Zombie Elf asked, calling on all of my vengeance.
    "You put toys in the oven--TOYS."  My voice was low.  My eyes were red!  "And then YOU . . . asked ME . . . to make you a cake?  You set this up.  You set this whole thing up."
    "Sorry, Mom.  Egg?"
    "Fine," I spat.  "But don't make anymore trouble!  I peeled two eggs, put my kids in their seats at the table and heard a knock at the door.
    "Don't move," I told the Zombie since I can't buckle him in.  "Don't touch the oven.  It's hot . . . and it smells like death--Barbie death."
    I was handing out candy when another mother wanted to visit with me!  What is it with these fancy mothers who dress up like bar-maids and want to talk to me!  Nobody wants to visit with me, unless they're in miniskirts.
    So I accepted fate and we visited.  After a time, she asked what the smell was, and that's when a tiny hand sneaked next to me.
    A girl screamed.  "It's a naked boy.  He's naked and he has a dinosaur mask on!"
    Why was she freaking out?  Naked--boo hoo--hadn't she seen her mother? 
    I turned to see the Zombie Elf who was indeed bare like Adam in Eden.  His hand snaked out and placed a half eaten hard-boiled egg into the girls trick-or-treat sack.
    She looked at me.  I looked at her.  Time froze for us, as her eyes slowly glided back to my son.
    Have you ever been guilty of a crime, but you don't know what to do.  I just looked at the little girl, whose eyes were now glued to my kid's dingleberry.  I glanced at the mother and did the only thing I could . . . I slammed the door.
    Rubber and plastic fumes nearly overtook us.  "You're going to sleep," I said.  I put my kids in their bedrooms, shut their doors tight and opened all of the windows downstairs.  I knew those fumes weren't good for us, they weren't good for anyone!
    But at least it was a good excuse to turn off the porch light and call it good.
    After I'd gotten most of the goo out of the oven and the fumes from the kitchen, Cade came back with our older girls.  "Did you have a great night?" he asked.  "Isn't Halloween fun!"
    "It was definitely memorable."
    "Oh good," he said.  "Wait, what's that smell?"
    "Oh that . . . it's just what Barbies smell like when they die."
    "Really memorable, huh?"
    "Oh, yeah.  It seemed terrible earlier, but now it's actually quite funny." I smiled.  "The Zombie Elf put a half eaten egg in someone's sack."
    "No way!" the Scribe and the Hippie said.  "That is funny."
    "Yeah . . ."  I hugged them both and we laughed together. "I guess it was."