Ghost Stories Should Have Ratings On Them...

Sometimes I make crap parenting decisions. Like tonight when I decided to tell ghost stories to my 7 and 4 year old children. In the middle of a severe thunderstorm. Grand idea. 


The setting was just "oh so right" for spooky stories, and from time to time I forget to be the adult in certain situations.

I begin the night off after dinner by telling them the classic story about the girl with the ribbon around her neck. You know...that age old story about the hitchhiker/prom queen/dead girl. I forget all the variations, but I stick with dead prom girl.

Totally appropriate for a four year old.

They appeared to handle this story okay, so I pull out the big guns. "The Golden Arm."

This story used to scare the pants off of me as a kid. Actually it still does.

Side note: I am a big fat scaredy pants. When I wake up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom...I typically run back to bed full speed, eyes closed, and take an extreme dive into my bed and under the covers because I convince myself something is following me. I am supposedly a grown up! This is pathetic. 


So, back to "The Golden Arm." I pride myself on awesome story telling and this ghost story is no exception.

 For real...I am the mom that will use a fake British accent in a Dr. Seuss book for one of the characters if I think it suits them. This may prove to be extremely annoying in the years to come for my poor children. For now, I'm a rock star. 


I am pulling out every ounce of theatrics I have in me to make the story seem even more frightening. Because I am an awesome mom that likes to scare the crap out of her kids.

If you are not familiar with "The Golden Arm", let me summarize it for you.

Dude marries a chick with a golden arm. She lost her arm as a child in a horse riding accident and her rich father bought her a golden arm. (Wouldn't this be EXTREMELY heavy???) Chick tells dude repeatedly that  this arm is all that she has left of her father and even when she died she wanted him to promise that she would still have it. Long story short, chick dies, dude runs out of money, digs up dead wife and takes her arm. Chick ghost comes back to haunt him, because she is PISSED! At this point in the story you say in a spooky voice, "Where is my golden arm?" repeatedly and gradually get louder until you stop on one of listeners...go silent.....and then say, "IT WAS YOU!" while grabbing them suddenly.

Epic.

Except, I chose my youngest to scare the crap out of with this tactic. And he promptly did his "I'm going to repeatedly blink my eyes because I am about to cry and I don't want to" bit.

Shit. I suck at parenting.

I immediately pull him in for a big hug and tell him it was all just pretend. He asks me never to utter the words "Golden Arm" again. I agree this is for the best.

As we get ready for bed, I have two children glued to my side. I tuck them in and reassure them that the story is fake, Scooby Doo is fake, and every other thing involving monsters, zombies, or ghosts is fake. Long conversation that I totally deserved.

I think they are sleeping now. Fingers crossed that I didn't cause my children night terrors...

I am just glad I didn't go with my initial thought of showing them one of those videos that has a demon pop out at you suddenly...

(THOSE SUCK AND I HATE ANYONE THAT SENDS THOSE TO ME!)


(I DON'T KNOW IF I AM BEING CLEAR...BUT I LITERALLY WILL HATE YOU IF YOU SEND ME A LINK TO THAT SHIZ...)

Sweet dreams all. Don't tell stories about ghosts and death to your children. Trust me. You will feel like an ass later.

Amusement Parks and Dog Cones

I have finally recuperated enough from our family trip to Valleyfair to actually sit down and rehash the details. Not that it was a bad trip. It was great. Just utterly exhausting.

For my readers that don't know, Valleyfair is the cat's meow of amusement parks in MN. As a kid I remember being in complete child like AWE of it's splendor. To be honest, I still had a bit of that awe walking through the gates...but it was more of an overwhelmed awe. Not to mention the: "Crap...everything is so expensive" awe. 

We decided to go because it was Girl Scout day which meant Sassy Girl scored us all half off tickets. Who can pass that up?? Not a cheapskate like me that's for sure! 

Several of our friends decided to come along too, which gave the hubs and I a bit more support with the kiddos in the sea of strangers. All hands on deck!

We piled into the car and headed out the night before as were were staying at a friend's house so we could get an early start at the amusement park the next day. 

Picture three adults, two crabby kids, and a dog with a cone around his head (recent neutering) piled into the car. This was our trip. It smelled like dog, peanut butter crackers, and more dog.

 The kids were at each other's throats the whole time and my patience was shredded to threads. Love and Logic parenting went right out the window after the first hour of whining and the phrase, "I'm gonna call Valleyfair and tell them we are NOT coming!" was hollered out at the kids more than once.

Apparently we are THAT important that our absence would cause great upset to the staff of Valleyfair. The phone call is necessary to prepare them for the obvious sadness and tears that would follow when we did not show up. And it will all be on you Little Dude and Sassy Girl. All on you. Be quiet. 

I'm pretty sure the friend that rode with us will never do it again. Ever. Childless folk.

Made it to our friend's house and discovered we needed to do some minor adjustments on the dog's cone as he was still able to lick himself. Where there's a will there's a way.

Vet friend suggests reinforcing cone with cardboard. The only cardboard available is an old Miller High Life case. Redneck solutions= Duck tape + beer case. Sorry dude. 

The next morning the kids are up at 5 am and on kid crack. Today is the DAY! They also got into the doughnuts when no one was looking and had about 3 each if I counted right.

The adults are sleep deprived and groggy. Cone headed dog spent half the night running into shit and waking everyone up. Dog revenge. 

After dealing with unexpected road construction, we finally get to our destination. Adults are hot, tired, and in need of a bathroom after all the coffee we downed. 

We walk through the gates and empty every last cent out of our pockets. Then it's on! Where to? Sassy Girl picks out a ride that turns her excited little face into a look of complete horror. That's my girl, alright.

There is one roller coaster in particular that I had been talking myself into going on for weeks prior. Now was the time to either put my money where my mouth was or run away with my tail between my legs. Normally I am not afraid to choose the latter...but peer pressure is a powerful thing. 

Once I am actually strapped into the thing and ready to willingly defy all laws of gravity...I start to have second thoughts. My friend decides now is the time to say, "Hey, do you remember three years ago when this coaster went off it's tracks?"    Ummm....no....?

 Why are we friends?  Just kidding. I love ya. But seriously...

Coaster starts off and I am feeling very uneasy being at the point of no return. At the top I actually say a prayer because I am a bit overdramatic at times, and I am convinced this is the end for me. 

Chains stop their torturous clinking and you hear the release. HOLY CRAP! A high pitched-blood curdling-scream like noise I have never heard before exits my body. I brace myself for 30 more seconds of this horror I talked myself into. Almost over, almost over, almost over. Phew....done. 

I get out of the torture chamber and my legs feel like jello, my head hurts, and my hands are still shaking. Yep, I paid to do this. What the heck?!

I'm convinced those cameras they have set up to snap a picture at the end of some crazy drop are just for evidence in the event of a death. After seeing my picture I am pretty sure I flat lined at that point. Thank God I said my prayers and was revived shortly after. 

Needless to say, we spent the rest of the day in the kiddie section and water park. I avoided my nemeses, the Tilt a Whirl and Teacups, but everything else was fair game. 

As the sun begins to go down we pile back in the car, go get cone head, and head for home. Our entire carload looks absolutely defeated by the all mighty amusement park. 

The next day. Could barely walk. Thank you Valleyfair for not only reminding me I am getting older, but for giving me that kick in the pants to get my affairs in order "just in case".

(Just so we're clear, I am referring to freak roller coaster accidents. They totally happen.)