Chooch and I were off from our respective school/work places on Monday in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. So we made plans to meet up with Kara, Harland and Baby Theo at Cannon Coffee. Chooch loves Cannon Coffee, for some reason. It might be the tattooed barista who always tries to pressure him into trying some exotic form of hot chocolate, but in the end he always just giggles nervously and says, “No. Just regular.”

Things started out great! Harland and Chooch huddled around a phone while Theo sat quietly in Kara’s lap, allowing Kara and me to have real life conversations.

Considering we were there for two hours, they were pretty well-behaved.

But then the Storm Trooper happened. Harland noticed that there was a drawing of one hanging up behind the counter.

“Chooch, look at the Storm Trooper!” Harland called. So Chooch walked over and together they stood in Storm Trooper reverie.

“You want this?” the barista asked, handing Chooch another sketch of a Storm Trooper she had behind the counter. Chooch accepted it, which irked Harland, and rightfully so, IMO.

He asked Chooch for it and I made him hand it over. It was clear that it meant more to Harland, anyway. Chooch was all, “Ugh fine” and they both went back to their respective iPhone games, abandoning the sketch on the table between me and Kara.

But then right as we were all bundling up to leave, Chooch hovered over the sketch on the table and mumbled, “I want this.”

I reminded him that we gave it to Harland, so Chooch put his head down on the table and sighed heavily.

Harland, aware of what was transpiring, said, “But I want it too” and then laid in a sullen heap on the floor.

“But she gave it to me,” Chooch sighed.

“But only because Harland was the one who saw the other sketch first,” I pointed out.

This volleyed back and forth for a few minutes, this totally mild tug-of-war over some dumb sketch on the back of a Brookline community Christmas announcement. No raised voices. No tears. Just two kids quietly wanting the same thing while Theo silently judged them from Kara’s arms. It was the weirdest “fight” ever.

In the end, I told Chooch he wouldn’t be able to play Minecraft if he didn’t just give the damn drawing to Harland. That brought him back to reality real quick-like, and we all left Cannon Coffee as friends.

***

Later that day, Kara texted me to say that Harland was still carrying the drawing around like it was made of diamonds and gold, and that her husband was going to draw a Storm Trooper for both of them. In the meantime, she scanned the barista’s Storm Trooper and emailed it to Chooch, who was like, “Oh OK. Cool.” Totally blasé, LIKE I KNEW HE WOULD BE! That’s why I was so adamant about him giving it to Harland; I knew if Chooch brought it home, he would lose interest as soon as he logged into Minecraft.

Good god, thanks for the turbulence, Storm Trooper. It’s pretty funny though that in the eight years Kara and I have been friends, this was the biggest “conflict” we’ve ever had!

Today, I’m wearing a Silence the City Clothing t-shirt that says “Steer Your Own Path.” Chooch was eyeballing it and finally said, “I don’t get your shirt.”

“It just means, you shouldn’t always sit around and wait for things to happen,” I explained, which is one of my biggest weaknesses of being A Parent: “Explaining life lessons.”

Chooch looked unsatisfied with this explanation, so I forged on. “You know, like if we just sat around and waited for Daddy to be like ‘OMG guys let’s go do something fun!’, we’d spend our entire lives sitting in the house doing nothing, never going anywhere but school and work, because he would never say anything like that. That’s why I’m always the one finding fun things for us to do.”

Chooch considered this and then said, “Well, Daddy did say something like that once, I think. But it was just about going to the Laundromat.”

Chooch had his first lesson with his punk rock piano teacher this morning and it went really well, actually! We had been trying to find him a teacher for awhile now but no one would respond to us. Then Henry found this girl Cheryl’s ad on Craiglist and she said she’s played in various local punk bands and has a very alternative approach to teaching piano so I knew immediately she was the one.

And she is awesome. Everything I imagined! Plus she’s patient and Chooch seemed very comfortable around her (though he did giggle a lot).

I can’t wait to steal her from Chooch.

She asked him if there were any songs he really wanted to learn to play and he blurted out “Silent Night.” Henry and I looked at each, raising our eyebrows in a “WTF, since when?” manner. Cheryl was just like, “Oh. OK. We can learn that one eventually!”

Anyway, the main focus of today’s inaugural lesson was for her to gauge which style and approach would be best for him, and she said she was surprised at how fast he was picking up the basics (aside from me playing clarinet in middle school, none of us are musically inclined, so Henry and I were just as surprised; I was actually preparing for him to bomb). Apparently, she thinks Chooch has the ability to play music by ear.

I had no clue.

He started fiddling with his keyboard as soon as we came home and then asked, “What is Silent Night, anyway?”

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

*(Bradley Bell plays keyboard in Chiodos, for those who aren’t immersed in the scene.)

Not that I’m surprised, but my friend Maya from SWStitchery has done it again. I broached the idea of possibly making a Christofer Drew doll for Chooch at some point. I knew she’s been swamped with custom orders and studying and life in general, so I didn’t demand any set deadline or anything; I just sent over a few pictures of younger, wolf-hat-era Christofer Drew and left it at that.

I didn’t even know that she had started to work on him, so when she sent me these progress photos last week, I was totally surprised and stoked: LOOK AT THAT HAT! THE HAZEL EYES! THE DOUBLE LIP RING! THE ANCHOR TATTOO (ON BOTH HANDS, EVEN!), THE BRACELETS!

(Photo by Maya)

Maya has totally outdone herself on this one! That hat kills me.

Christofer with Vic and Jonny. (Ju-On was busy haunting Chooch’s room at the time of this photo shoot and besides, she doesn’t want to be in the band.)

I think it’s safe to say Chooch is stoked for life over this one. Thank you for feeding our obsessions, Maya!! I’m constantly floored by your talent!

Alternately titled: Where We Torture Our Kid Under the Guide of “Art.”

I’ll tell ya, we’re met with more and more resistance every year when it comes to picture-taking. I got all exasperated, which is my usual go-to response to adversity, followed quickly by the ever-popular solution of “I QUIT.

” But then right as I was about to pack it up, Chooch started to use an old guard rail as a balance beam, so Henry fulfilled his quota of “one bright idea every five years” by tricking Chooch into having his photo taken while “doing things.

”

Then we dared him to run as fast as he could to another spot and then suggested he sit down amidst the leaves after he hurt his ankle.

Henry encouraged him to hurdle over headstones, which of course resulted in Chooch eventually catching his foot on one and falling, leaving him with a handsome bruise on his leg.

BLAME HENRY.

Then we paid him all the money in our pockets* to take his coat off for approximately 3 minutes so we could get some shots of his sweater, since that day’s outfit was a happy accident. (All three of us blindly picked out one component of the outfit, and somehow it worked.)

*(This amounted to $7. I actually had $4 in my pocket only because it was change from when we went to see Gremlins last week. I usually never have cash. Seriously, don’t ever bother mugging us.)

He looks thrilled, right?

I had a serial killer card to mail this morning so POOR CHOOCH had to GET DRESSED and WALK 1.16 miles to the post office with me, GOD FORBID.

There’s a Dunkin Donuts halfway between the post office and our house, so I placated him with the promise of a donut and hot chocolate. Yes, I’m what’s wrong with America.

After spending unlimited minutes motherfuckering all the cars who refused to yield to pedestrians (YOU KNOW WHO YOU MOTHERFUCKERS ARE), we finally made it within the safe confines of the post office (not the shitty Brookline one where the only requirement of the employees is to have the personality of Republican styrofoam).

The girl in front of us was totally Harajuku to the point where I expected her to be Asian. (I RACIAL PROFILE, OK.) (THAT WAS A DUMB JOKE, I DO NOT.)  Just from the back, she looked really Kawaii-girly in a poufy floral skirt, blue ankle socks and super cute teal heels with birds sticking off them. And she was definitely wearing a fuchsia wig with bouncy curls. The woman behind the counter was asking her if she was wearing a costume and the girl was trying to explain that this was just how she dressed, but that she does actually make costumes too.

When the postal clerk left the counter to get something, I asked the girl if her shoes were Irregular Choice. They were, so we started discussing the pros and cons of that shoe brand, at which point Chooch made a loud noise of disgust, groaned, “Girls!” and walked away.

And then, when my new BFF was on her way out of the post office, she noticed my holographic eyeball purse and exclaimed, “Oh! I have that same purse*! Mine is the smaller version though!” Which then queued up a dialogue between me and the postal clerk. And this was Chooch at that moment:

Afterward, we went to Dunkin Donuts and he immediately burnt his tongue on his hot chocolate. Chooch is having a real DAY.

*(If you’re new here, Chooch HATES it when people talk to me about my eyeball purse because oh noes, five whole seconds go by without people paying attention to him.)

I was surprised when I met Never Shout Never. they mean so much to me like this much ——————————————————————————————————– that’s how much they mean to me.

When we met them, I did NOT know what we were going to do. So Jason was there, I told him that I wanted to meet Christofer Drew and then he said “yeah and I want to meet Christina Hendricks.

” When we walked into the room to meet them I was like OMG really you’re making me meet them? OMG. Christofer said nice shirt and I said thanks, actually I was shy. He took my hat off of me and put his hat on me and my hat on him and I felt like OMG now I have his ghost inside my hat and my ghost inside of his hat.

I got my picture with them I still was shy.

Christofer gave me a guitar pick I broke real quick on an accident. They told me to play the tuba and that I would get all the girls haha and then they told me to go to Chicago with them.

My favorite part of the night was when they played my favorite song Lost at Sea. It’s on the album Time Travel. When they played it I sang the whole song.

OMG I finally met them and I probably will never again.

You should listen to Harmony. It’s an album. My favorite song on that album is First Dance! And Trampoline. Actually, Trampoline is mommy’s most favorite.

I’ve been getting all nostalgic over past Christmases (in a good way, though) and tonight I found this picture of that time I ruined Chooch’s first Christmas by making him chill on a couch with clown dolls. (Merry Christmas, Chooch, have a hearty dose of coulrophobia!) So I decided to post it as a wordless Wednesday-type thing because I’ve had A Day and can’t really contribute much else to the Internet right now. Plus, hockey is on.

Two more days of work and then I’m off until the day after Christmas, wooooo.

Today’s earlier post was way more bitter than I originally intended (I feel much better now though!), so here is a festive photo of Chooch wearing a slightly-too-large sweatshirt Henry bought him at the Never Shout Never show last week.

I don’t think he’s fully recovered yet, by the way. Saturday night, Janna was hanging out with us and he was telling her about how Christofer Drew took the wolf hat from him and wore it. Flipping the hat in his hands, Chooch murmured to Janna, “And now Christofer Drew’s ghost is in my hat.” It was fucking adorable. Sometimes he says sweet shit like that and I’m like, “Who are you?”

Last night, after Henry and I sent Chooch to bed, we could hear him in his room singing songs from the “Indigo” album, a cappella. Again, it was fucking adorable.

But then this morning he was a total asshole and a complete jerk to be around, so all is balanced again.

I never in a million years would have thought that one day I would be taking my seven-year-old son to a show at the motherfucking Grog Shop. Yet, there we were, 7:30 on a Wednesday night, with our kid at the Grog Shop.

I guess it must seem weird, or maybe even like shitty parenting, to some people. But you have to understand, he doesn’t have a mild affection for this band’s music. He has devoured every last song by Never Shout Never that he has gotten his hands on ever since this obsession started. He knows song names, what album they’re on, every last word in the lyrics. So I didn’t really have a problem with the occassional double-take we’d get from other fans at the venue. Are we letting him do shots of Jack at the bar? No. So STFU.

However, he still is only 7, after all, and his attention span reflects that quite clearly. So for the two openers (Front Porch Step and Nick Santino—both were wonderful, btw), Chooch was super ornery and whiny until Henry scouted an area by the merch tables where Chooch could sit. There was kind of like this long black wooden booth up against the window, and Chooch laid on his stomach back there and read his Simpsons book until Never Shout Never came on. It was kind of nice, because I was able to enjoy the first two singers in peace.

Around 8:30, manic outburts of “CHRIS, I LOVE YOU!!!” reverberated around the Grog Shop and Chooch snapped to attention. (He gets so annoyed at those girls though, and kept yelling, “NO YOU DON’T!!!”) They played until around 10:00, I guess, this intimate acoustic set full of quick banter and I realized that I really do like these guys. Thanks, Chooch! They’re entertaining as fuck.

Our friend Jason was at the show as well, and in lieu of a polite “hello,” Chooch opted to march up to him and demand, “I WANT TO MEET CHRISTOFER DREW!” He knows that Jason is the editor of a certain Cleveland-based music magazine, so for a second there, I was left wondering when I became the mom of Veruca Salt. Chooch is usually pretty good about not being a spoiled brat. USUALLY.

“Yeah, well I want to meet Christina Hendricks, but that’s not going to happen,” Jason countered. I was so embarrassed. I don’t like asking people for favors, ever, because it makes me feel like a user. So I gave Chooch a good rap on the head for that one.

So Chooch went back to standing on his seat (it was the only way he could see the stage) and trying to guess what each song was going to be based on the background stories Christofer would preface them with. He was so smug when he guessed “Piggy Bank” and I guessed “Sell Out” but he was right. So for the next 15,000 days, it’s going to be, “Remember when you guessed ‘Sell Out’ and were WRONG?!” Ugh.

At the time, I thought the highlight of the night for me was going to be when Chooch sang along loudly to Lost At Sea. I love listening to Chooch sing, and I wish I had recorded him that night, but I was too in the moment.

We cheered when they played “On the Brightside” and “California,” and Chooch got big ideas when Christofer hung upside down from the rafters. (And I instinctively slapped my hand over my chest and panicked, because I’m a mom now and that is what moms do.)

And then Chooch kept screaming, “PLAY ‘TRAMPOLINE‘!!!!” and everyone in front of us would turn around to see who was screaming but Chooch would promptly duck and I’d be the only asshole left standing, so after the fourth time, these kids were probably thinking, “Dang, that old lady REALLY wants to hear ‘Trampoline’!”

(They never did play it. And this old lady really did want them to!)

“If I ever meet them, I’m going to ask them how to buy Sunflower!” Chooch spat, because he is very angry that their last album was released as a digital download. He likes to buys CDs and have the full, tangible experience of pulling out the liner notes and poring over the lyrics. In other words, he is certainly my kid.

Anyway, after the show, we milled about and chatted with Jason for a little while, and the guy behind the Front Porch Step moniker gave Chooch a free poster, which was totally sweet. I really wanted his album but asshole Henry didn’t have any cash left on him, SO HE SAYS.

Meanwhile, Jason excused himself, saying he would be right back. Because I’m super naive, I didn’t think much of it. Chooch wasn’t in any  hurry to leave anyway, because once the crowd cleared out, the floor of the Grog Shop opened up into an open-spaced paradise, so he ran around doing round-offs and other scary parkour-y things, and we became Those Parents who bring their kid into a bar and let him do gymnastics. (In my defense, no one seemed to fucking care!)

So then Jason came back and asked me how old Chooch was. Still, my naivete prevailed. Until Henry was like, “He’s trying to get Chooch back there to meet the band, dummy.” So then I got all sweaty-palmed and panicky.

“Well, we’re going to have to try and get past all these girls,” Jason sighed, nodding toward the throng of salivating Christofer Drew groupies congregating in the tiny hallway outside of the backstage room door. This also happens to be the way to get to the restrooms, which Chooch had already visited once that night, so he was like, “Why are we following Jason to the bathroom?” I told him to just keep walking, and his mouth was going non-stop as usual. Seven-year-olds, right? They never fucking shut up!

So all these girls are like “WTF!?” when the guy guarding the door steps to the side to let us through, and Chooch is still clueless. Jason knocks on the door, and Chooch is still rambling away as we all walk into this small room. I stepped out of the way to give Chooch an unobstructed view, and that was when he realized that he was about 3 feet away from Christofer Drew. He looked like he was going to melt into the floor.

We all moved aside so that Chooch could step into the middle of the room and everyone stood up to greet him and shake his hand. Aside from Christofer, there are just two other guys in the band, Taylor and Hayden, and they were all so kind and sweet to us. But when Christofer was standing in front of Chooch, shaking his hand and asking him questions, Chooch absolutely clammed up. I think he literally lost the ability to speak, you guys, and I have never, not once, seen my kid that speechless. Not in 7 years. And then he started doing this thing with his hands, placing them on his face and pulling them in opposite directions, like he was actually trying to rip his skin open and step out of it.

There was a moment when he quickly turned his head away from Christofer and closed his eyes shut real tight and his face became flushed. I could tell he was fighting tears, and my heart broke in a million shards. This kid was in some fucking state of agony, and suddenly I began to recount all the times I got to meet bands that meant so much to me and lost my voice while standing in their presence. It’s beautiful torture. And somehow, my son is experiencing this at a very young age. I don’t know if I should be happy about this or pity him.

So with Chooch being speechless, I had to do the talking but I was nervous as fuck too! I could hear my voice shaking but I powered on for Chooch, and told them all how much of an inspiration they’ve been to him, how I have never seen him with such a vested interest in music before them. I mean, he likes other bands, sure. He likes Pierce the Veil and Chiodos, the Summer Set and We Came As Romans, but not anything that even comes close to matching this. Their music makes him thoughtful. We talk to each other about the lyrics and what they mean. They’ve opened up this emotional outlet in him that most kids probably don’t discover until they’re teenagers, I’m sure.

But he’s seven, and he doesn’t know how to tell them that. So he stood there in stunned silence. And then he held his wolf hat out to Christofer who took it from him and said, “This is a good style” before swapping out his own hat with it, and then placing his mini-top hat on Chooch’s head.

I’m pretty sure Chooch might have pissed himself. Just a little. Christofer pulled two guitar picks out of his pocket and gave them to Chooch, and definitely he pissed himself then.

Then Taylor said he likes his shoes Christofer said his Never Shout Never shirt was trippy, and Chooch was so overwhelmed by this that he had squeezed himself into a corner in between my back and the door. Taylor set out a folding chair for him in case he changed his mind and wanted to come out of hiding. And then he offered him a bottle of water, which Chooch was surprisingly able to activate enough of his motor skills to take from him.

“I’ve literally never seen him so quiet,” I told everyone.

“Oh, I know!” Jason remarked. “He was talking non-stop out there!”

Chooch kept whispering to me, “Mommy, I’m so shy. I’M.SO.SHY.” But he’s not shy. He was starstruck. I think the closest I ever came to that feeling as a kid was when I wrote a letter to Melissa Brennan, who played Jenn Horton on Days of Our Lives (I have been referencing this damn show so much lately, what the fuck) and she sent me back an autographed headshot with a hand-written letter thanking me for my support. I thought she was the fucking Queen of England after that. But I can tell you for a fact that my awe back in 1988 was nothing in comparison to what Chooch was feeling in that precise moment on 12/11/13.

I wonder what would have happened if I had told him beforehand that he was going to get to meet them. Henry thinks Chooch wouldn’t have been able to go through with it.  I kind of think it was fun to go the sneak-attack approach.

We got to hang out with them for about 20 minutes and I can’t stress enough how incredibly generous they were to make time to meet with Chooch. Between them and Jason, they gave Chooch such a great gift and I will never be able to thank them enough. Jason didn’t have to go out on a limb like this for us, and those guys certainly didn’t have to say yes. This may have been the best moment for me as a parent, to date, and I just want to start sending everyone fruit baskets or something. What the fuck is wrong with me!?

This is what matters. This is the shit I want to give my kid. Not Xbox and whatever the “in” toy is this year. I want to give him memories and experiences, things that he’ll look back on as an adult, things that will shape who he becomes. I promise you that nothing he could unwrap on Christmas morning could take his words away like that.

***

After promising them all that we would be careful driving back to Pittsburgh, they all shook our hands again (mine was SO HOT OMG, I’m sorry Never Shout Never) and we had to re-brave the horde of girls outside the door.

We parted ways with Jason outside the Grog Shop after thanking him profusely for literally making our kid’s dream come true. After we walked about a block away, Chooch totally lost it and started SOBBING.

Kid, I know the feeling.

In the car, I jokingly said to Henry, “We should have told Christofer about how Chooch screams that he wishes he was his dad every time he gets mad at you.”

“Yeah,” Henry laughed. “That wouldn’t have been awkward.”

This last week has been TRYING as far as parenting goes. I definitely feel like I’ve been screaming at Chooch more than anything else, because he is so fucking bull-headed (i.e. SO UNLIKE ME). The whole “There goes another Christmas present!” tactic totally doesn’t work anymore, by the way. I guess I’m going to have to swap out “Santa” for “Satan.”

“SATAN’S WATCHING YOU, YOU LITTLE ASSHOLE!”

And he definitely still believes in ghosts, so I can always go that route too.

Mornings and late evenings are especially bad. Sometimes he wakes up as Contrary Chooch and will battle me on EVERY LITTLE DETAIL down to the SOCKS I laid out for him to wear. My response is usually, “YOU ARE FUCKING 7 YEARS OLD STFU AND GET DRESSED.” Sometimes I try to kill him with kindness or make jokes, but in the end, I usually end up losing my temper and yelling. I hate power-struggles. I HATE PARENTING!

Last Wednesday night, I was walking home from CVS and he was outside waiting for me. I KNEW he was going to try to bombard me with snowballs so I sternly said, “Do NOT throw snowballs—the snow is too icy!” But that son of a bitch whaled one right at my fucking face and it slammed hard into my temple. I instantly started to cry because that HURT, OK? And once Chooch saw that I was straight sobbing (I’m pretty good at embellishing), he got scared. He knew he done fucked up, but god forbid he should apologize. Instead, he starts making excuses and laughing nervously, and by the time we fought each other to storm through the front door, we were both SCREAMING hysterically and Henry came out of the kitchen like, “WTF?”

I stood in the middle of the living room screaming, “I THINK I’M LOSING MY EYESIGHT AND HE DOESN’T CARRRRRRREEEE!!!” and Chooch is yelling, “SHE HATES ME!!!!!!” simultaneously and the neighbors probably have their fingers poised to dial that last 1 in 9-1-1.

It’s been that kind of week.

But then there are really sweet moments, too. And wine. And those are the things that keep me from getting that artists loft that I keep dreaming about. Like the one BO BRADY had in the 80s on Days of Our Lives. But seriously, how great would that be? I’d fill it with old mannequins and pretend like they were my friends. :(

Oh, right. Sweet moments. Like last night when Chooch was talking about the Santa Shop that’s happening this week at school. He wants to get something for our friend Andrea, but he became very perplexed because “it’s not like they’re going to have any death there.” Henry and I started cracking up but Chooch was very serious. He should write a letter to the paper about how the Santa Shop discriminates against people who collect dead things in jars.

Unless one of us kills the other before then, Chooch and I are going to see Never Shout Never next Wednesday in Cleveland. Henry isn’t sure if he can go because his job is stupid and I am PANICKING about this. Chooch and I haven’t gone further than like, 50 miles away without Henry. And that’s probably a gross exaggeration. Maybe closer to 25 miles? Sometimes it’s just really hard for me to get into Responsible Parent Mode. I like it better when Henry can just deal with that and I can skip around being flighty and immature. Because that’s my true nature.

If you live in Cleveland and see two dummies flailing about in Lake Erie, send the Coast Guard because I clearly drove off the map.

(PLEASE DO YOUR RELIGIOUS SPELLS SO THAT HENRY IS ABLE TO GO WITH US, OMG.)

Look, no one wants to put their kids on blast, but it is important for me to write about the lows and not only the highs. Because having shit like this to look back on makes me appreciate the highs that much more. This is real life.

We argued the whole time we were in the cemetery on Sunday. But then by that night, we were able to co-exist peacefully on the couch and watch the mid-season finale of The Walking Dead together. (OMFG THAT SHOW IS KILLING ME.) And then the next morning, we were walking to school behind our Morning Nemesis and she was SCREAMING at her kid for pretty much no reason and that kind of made me take a step back and appreciate that at least Chooch and I can walk to school together without putting our disputes on display. That’s a small victory, right?

So no, things aren’t perfect around here. But I guess they’re not really THAT bad either. And when I do start to lose the will to parent, I just go back and look at pictures of Chooch being, well, Chooch. And then it’s not so bad.

(That fucking snowball did really hurt though!!)

GHOUL MANSION:

when we were in line a bloody nurse tried to lick us not daddy though. When we were inside we had to go down in the basement we got separated from henrys beard we had to stand in the dark which we didn’t have to it was all erin’s idea. erin was too scared to move and leave daddy alone I thought she hated daddy!

this dude came and scared us and we said “where is henry?!” and the dude said “I ate him” and we were like “no seriously” he was like “HENNNRRRY!!!!!” Then when we went around the corner after henry finally came back a clown had one of those little horn things and it was like BEEEEEP.

then we had to go up steps and a kid was down there and was like “Can I eat you” and then we finally got up the steps. and then like four rooms later we were walking down this hall then the same kid that was under the steps saying can I eat you and I was like “aw crap” in my mind. and he was like “remember me? I was under the steps! I wanted to eat you! can I eat you alive? can I eat you alive” and then finally we got through that hall and had to go through another hall and that kid was still following us. henry was in front of us and I was like “i’m gonna push you” I said that to the kid, so I pushed him and still I couldn’t get past him.

“I gave a high five to a clown it was awesome I really liked the haunted house”.(:

DEMON HOUSE

Erin got off work at nine picked up JANNA “GOD FORBID” Erin got lost because Henry gave us bad directions mommy scared me bad. Mommy lied to me and said that demon house wasn’t scary. when we finally got there, well we didn’t get to the haunted house yet, we had to drive on a bus because mommy crashed into a tree, just kidding. there was no one there so we didn’t have to stand in line. I brought Murder Victim with me, a stuffed dog.

when we got to the demon house for real we sat by a fire and a dude called our number so we had to go up and he talked to us about something and made janna knock on the door. it wasn’t scary though. it was just a cave. like a fake cave made out of fake stone. it was like a mine. Murder Victim was scared.

Once we got out of the cave we had to walk through a forest and then this clown said “follow me!” Then we heard vrrrrooooooooom three chainsaw guys came out of the forest we pushed Janna into one. Me and mommy went the wrong way one chainsaw guy said “that way.” Then we got to the real haunted house.

I hate writing.

My favorite part inside the house was going upstairs and playing hide and seek when these two people wanted to play hide and seek and they said “if you find ME, you’ll be dead!! If you find HER you’ll be safe!” So we found her. In the second room this guy said IS THIS YOUR MOMMY I was like “yeah who the eff would she be??” He was like “well she’s a terrible mom for bringing you here!!!”

Oh yeah at the end of the haunted house Dr Who was there! He was like ready for time travel? Scream YAY TIME TRAVEL! Louder! YAY TIME TRAVEL! I can’t hear you, louder! So we had to go through this maze thing that wasn’t really a maze he was like GO THAT WAY!

I like Dr Who.

At the end, Janna god forbid wanted APPLE CIDER but I wanted hot chocolate.

What a good day for hot chocolate.

I got to have a glow stick and we sat and watched Ghostbusters first then when that was over we say by the fire. It was really warm. I put Murder Victim on Janna’s lap and Erin was like “where’s Murder Victim?” I was like on Janna’s lap you dumbass! But before that I lost him for real but I got him back.

I liked Demon house I was not scared. Erin and Janna were.

We roped into Blake into hanging out with us on Saturday so I could get some updated pictures of him and Chooch. We got a late start though and were racing the sunlight, so we decided to get the pictures out of the way first before eating, which wasn’t the greatest plan because we were all fucking hungry and on edge. And the location I picked was muddy and overgrown with jagger bushes, so that was a shit ton of fun, especially when right off the bat I sank down into a mud bog while wearing white TOMS. If Blake hadn’t been there, I probably would have murdered Henry over it. But I was trying to be a good girl!

We wrapped it up within fifteen minutes, which might be a new record as far as me and photo shoots go. I didn’t get a chance to force a sweater on Chooch, so he rejoiced about that.

“Take a picture of me so I’m like blurry,” Chooch demanded.

We made Blake wear Chooch’s second Christofer Drew-inspired hat.

On the way back to the car, Chooch stepped in a huge mud puddle (that place is like a goddamn swamp, and it STINKS too) and wound up with his leg coated in gooey mud all the way up to his knee. Henry was so pissed, so Chooch made sure to say it was Blake’s fault. So then Blake and Henry got to work, trying to scrub Chooch off enough for him to be able to walk in a restaurant afterward because WE WERE FUCKING HUNGRY. Chooch saw this as an opportunity to go buy new shoes, but Henry barked, “I WILL WASH YOUR SHOE.”

We ate a late lunch at Wagner’s in Elizabeth, where Henry shot daggers at Chooch from across the table for being inappropriate and I just laughed as usual.

Chooch declared this “the best day ever” until Blake threatened to throw Bunny out the car window, which resulted in Chooch sobbing to the point where he almost puked. Wouldn’t be the same if a hangout with Blake didn’t end in tears! Brotherly love. <3

I honestly can’t pinpoint what launched Chooch and me into such a giddy tirade this last Sunday evening, but it started around the time I randomly decided to play around with the Hipstamatic flashes that I never, ever use.

And then Henry sat down on the couch with his dinner and was totally irritated because I kept flashing my phone in his face, and guess what? Go eat at the dining room table, then!

That’s what it’s there for!!

I mean, seriously. How can you be THAT ANNOYED when you live in a house with two sweethearts (me and Chooch, in case that wasn’t obvious).

Somehow, it went from innocent picture-taking to hyper video-recording, some of which made it onto Instagram, much to Henry’s chagrin. At one point, he actually locked himself in the bathroom in an effort to get away from us, so Chooch started recording his sock-feet from beneath the door. Oh my god you guys, we were laughing so hard that Chooch straight puked on the floor at one point. THAT IS A SIGN OF A GOOD FUCKING NIGHT.

Of course, it ended in tears though when we were jumping on Henry, who was laying on our bed in defeat by that point, and Chooch hurt himself on Henry and then started SCREAMING about how Henry hurt him on purpose—-hopefully the neighbors heard that one and logged it. So then I got mad at Henry for ruining our night by making Chooch cry and Henry was all, “JESUS CHRIST” and Chooch was all, “I HATE YOU!!” and then I was all, “OMG IT’S ALMOST TIME FOR WALKING DEAD” so Chooch and I went downstairs and got cozy under a blanket and made Henry go to McDonald’s to get us sundaes because we’re fucking fantastic that way.

I guess if you’re a proponent of Henry, now would be as good a time as any to bust out the Poor Henry pin.

My abdominals actually ached a little bit on Monday morning, that’s how I know my laughter is hardcore.

Chooch didn’t have school yesterday so I paid him $10 to write in my blog and then a half hour later, I said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you that $10 includes a photo shoot, too.” He WISHED he had school yesterday. We were only out there for about 20 minutes and the compromise was that he got to wear his Never Shout Never shirt, so everyone was happy in the end. It’s pretty shameful how infrequently I have been using my real camera. I guess it’s mostly because it’s kind of a senior citizen now as far as cameras go and DSLRs just don’t become “hip & vintage,” I’m sorry. Every time I get close to getting a new one, I decide I want something else instead. Or the car needs fixed. Or we need to pay rent and but groceries. You know, all those pesky problems. Oh, and we upgraded to a newer version of Photoshop which most people would stoked about me, but not me. I HATE CHANGE. IT IS DIFFERENT! HARDER TO FIND THINGS! I HATE IT. (I also have barely given it a chance. Chooch’s birthday party pictures from last spring are still sitting in a folder waiting to be edited because that was when The Photoshop Upgrade happened and I almost tossed the computer out the window.

Anyway, who cares about my first world camera drama. Here are some current non-iPhone snaps of Chooch as a seven-year-old Never Shout Never addict.

Mouth open, mid-bitch.

“Do you think Christofer Drew knows how much I love him?” Chooch asked me yesterday. Never Shout Never is doing a small tour next month to support their upcoming Christmas EP, so we’re planning on taking Chooch to the Cleveland show. It’s not a surprise this time, god forbid. But maybe Chooch will get to meet him this time and tell him all about how he wishes he was his dad.

On Sunday, we were driving to the mall and passed a furniture store that had a very dramatic CLOSING FOREVER! sign out front. Chooch got really sad about this. I asked him why and he said he was sad for the people who bought all their furniture there. He definitely inherited my whacked-out emotions. And then of course I became sad for the people too. Henry was just like, “Jesus Christ,” and kept driving with a frown on his mug.

We went to the mall to buy Chooch some more school clothes because I acted all shocked that he has grown out of his long-sleeved clothes from last year, which prompted Henry to explain to me that growing is a common occurrence with children. But since we were there, Chooch and I dragged Henry to Hot Topic where I got the new Dance Gavin Dance album and then to FYE where Chooch found the “Year One” Never Shout Never compilation and also, sadly, a Backstreet Boys CD for $3. I wont ever deny the kid music, but I asked him to just please only listen to it when I’m not in the car. (I was an N*Sync fan, OK?)

FYE sucks.

This morning when were walking to school, two people stopped to tell him that they liked his hat. He was SO FUCKING SMUG about it and said with a shit-eating smirk, “Ha! Just like your PURSE, Mommy!” He hates it when people stop to compliment me on my holographic eyeball purse.

We might not have the conventional mom/kid relationship, but it works. I had the best October now that he goes to haunted houses with me and I look forward to Sundays so we can watch The Walking Dead together and then we have discussions about it the next morning while walking to school. He might piss me off 870000 times a day (like this morning when we had a mild argument over what shoes I thought looked best with his outfit #OhHonestlyErinProblems) but I’m so glad he’s mine. AND NOT HENRY’S.

J/K. But he totally likes me better.

Now there are two people in the house whining about how they can’t wait for the next Warped Tour. And Henry is thrilled.