Off to the Big Apple...

Well the Cheese Factory is off to New York City to celebrate all things Thanksgiving-y. Some tips before we go.

1. Wear baggy pants from Thursday on. Diet can start on Monday, or you can forgo it and just wait until January 2.

2. Grab two pieces of pumpkin pie when it comes to dessert and go heavy on the whipped cream. Even if you don't eat it right away, put it away for safe keeping. If you don't take advantage, when you go back for a second piece 2 hours after your food finally settles, you may be SOL.

3. Try to go outside and watch a football game. Don't play just watch as you will be too full to actually play. If you move your arms and cheer you can burn some calories.

4. Oh, and make sure to point out the "real" Santa to your kids, he will be the one at the end of the Macy's Day Parade. And when he winks at you, you say out loud, oh that's right I forgot I have his cell number.

5. Be Thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

With warm stuffing regards,

TaraB

Monday Madness...It's getting a little crazy up in here.

Did you see AMAs last night? Lady Gaga what, what the hell was that? I mean who came up with that whole costume scenario? I would have liked to be a fly on that wall:

Lady Gaga: "OK, here is my vision, for the AMA's, I want to dress like a shrimp, but a pretty shrimp. You know like one of those florescent shrimp that sit on the bottom of the ocean and never see the sunlight so they create their own light."

Agent: "Oh yes, that is a great idea Gaga. I so totally see where you are going with this. You can be angry because you live in the sunless depths of the ocean."

Lady Gaga: "Yes, and because I am so angry I will light my piano on fire and put myself in a box where I can inhale all the smoke fumes. And I can crush liquor bottles on my keyboards. Because I am a pissed off shrimp...


And then there is Rihanna, was that really a song or was she just making up words? She too seemed a little angry. Maybe I am too old to "get it." Don't get me wrong I am definitely on Team Rihanna when it comes to her and her smuck of a boyfriend/beater Chris Brown. But I felt like my kids probably feel when they see me smudging lotion all over myself after getting out of the shower. Both perturbed and confused, but it smells so good so they for a while. And WTF was she wearing? Or more importantly where were her boobs?


Oh, and Houston we are clear for lift off. Whitney, you crazy crack ho, you done good. Finally.

Other ramblings...

Technology...Oh, I have tried to get my Twitter on...check me out, let's chat.

Weather...It is snowing AGAIN, didn't mention that in the forecast. Good thing I cancelled all of my plans today.

Amazing fact...The Big Cheese did eleven loads of laundry yesterday, no shit EL-LE- VEN. And for this moment, right now, every piece of clothing, every towel, washcloth, Halloween costume, pillow case and sheet in my house is CLEAN. With the exception of four pairs of underwear and 3 sets of Pajamas (which we are wearing as I type this at noon on a Monday). Oh and I can't help that every time I walk by the laundry hamper and see it sitting there empty, I dance a little jig (well it's actually a mixture of a skip and a cross body lead).

Life: I would like to try Pole dancing...

Travel: Three days until the Griswolds the Cheese Factory takes Manhattan by storm for the Macy's Day Parade. And I SO hope it plays out like I have imagined it in my head for the past 30+ years. Only I have to now add two kids in tow, grandparents, fifteen extended family members, peppermint scnapps to help deal with all the extra family members and only one set of binoculars for seventeen people...let the games begin.

Photos: Do you think it is unrealistic to think that Matt Lauer will have any time for a photo with my family? Because I am counting on that photo to be on my 2009 Christmas Card. It may go something like this...

"Hey Matt, woo hoo, over here. Listen I'll give you twenty bucks (twenty ones rolled tightly) if you just look over here for one minute. Hey Matt, I-AM-TALKING- TO-YOU...you better get your ass over here. Yelling a little louder...Hey, Mr. Clean, I flew over 1600 freakin miles to take my Christmas photo with you. Not with Al but with you, you pompous ass. Now screaming...I will photoshop you in there anyway it is in your best interest to mug for the camera, come over here!"

"OK, Mac go stand there and Cheese go over there. Oh, wait my eyes were closed, lets try that again. Oh, shoot, Mac wasn't looking at the camera, let's try one more time."

Hey Matt where are you going? Don't leave, we have just a few more to shoot.

Writer's Workshop...A Page from My Diary

What a adorable coincidence...so late last night I stumbled over to Mama's Losing It , as that is about the time of night that I finally take a lap around the "blog block". And I was so glad to see her weekly writing prompt:

4.)Share a diary entry from when you were 13...feel free to make one up!

I say this is a coincidence because my girls just unearthed my 6th grade diary a couple of weeks ago. I was just twelve but who's counting. I still have no idea how they found it because when you move as often as we do, the chances of finding anything outside our standard fifty boxes is like finding a cavity in the molar of Jane, the Tyrannosaurs Rex. So imagine my surprise when they found my diary from 1983, the only diary I think I ever kept, a rare fossil to be sure. I should send them down again to the bowels of the basement to find my pasta maker, circa 1996.

On a side note, I can't tell you how relieved I was that they found that box, because if they would have found any of the boxes from the late eighties/early nineties...Lucy would have some serious splaining to do if you catch my "middrift". "Mommy why did you have a beer in your hand and your were only in high school?" No honey, that's not beer it's Busch Light soda...

For your enjoyment or misery...

January 1,1983 (as you can see it was a Christmas Gift)
Hi, this is Tara your owner, don't worry about me I've had a diary before I know how to use you. I am praying to keep you up to date, let's make this a great 365 days. Love ya!

January 2, 1983
Hi, Today nothing happened except bro caught a turtle. Nana and Pop-Pop left (all they do is watch TV). Well nothing else to say. Love ya!

January 3,1983
Today we started school, I didn't dress out for PE and man did I have a hard time climbing up those bleachers. By the way, I totally love John W, he kinda likes me, I think, I hope. Gotta go. Love ya!

January 4,1983
Today was fun, first John was nice to me and talked to me a lot. He started eyeing me and I pretended that I didn't see him. We danced in P.E. today, I am glad I dressed out because Doug R was also really nice to me. I think I like him too.

January 5, 1983
Guess who I am going with, Doug R. When he asked me Carson was like, "you are making a big mistake" and she keeps saying that. I think she is jealous.

January 6,1983
Today nothing really happened, oh except Jay was going to ask Shelley to dance in P.E. but I bet if I broke up with Doug, Jay would ask me out. Doug won't talk to me anyway, he is my stinkin dance partner and my boyfriend, can you believe it?

January 7,1983
Today I made the biggest mistake of my life. I broke up with Doug (that was so stupid). I only did it because he wouldn't talk to me. I like him more than anyone in the world. So now who am I going to dance with? Oh, and to make it worse Doug asked Sasha out. But she is using him. I am going to tell him and break them up. I love him very much. Love ya!

Jan 8,1983
Nothing happened today except I am PISSED OFF!!!!I want to go with Doug so bad it is pitiful. I am going to break them up. I can't wait.

January 9,1983
I HATE DOUG NOW, he's a jerk.

And that was it... only nine days. The last entry in the diary. We can catch a glimpse here of my issues with follow through. In retrospect, maybe stopping at day nine was a good thing. After a week like that...reading an entire year would be exhausting.

Have you passed by your passion...?

I hit the stores early this morning. And as I left the Supercenter, coasting about 5mph on the industrial size shopping cart into the parking lot and gaining speed, I notice briefly the red and black checkered shirt of the "Pro-Life Man" sitting at his four foot table on the sidewalk right outside the automatic doors. I have seen him there a couple of times, in his late sixties, wearing a black ball cap and holding a clipboard. Silently he sits solicits signatures from people popping into the store to grab some toothpaste or a turkey for his Pro-Life petition.

I admit, at first I am little perturbed. Seeing him there again has forced me to contemplate things that and I could have gone the entire day without considering. I had just put on my rose colored sunglasses for goodness sake, the sun was out and I was on my way home to enjoy my second cup of coffee and maybe throw in a load of laundry...thinking about the rights of women and of unborn children was not on my agenda this morning. How dare he scratch my lenses.

But as I unloaded my things into the trunk of my minivan, I began to think less about whether or not I agreed with his homemade poster board and it's contents. But more about this man and his passion to his cause. I mean that is what it has to be...passion, right? Because only passion would raise someone out of bed and move them to lay claim on the sidewalk of one of America's largest retailers armed with just a table, a chair, a petition, a pencil and the hope to change just one person's mind.

So rather than complain about the "man of awareness" and the fact that he inconvenienced me this morning with his silent advocacy, I began to wonder...what am I passionate about? I mean, if I had a four foot table and five feet of space outside of the Supercenter, what would my homemade poster board say?

What would yours say?

Out of the mouths of babes...

Cheese: "Mom does everything have a butt?"
Me: "I think so, (trying to dig down to my inner good parent core) well, I know there is a book called Everyone Poops, we'll just have to go to the library and check out that book to find out. (pat on the back)
Meanwhile the Big Cheese walks by and because he is the cheesiest he says..
"Well, honey everything has a butt hole, that's for sure."
(proud parenting moment--OVER)

While enjoying a beer and on a Tuesday night, (I just felt like it OK?)
Cheese walks over and says, "Mom you have to drink every time someone cries on Biggest Loser."

A Wal-Mart Story
So I wouldn't buy Cheese (my 6 year old) those peanut butter and jelly premade sandwiches, you know the ones in the frozen aisle, they also come in grilled cheese flavor. Last year I did pack her a lunch, but this year she eats at home with me. She even tried pulling the whole, but I don't like crust, whatever kid, I will cut that off and still save $3.59, plus mamma sees a Miley Cyrus shirt she wants to buy.
So as a result of that discussion she spent the rest of the shopping trip sobbing and dangling off the end of the shopping cart screaming at the top of her lungs, "You hate me, why do you hate me?"

While laying in bed on a lazy Sunday morning I say to Cheese: "Hey Cheese, you know what, we almost named you Belle."
Mac then says to Cheese, "Yeah, but you are not pretty enough to be called Belle."


Cheese: "Mom I wish you were like other mommies, and didn't have to work, but you still had money to buy me stuff."

Cheese: "Mom is Africa a city?"
Me: "No honey it is a continent?"
Cheese: "You mean like a vowel."
Me: "No that's a consonant."

Don't eat yellow snow...

It's snowing...again. And the only reason I am happy about it is because it happens to be Sunday. For most of the day I have managed to stay in my velour sweats (I did venture briefly outside to take this picture of Cheese eating her homemade snowcone) but for the most part, I have admired the white layer of chaos descended from above, from my living room couch. And I am OK with that, in fact I am better than OK with that, barring a neighborhood explosion or a 50% off sale at Nordstrom's I wouldn't drive anywhere today if you made me.

Here is the thing, some people are afraid of spiders, some of heights, others of bees. We're friends right? I will let you in on my secret fear. I am afraid of SNOW. And I DO realize that is probably the most ridiculous thing you have heard today. Unless you have been by Yahoo and saw their latest an ad for GO GIRl, a bright pink pee cone, which allows "active" women to stand to go pee.

Believe me, I understand, for many people the mere thought of snow conjures up comfort and joy and gumdrops and wintery wonderlands made up of candy canes and freakin talking snowmen, snow days, skiing, hot cocoa, kids laughter, Christmas, snow forts and marshmallow dreams...yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. Not for me, I see snow and the morning after ice and if I realize that I have to travel in it I throw up a little in my mouth.

And now living in Colorado and already into our third snowfall this winter, I realize that I am pretty much pooched and I will have to come up with a Plan B, either that or a very large bucket and some stain remover. So thinking aloud, let's see: B is for brave, or boldness or maybe a bike or a bigger car, or a boy to drive me around, or I can just suck it up and put on my big girl waterproof panties and deal with it. No, wait that's it. I will find a driver to drive me around when it snows, I mean how much could that really cost, I have a maid why not a driver? And plus, it has got to be less than what it would cost me to go to a shrink which is another option that I have truly considered. Unfortunately I can't seem to find a psychologist that specializes in inclement weather issues, is there such a thing? Because I don't think my issue with snow is something that a general psychologist could treat. It's not like my fear of snow was brought about by a childhood trauma. I mean I wasn't left outside as a kid and had to survive by sucking on icicles and frozen twigs. I just don't like snow, that's it, cut and dry, or cold and wet however you want to look at it.

Whew, so glad I got that off my chest.

Channeling my inner creativeness...

I am so bored these days. Don't get me wrong I am not the sitting around eating Dibs Ice Cream Nuggets watching the history channel kind of bored. But more of the, have mundane tasks to do with my eyes clothes kind of bored. Without the odd challenge of folding a bed sheet to keep me entertained, life lately is plain vanilla ice cream, no cone, just a cup, and someone ate off the whimsical curly top.

Let's not mistake bored with nothing to do...because I have plenty TO DO. I would list them here in all their infamous glory, but if you think of YOUR laundry list and the things that YOU need to do then I am sure my list closely resembles yours. But I will see your list and raise it a stack of TIME Magazines that I haven't read. Kept in the bathroom to "kill the time", but obviously I haven't been eating enough fiber because I am still four weeks behind. Ha, get it b-e-h-i-nd. Oh, and there is also the photo collage that I wanted to make from our July 4th trip to Boston. I figure the statue of limitations runs out no later than July 3rd next year so I have some time there. And if I really want to dive deep there is the ever nagging wreath around my neck of Christmas cards to be photographed, ordered and addressed...

So what's a girl to do, assuming she has some "free time", or I mean time spent doing fun exciting and creative things not required, have to do, boring things? Any suggestions? (And don't tell me to go outside and run around the block, I don't wanna).

Crafts are always an option, as I am always looking for something new to create. For instance last week it was the ever trendy "bib necklace." Seventy two hours later I have three homemade bib necklaces (one purchased off of ebay) and absolutely no place to wear them. Well I guess I could wear to school to pick up the girls (since that is the only place I go) but I am not sure if it would be the best choice to accent to my flannel shirt, jeans and boots.

The week before last, I was on a quest to find a faux fur vest. After shopping online for what seemed like hours, I decided instead of buying one (a lofty investment for a trend that I knew would pass and I would be stuck with a $100 faux fox vest worn once), I would make a vest. With no pattern and 2 years of acrylic black fur, I set off for my task. I mean seriously how hard could it be, a rectangle with a hole right? Those of you who sew, you can now pick your jaw off the floor, you are right, it was horrendous. I looked like Barney Rubble, after sleeping in the yard because Betty kicked him out when she found him cheating on her with the waitress at the drive thru. I even tried it on for some dinner guests and had to pick them off the floor they were laughing so hard and after they left I had to clean the pee stains out of the carpet because they wet themselves too. So mission aborted...well almost. The following day I did find a Jordache faux fur jacket at the Salvation Army for pennies, well dollars, and I cut off the sleeves and will soon be rocking out my 80s glam faux fur Jordache vest. Maybe I will wear it with my new bib necklace, but first I need to be invited somewhere. In any case, JLo better watch her back.

I guess I could always revert to the old standby, and drink myself into creativeness. Because everything is more interesting after a couple of glasses of wine. In fact, I have come up with some of my best ideas under a beer soaked buzz. Don't believe me? Go into my basement, and you will find crates of ebay clothes lots, fabric, beads, furs, bottle caps, felts, cigar boxes and of course a horrendous black fur vest. Oh and you will probably find the first draft of a letter asking Cher if I could be the President of her Fan Club. Now that was a good idea...at the time. I think I came up with that one after downing a couple of bottles of wine at my favoriate wine bar...I mean seriously why can't I?

My Little Monsters...

So I am playing along...with SevEn cLoWn CirCuS,and her Wordful Wednesday. The idea is to post a photo and whatever comes to mind.
So here it goes:

Little Monsters

I have these two little monsters, actually vampires, you see.
They make me quite crazy, as they slowly suck the life out of me.
During the day when they're gone, ahhh, all is quiet and quite peaceful.
But wait there is no laughing, no hugs, is my day just not as cheerful?
Holy cow, I miss those silly little creatures, tiny hands and big hearts.
And their riduculous questions, like "hey mom, do all people fart?"
I do need them, my Monsters, I mean my blood suckers, it is the truth.
Because I would trade all the quiet in the world for one more day of their youth.

What you won't likely see or hear on a Hasbro Family Game Night Commercial...

We have once again started family game night here at the Cheese Factory. Several attempts have been made in the past, but unfortunately like everything we do, we start off with a bang and end with a smoldering, and sometimes annoying, cloud of dust. In all reality, life takes over and 45 days into our "quest" to spend time together, we start to trip over lost game pieces embedded into the carpet left over like dinosaur fossils of game nights past.

As an example, last year after we bought our Wii, Friday nights became our game night. Moving helped as our social life had come to a screeching halt, so we instead spent our evenings virtual bowling or playing Cadoo and eating DIY homemade pizzas and steamed artichokes. You are thinking to yourself, "wow, that's odd, why would she mention artichokes?" "Or maybe even, your kids eat artichokes?" Well, I mention artichokes because they have now become our game night mascot, kids love them and every time we mention playing a game, Cheese will say "can we get an artichoke?" And yes, my kids will eat just about anything. This has great bragging rights only until we take them out to dinner and they get all high and mighty over the processed chicken nuggets, again. It's like that minced fish commercial. They are like, "mom, these probably aren't even made of real chicken, I would like a steak, can I get a filet like you? And I am all like, "well you too could afford a filet if you didn't squander your birthday money on a light up yo-yo and those two tubes of cherry shimmer chapstick you had to have from the Wal-Mart impulse lane. You know just because you see me spend money frivolously doesn't mean that you have to also. Now where did I put my travel size antibacterial lotion and my three pack of Slim Jim's?"

OK so I don't make my kids buy their own dinners. I do keep a running IOU and I figure by the time they get out of college and start a family that money owed will buy me a nice apartment above their garage, a rainbow of velour sweat outfits and a convertible BMW.

So back to game night, November 7,2009. Game of they night: Monopoly. Yes, I realize that Cheese is only six and Mac is just nine years old. But I was backed into a corner. I would have SO grabbed PAY DAY, but it wasn't an option. The truth of the matter is I didn't feel like gouging my eyes out with mini fishing rods, which I would have done if forced to play Fishin' Around with the kids, even though it was age appropriate. I would have gone with the creepy no face dude Pictionary game, but it was $31.97 and therefore a little more than I wanted to spend. Well actually a lot more than I wanted to spend because I still had to buy dinner and a couple of artichokes (see it all comes around). It was a mutual agreement in the end, with a little nudge in the right direction. Well more or less bribery, one with ice cream and the other with a drawing pad. I also picked up a lint brush and some 8 Hour Energy minis.

Some highlights:

Cheese landed herself in jail so Mac sold her her Get Out of Jail Free card for $686.00, or "one of each color of money". Cheese didn't care, she just wanted out and we didn't have the heart to tell her she made a horrible deal.

Mac on the other hand, kept counting her money over and over, rubbing it through her fingers. She was also the banker so I am not sure how many $100s slipped from the bank to her neatly manicured piles.

Cheese, kept stacking the dice, she really wanted to roll a six. Not sure why, so it will have to go into my mental book of strange things kids do for no particular reason.

She also kept saying "wow so many avenues, everything is an avenue."

Speaking of avenues instead of Virgina Avenue, The Big Cheese kept calling it Vagina Avenue, while chuckling quietly to himself.

Family fun time at it's best!

Some Things I Know for Sure...

I know that...

I will spent every morning over the next 10 years brushing someone else' hair and someone will cry. And I know I will say out loud each morning, "this would not hurt near as much if you took the time to brush your OWN HAIR".

I will recommend someone going to dreads at least 50 times within those next 10 years, against my better judgement.

I will have to flush someone else's pee at least once each day for the rest of my life.

I will be scraping dried cereal out of the bottom of the sink until my children leave for college.

I will always look in the mirror first thing in the morning, suck in my gut and smile. And then I will let it go and roll my eyes.

I will always dream in color.

I will never learn how to fold bottom sheets correctly.

I will always leave out or substitute one ingredient when following a recipe.

I will never go to bed without washing my face first.

I will always stop in the shoe section when walking through a department store, any department store.

I will always sing out loud in the car and the shower.

And finally, I know that while I may not be really great at any one thing. I am marginal at a lot of things.

100% Irony Free

Have you ever used StumbleUpon.com?

If you like to spend your free time on the computer.. waait free time, what is that exactly? Oh yes I remember, the last time I actually had "free time" I was in college. In between the hours of 10am and 10pm, that was free time. It was the time that I should have been attending class or studying in the library. Instead I spent my days nursing hangovers with a pen and a pad trying to put together the missing pieces of the night before. Searching for answers to more important questions like how did my pants legs get covered in mud? Where did my bra go? Where did my car go? And whose puke is this in my hair? Ahhh, good times, college...

OK so where was I...free time.

Well if you have ANY and you like to spend it AWAY from the computer doing something more constructive, than walk away from the light and do not Stumble over to StumbleUpon dot com. However, if you are like me and have transformed your once magazine addiction to now an internet addiction than come on in, the light is warm, and don't worry, I have sat on the scary little lady from Poltergeist, she won't bother you any more.

It was through StumbleUpon that I stumbled on a great site-- a site listing hundreds of BumperStickers. I know, how cool is that? I am so tempted to go out any buy some printable car magnets, so I can share these great quotes with the WORLD. But I wont' because I am still trying to make friends and if I drive around with a sticker that says "Kids in the backseat cause accidents.... accidents in the backseat cause kids." It may not be sending the right message.

It was here on this website that an unfortunate accident happened and I singed all of my nasal hairs when coffee unexpectidly gushed through my nose like a mating whale's blow hole, because this is some funny stuff. So I thought that I would share my happy yet uncomfortable moment with you.

OK, you want to know the real truth? Truth is, I just committed to NaNoWriMo 2009, which is a challenge to write a novel in a month of over 50,000 words...and after writing into the wee hours of the night last night, my creativity is pretty much sapped. So today we can all enjoy someone else's cleverness. Check these out...

A bartender is just a pharmacist with a limited inventory.

Just plead the Fifth -- or drink it -- either way.

All stressed out and nobody to choke!

Ass, gas or grass, nobody rides for free.

Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder...

BOMB SQUAD: If you see me running you better catch up!

Children are like farts: your own are just about tolerable but everyone else's are horrendous.

Could You Drive Any Better If I Shoved That Cell Phone Up Your Ass?

It's lonely at the top, but you eat better.

And my favorite..

I break for........................OH SHIT NO BRAKES

Only in America...

You can tell a lot about a child if you watch them go through their Halloween candy. Some are impulsive and they just dump it on the floor and start pumping it right into their mouths. Some are more methodological and tend to group by texture; chocolate here, chocolate with nuts there, Smarties over there, etc. Me, well I was just greedy, I would first separate into like piles and count them incase anyone thought of sneaking a piece. Later I would create separate "trading" piles for those candies that I just didn't care for...Mounds and Almond Joy come to mind. I would then dupe my little brother into making unfair trades. "Hey bro" I'll trade you these TWO Bit O'Honey's for your stale full size Snicker bar." And like a hobo to a hot dog he would take the deal. Fortunately, he was more of a quantity than quality kind of kid.

So last night after the dust had settled and the kids pumped and dumped, traded and discarded, and of course, left all of their wrappers in the middle of the living room, I was making my last pass through. OK I admit, I was scouring the heap for any remaining Twix bars that I may have previously overlooked. Heading into the corner of room and I what do I see but bright orange bag of "Halloween Pretzels" staring up at me. Poor things were tossed aside like a 7th grade boyfriend. It was obvious they did not stand a chance against the likes of the sour War Heads, Milky Ways or even the less preferred Tootsie Rolls. So I bent down to pick them up and OUCH! something cut my finger. Don't panic it wasn't a razor blade, although that would be a great story. If that happened I would so immediately go out and buy a monocle, a deerhat and a small flashlight and hunt the neighborhood for the sicko. Instead imagine my disappointment when I realized that I had been sliced by a staple. A stinkin staple attached to this card:

You-have-got-to-be-kidding-me...

Disclaimer: First let me say, bankruptcy is nothing to make light of, and I completely emphasize with anyone in such a horrible situation.

That being said, even without a degree in sales and marketing, I would have been a little more inventive. I mean staple your card to a Pay Day or a 100 Grand Bar, at least you would earn a little slice of respect for making a joke. Sure your way worked you are a tricky one you little bankruptcy guru, I did find your card. But what exactly did you think would go down from here? "Hey look honey, I have been looking for someone to handle our bankruptcy, I am so glad we sent the kids out to trick or treat tonight, we can look no further. Because anyone that is crafty enough to staple their business card to a bag of pretzels and hand out to small children on Halloween, that is DEFINITELY the douche bag that I am going to trust to take care of my outstanding debt." "Oh and look, if we refer someone we can get a $10 gift card." I mean, seriously???

And I know exactly who I can refer to our Bankruptcy neighbors...the lazy ass that drove through the neighborhood at 3mph on Halloween night "alongside" her three small kids. She was "parenting" from the heated leather front seat of her giant SUV. I mean, obviously both her legs must have been broken or otherwise she would be WALKING WITH HER CHILDREN like the rest of us.

Kids, this happens only in America...