Sometimes people ask if they can “gues
t blog” on my site. This mother after reading Hold On Halloween I’m Coming to Save You requested an opportunity to comment on the other side of the Halloween story. Please note the views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the “author” and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Snarky in the Suburbs. In fact Snarky thinks the author needs to relax and eat a Cinnabon.
As a gluten-free, organic, bio dynamic, carbon neutral, free trade, raw vegan with fruitarian leanings I already know you hate me and I couldn’t care less because I’m going to live longer than you, much longer. Why? Because I don’t eat the crap you do and that means I forgo using classic enabling techniques, such as I’m “celebrating a holiday or special occasion” to make excuses for shoveling a backhoe of cookie dough down my esophagus.
Let’s get this point straight October 31 is not a holiday or special occasion unless you practice the dark arts and I’m pretty sure those rituals don’t involve a 12 pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Halloween is one thing and one thing only – a sugar fueled festival of greed, gluttony and sloth. How any mother could be pro Halloween is beyond me. It’s like saying, “I hate my kids and I want them to die from early onset cardiovascular disease and complications from stage 2 Diabetes one snack size Snickers bar at a time.”
Wake up moms! By loving Halloween you are an instrument of death. I despise all of you starting with the “butter mothers.” These moms can be seen on party day joyfully hoisting a tray over burdened with devil food Halloween cupcakes that not only have a gravy ladle of icing on each one but then give the middle finger to nutrition by dipping Nutter Butter cookies in white almond bark and placing one on top of each cupcake to resemble a ghost!
Good God, why don’t you just smother the kids by placing their heads in a vat of frosting until they experience death by asphyxiation. At least the butter mothers are honest. Their curvy jeans are a testament that they eat the death they merrily foist upon our children.
The worst are the Cross Fit maniacs, the marathoners and the yoga/pilate/fitness fusion hypocrites.They bounce into the classroom on their $250 Adidas Ultra Boost sneakers doing arm curls with a plastic platter of pumpkin shaped sugar cookies, vampire brownies, and Cocoa Kripsy squares all from the Crack House of bakeries – Walmart – because their too busy romancing their body mass index to actually attempt to create anything from scratch.
While one hand is holding the non recyclable, VOC off gassing, plastic offering of sugar, partially hydrogenated oil, high fructose corn syrup solids, animal fat and sodium, the other one is clutching a half-gallon water bottle or adjusting their thong. Yet, what they cheerfully serve to children they would never swallow themselves because they don’t want to move up a size in their Spanx. They poison the most defenseless among us, our children, and abstain only due to vanity. For these mothers I harbor the heftiest scorn.
Because so many mothers are either too lazy or lacking in maternal love, that they willingly pollute our children’s bodies if not their very souls, I’ve had to step up and make the righteous, healthy choice for all of us by staging a Halloween Intervention.
My campaign is focused on the elementary school. Yes, I proudly stand before you today as the reason no more sugary based “treats” are being served at school parties. I started slowly and first used my influence to phase in having a variety of healthy food choices at the class celebrations. Then I went full frontal foodie and got chocolate banned from the school.
After those victories I redoubled my efforts and engaged in hand-to-hand combat with sugar, wheat and dairy and before you could say trick-or-treat I had rendered any sustenance that didn’t make the Harvard School of Public Health’s Top Ten Super Foods list person non gratia. Say hello to a school party featuring yummy raspberries, blueberries, brussel sprouts, broccoli, garlic and kale.
Does this list horrify you? Does it make you uncomfortable? It should because while you advocate slowly killing your kid with a smorgasbord of refined sugar and white flour I champion the likes of kale! A cup of which provides 460 percent of your daily vitamin K, 74 percent of your vitamin A and 107 percent of your vitamin C.
Go ahead and call me a kill, or if you like a kale, joy and throw around your weak excuses that it’s only one day a year, that kids need a chance to be kids or the most laughable that if you don’t let your kids have sugar every now and then they’ll binge on it as soon as your back is turned.
Yeah right, well if you use that logic then maybe we should let our children have some cocaine or heroin from time to time just to make sure they don’t one day go nose up and needle in.
My victory isn’t complete yet. I’m steadily working towards my goal of having zero food at any party and replacing the kids sitting on their asses doing lame arts and crafts (using non-sustainable crayons that I just know were not made with low impact dyes) with strenuous exercise. Why can’t Halloween or Valentine’s Day be celebrated with a jog-a-thon and a fitness obstacle course with coconut water for all? Why must every party be food related?
I know to some people I look weak and sickly like a white asparagus stalk that was boiled in water too long and yes my kids are extremely thin and so pale if you look at them in direct sunlight you can make out their central nervous system. I’ll admit they do miss a lot of school, but it’s not their fault. Their virgin immune system is constantly threatened and compromised by the onslaught of environmental filth being flung their way via the cesspool of the American lifestyle.
My profound and everlasting love for my three children is primarily why I’m staging the Halloween Intervention and just you wait next on my list is the Winter party in December. Guess what moms? I’ve convinced the principal to make it a snowflake party with an ice crystal theme. You know what that means – no food – only frozen water! I call that me W-I-N-N-I-N-G!
Snarky in the Suburbs 