The Cravin’

LATE OCTOBER, in my kitchen: for some sugar I was itchin’
and I knew that satisfaction lay behind my pantry door.
Though I should be upstairs sleeping, here I was, downstairs, creeping
‘round my kitchen, no one peeping as I tiptoed ‘cross the floor.
Nothing stirring, just me creaking, sneaking softly ‘cross the floor
for one Kit-Kat, nothing more.

Ah, how happy and how handy to have bags of bits of candy
tucked inside each nook and cranny after purchase from the store.
Bought but not meant to be eaten, bought for kids for trick or treatin,’
bought for goblins who come knocking, trick or treating at my door.
Gobs of candy here so handy stored behind my pantry door–
Oh, those Kit-Kats I adore!

All those candies so fantastic bulging from their bags of plastic
thrilled me – filled me with a crazy craving that I’d felt before.
So that now, to satisfy it, I ignored my sweet-free diet
and let appetite run riot, scarfing Kit-Kats by the score.
I let appetite run riot, crunching Kit-Kats by the score,
till the bag had nothing more.

Still my craving grew much stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Time,” said I, “to raid my other sweet- and treat-filled reservoir.”
For the fact is when I’m craving chocolate candy I’ve been saving,
you can bet that I’ll be caving – misbehaving – that’s for sure.
So for new treats I went seeking, sneaking to a closet door:
“Just a few treats, nothing more.”

Deep into that closet peering, long I stood there perservering,
craving, raving for the chocolates that lay waiting by the score:
Kit-Kat, Krackle, even Skor bars —
Hershey’s, Twix and many more bars,
one by one, they disappeared as through the bulging bags I tore.
Milky Ways, Three Musketeers — their wrappers spilled upon the floor.
Then: just wrappers, nothing more.

Back upstairs I started heading, something deep within me dreading
what I’d have to tell my kids and those who’d knock upon my door.
What excuses would deceive ’em? Lies I’d tell, who would believe ’em?
How explain my thievin’ of the candy bought mere days before?
Then – it came! – I’d simply blame my faithful fellow candy-vore:
“‘Twas the dog! She’s poached before.

Satisfied with this solution, plotting now its execution,
up I headed to my bedroom, with a vow I firmly swore.
Next year, would this mom be buying gobs of candy and then lying
and denying my own role in its depletion yet once more?
Dare I tempt my will again with bags of chocolate bars galore?
Quoth this mother: “NEVERMORE!”

©2013 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz

CLICK the arrow to hear The Well-Versed Mom read “The Cravin.'”

©2013 CEStankiewicz all rights reserved

BLAME IT ON THE DOG.

Quick Change Artist

Last year: “The Red Queen.”

AS CHILDREN, my sister and I always had homemade Halloween costumes, so it’s no surprise that I became THAT mom. The one who goes all out to turn her kids into whatever creatures they want to become. And then posts the pics all over Facebook. Yeah, that’s me. I’ve got a glue gun and I’m not afraid to use it.

As “Edward Scissorhands,” Halloween 2009.

Of the two, my younger girl is more of a Halloween fanatic. No sooner has she said her last “Trick or treat!” and scored her final handful of Kit-Kats, than she’s already brainstorming about next year’s get-up.

As “Sally,” Halloween 2008.

We’re huge Tim Burton fans, so in the past she’s dressed up as different characters from his films: Sally the Rag Doll from The Nightmare Before Christmas; Edward from Edward Scissorhands; and The Red Queen from Alice in Wonderland.

Her dad and I are somewhat artistically inclined, so we eagerly embrace each year’s new costume challenge. Collectively, we’ve logged many a midnight hour in service of cobbling together the coolest kid costume in the neighborhood.

We typically don’t mind burning the midnight oil for these creations, although they do take a bit of planning. Which of course means that we can never expect things to go exactly as we hope – especially when we factor in the simple truth that we are, after all, making a costume for a kid.

And you know what that means…

.

Quick Change Artist

Right after Halloween last year,
she already had a plan
about her costume for THIS year,
how it’d be better than

the one she still was wearing,
so intricate and cool,
the one that prompted “Epic!” cries
from all the kids at school.

And so throughout the holidays
and in the brand new year
her costume thoughts and planning
were all that I would hear.

She talked of it past Valentine’s,
right through the end of spring;
in summer, she did research
on every little thing:

the outfit and accessories,
the make-up and the hair,
she even noted how to walk
and how to talk, I swear.

And then, when autumn finally came
and Halloween drew near,
‘twas time for me to organize
and get my act in gear.

Out came my pins and velcro,
my trusty hot glue gun;
and soon the fabrication
of her costume I’d begun.

After many nights of
cutting,
pinning,
stitching
and
glue gunning,
I proudly held that costume up
and it was…simply stunning.

So carefully I brought it
to her room for the revealing,
assuming that with pure delight
she’d soon be loudly squealing.

She met me with a smile
as she surveyed that fine creation;
Her reaction, though, I’m sad to say,
fell far short of elation.

Instead, she handed me a sketch
of a costume she’d designed:
A different one (to make tonight)
because

I’ve changed my mind.”

.

©2011 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz