Category Archives: Guest Posts

K-Pants’s Halloween Scare Fest, Part 1

K-Pants has been churning out books at the speed of Mercedes Lackey. It’s hard to keep paper stocked and chubby pencils sharpened. I’m pretty stoked because last year I was like, “Literacy may not be his thang.”

There are two Halloween titles in his library. Today we bring you the first:


Halloween by K-Pants. MomsicleBlog

A mysterious guy gets pulled apart by happy guys. Or so you think…

Halloween by K-Pants. MomsicleBlog

“Was it was Halloween so the pumpkins went trick-or-treating.” (Was it was the best of times. Was it was the worst of times.)

Halloween by K-Pants. MomsicleBlog

“And then the pumpkins saw a ghost and the pumpkins dropped their candies and they were so sad.” (Note the droopy stems of sadness.)

Halloween by K-Pants. MomsicleBlog

“But the pumpkins got their candies back.” (Wahooo!!! Viagra pumpkin stems.)

Halloween by K-Pants. MomsicleBlog

“And the pumpkins ate six million candies and they wanted more.”

Halloween by K-Pants. MomsicleBlog

“And the pumpkins got trick-or-treating but after the pumpkins got back they didn’t have any candy and they didn’t want any candy.” (Probably because they ate six million candies.)

Halloween by K-Pants. MomsicleBlog

“The end” (A collaborative page with my sister Chloë.)



The Eevol Skelatin by K-Pants. MomsicleBlog

Yes, that is a jedi taking his lightsaber to the groin of the eevol skeleton. But I don’t want to give away too much…

Santa’s Excellent Return Policy (Guest Post by David Ozab)

David Ozab is a Eugene, Oregon, freelance writer; and his blog is one of the few I keep up with during these busy holiday months. David introduced me to the hilarious Glove and Boots video blog posts, and his spoof on tiger moms was recently published in Australia’s Mother & Baby magazine.

David’s writing has a knack for capturing the subtle soul of everyday life. You’ll enjoy reading about his daughter Anna and her diagnosis of childhood apraxia of speech here. But in the meantime, I’m happy to welcome David to Momsicle to give us some holiday cheer.

Santa’s Excellent Return Policy

Anna, photo copyright Julia Ozab 2011

“It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!”

Anna’s excited voice woke us both up. She stood at our bedroom door, grinning and jumping up and down with excitement, her long brown hair half in her face.

“Time to get up! It’s Christmas!”

Normally, we need to go in her room and wake her each morning, but Christmas is the one day that a five-year-old is guaranteed to be up before anyone.

“We’re coming, Anna,” my wife Julia said as she sat up and gave me a nudge. “You’re coming too.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay.”

I staggered out of bed—I’ve never been a morning person—and headed straight for the coffee pot that I programmed the night before. Anna beat both of us to the kitchen and caught sight of the empty plate and glass on the counter.

“Santa came! Santa came!”

“Sure looks like it,” Julia said.

“He ate the cookies and drank the milk, and the carrot for the reindeer is gone too!”

I took a sip of coffee. “So what did he bring you, Anna?”

She ran excitedly into the living room, skidding to a sudden stop as she saw the pile of wrapped presents that weren’t there when she went to bed last night.


“Let me get my video camera,” I said, “and you can start unwrapping.”

“Hurry, Dad! I want to see what Santa brought.”

“I’m sure he got you everything you asked for,” Julia added.

Julia helps Anna with her list each year. In the past, she wrote down what Anna wanted, but this year Anna wanted to make her own list. Not quite ready to write yet, she cut pictures out of a toy catalogue and glued them to a sheet of purple paper—Anna’s favorite color.

She picked out four pictures on her list: a toddler Tiana doll, a set of fairies, an electronic toy dog named Cookie, and a new Curious George video. Underneath the pictures, Julia wrote down some other gift ideas:

I like princesses.
I like fairies.
I like Pumba from The Lion King.
Surprise me!

Then, a couple of weeks before Christmas, we visited Santa at our local mall. Anna waited patiently in line until it was her turn to sit in his lap. She’s never been shy.

“Hi Santa, I’m Anna.”

“Hello, Anna.” Santa said.

“Here’s my list.”

“Ah, right down to business. Have you been a good girl this year?”

“Of course.”

“Mostly,” I said under my breath. Julia smiled.

“And you made this list yourself?” Santa asked. “You’re very talented.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And very humble,” I added.

Santa chuckled. “Well, I think you’ve been a very good girl this year. Can I keep this?”

“Do you mind if we scan a copy?” Julia asked. “So we can keep the original.”

“Of course, just give it to my elf and she’ll take care of it. You did such a nice job on this list. It’s definitely worth keeping.”

Before she climbed down, she gave Santa a kiss on the cheek.

“Love you, Santa.”

“I love you too, Anna.”

Santa brought her everything she asked for. Just like he said he would. The four gifts on her list, plus a flying Tinkerbell, a set of princess lip glosses, and a talking, burping, and farting Pumba.

She tilted his tail. PFFFRRT!!!

She laughed uproariously, and tilted his tail again. PFFFRRRRT!!!

“How long until that gets annoying?” I wondered aloud.

“Gets?” Julia asked.

It was a magical morning. Anna loved all her gifts. But there was one problem. Cookie—the toy dog—didn’t work. Would Christmas be ruined?


Because, as I explained to Anna, “Santa Claus has an excellent return policy.”

“First stop,” Julia said. “Santa’s webpage.”

“Santa has a webpage?” Anna asked.

Everyone has a webpage.” Julia replied as she sat at her computer desk and started typing.

“The elves do almost everything on computer now.” I added. “Remember how we scanned your list?”

“Oh yeah!” Anna answered.

“Well now we have a receipt.” Julia said, turning to take it off the printer. “This one’s for our local Toys R Us so we can trade in our Cookie there for a new one.”

Anna pouted “What happens to the old Cookie?” she asked. “Will she be okay?”

“Oh they’ll fix her,” Julia said.

“You remember the Island of Misfit Toys?” I asked. We’d watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer a few days earlier. “Well that is Santa’s repair shop now.”

“Really?” Anna climbed up on my lap, fascinated.

“Really. The elves don’t make as many toys as they used to since kids mostly want stuff they see in stores. Instead, they spend most of the time on a special computer network that connects Santa to toy manufacturers all over the world. It’s more efficient, but the workmanship isn’t as good as it used to be so the toys break more often.”

“Oh no!” Anna said.

“But the elves are still handy enough to fix them,” I added.

Julia slipped out of the room smiling. She knew I had the situation under control.

“That sounds like hard work,” Anna said.

“It is,” I said. “But the elves are union so they get paid well. Plus excellent benefits.”

“Benefits?” Anna asked.

“Like dental.” I replied. “You remember Hermie the elf?”

“Yeah. He’s a dentist!” Anna said.

“That’s right.” I said. “They get a nice salary, a month off in the spring, and a visit from Hermie to check their teeth every six months.”

“To make sure they brush and floss!” Anna added.

So on the day after Christmas, we took our old Cookie to the local Toys R Us, but they were sold out. She was a very popular dog that year. Next, we called around. It took about a week, but Santa finally tracked one down for us in a store about a hundred miles or so away. Julia made sure that the elves checked her out before they shipped her to us. We didn’t want another defective one.

The new Cookie arrived one weekday afternoon in early January, while Anna was in her kindergarten class. I freed Cookie from her packaging—not an easy feat—and tried her out. She barked, she wagged her tail, she turned her head, and she begged for her toy. Perfect. I set her on Anna’s bed before I drove over to her school to pick her up.

I didn’t say a word the whole drive home.

She walked into the house, dropped off her backpack, and headed straight for her room.

“It’s Cookie! She’s here!”

“See I told you we’d get a new one,” I said as I walked into the room behind her.

“Did Santa bring him?” She asked.

“No, it was a delivery guy.”

“Do you think he was an elf?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But he did have pointed ears.”

Taking Your Kids to the Nudist Beach on Sauvie Island

K-Pants has a pal we call Luke. You may remember Luke from his enormous, camouflaged brain. Or you may not.

Anyhow, Luke’s mother has a sardonic sense of humor, which I love. After finding out about a recent beach trip where their crew ended up hanging out at a local nudist beach, I asked her let me share the story.

Exposing Your Kids to Sauvie Island (by brita)

Sauvie Island Nudist Beach Guest Post. Momsicle Blog

[Editor’s note: This is Irna, Luke’s sister. She’s very into fashion. I thought you should meet her. Okay, on to the story….]

You can really see a lot of Portland on display if you visit Sauvie Island. Particularly if you inadvertently end up at the clothing-optional beach.

I followed a friend’s recommendation and since the clothing-optional and clothing-required beaches are adjacent to one another, it’s easy to land in the wrong spot.

In our defense, I’ll say that when we got there it was overcast, windy and everyone there was fully clothed.

Of the many things I’ve learned about public nudity, the first is that it is an activity people ease into. Secondly, nude beaches seem to appeal exclusively to men over fifty. Thirdly, it involves a lot of standing around, presumably to 
avoid sand entrapment in unfortunate places (but given that the problem 
could be remedied with a bathing suit, I can only guess the purpose of
 standing is to obtain the full effect of the resulting exhibition).

The kids didn’t much notice, although Irna (our own resident nudist) 
would occasionally look up from her work, laugh–and say, “Naked.”

Sauvie Island Nudist Beach Guest Post. MomsicleBlog

I think
 it actually was a great beach, but I spent most of my time politely averting
 my eyes.

By the end of our outing, the clouds had burned off, and the sun was 
out, and suddenly, we were outflanked by… flanks.

We packed up our
 gear, the kids bringing half of the beach’s sand with them, and
started for the car.  As we left, some of the more inhibited patrons 
began dropping trou–probably having spent the last two hours wondering 
why we were there and what social convention dictated when a fully clothed family takes over your nudist beach.

Sauvie Island Nudist Beach Guest Post. MomsicleBlog

I asked Irna at bedtime what her favorite part of the day was and she
 mimicked a “thinking about it” face, complete with, “hmm” expressions.

It’s adorable, you should see it.

Anyway, she gave a three word
 reply, “Park.  Naked. Grandpa.”

So, yeah.  We’ll be more careful where we set up shop next time.


A note on Irna’s name:

The online pseudonym for my daughter came to me in a dream following
 Evelyn’s invitation to post on her blog.  My dream self was very 
insistent that the spelling was I-r-n-a and pronounced “Eirene,” like a
 character in the HBO series Rome (and according to Google, the Greek 
goddess of peace). This proves that, at least in my specific case, the 
subconscious mind is neither imbued with any particular wisdom nor is 
it a super great speller.

Ain’t No Such Thing as a Free Boat Ride

I recently received the “dispatch from the field” below via email.

I love getting stories like this, because they usually arrive just when I need a pick-me-up. Like right after receiving a note from the bank saying, “We’re sorry. At this time we can’t take the PMI off your loan because we reviewed your last five years of Netflix records and there were not enough action movies in your viewing history.” Or some other stupid excuse that proves they will never, ever do what I’m asking. (I wrote more about my bank paperwork depression here.)

So…. If you need a pick-me-up, or a show of solidarity in parenting chaos, read this from my friend M:

Hello, Evelyn, my dear,

As a fellow momma of small boys, I thought you would find this funny. We went on vacation to San Diego last week. Our hotel stay included a boat ride on a Mississippi sternwheeler. Makes sense. San Diego = Mark Twain. Or something.

Cam loves all forms of transportation, so we were excited about this. Only we boarded the boat and noticed large, toddler-sized gaps in the railings on the lower deck. We pictured him pitching himself off into the bay.

It was scary.

Toddler Eating Sternwheeler. MomsicleBlog

We tried to find an isolated part of the boat where we could cordon him off for safety, but this got tough because once we were on the boat, Cam became extremely excited and wouldn’t stop running around while screaming “ME ON A BOAT!!!!”

Photo is attached. I believe I captured total psychosis setting in.

Toddler Psychosis Setting In. MomsicleBlog

Longest 90 minutes of our lives. Beware the phrase FREE BOAT RIDE. Ain’t no such thing.




Please send me your own dispatches (momsicleblog [at] I love them.

Oh yeah, and have you liked Momsicle on Facebook? I make a face like the picture above every time there’s a new like.