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Halloween Heartbreak

Last night was Halloween, and all the crazies came out to play.  And by crazies, I mean my family. First let me say, I had no idea there were so many kids in this neighborhood.  It looked like a Wiggles concert headlined by Justin Bieber.  Droves of chilluns, everywhere.  Which was awesome to see because I was under the impression our neighborhood was filled with retirees and squatter whinos.  But perhaps that's just because it's hard to see out the windows when your blinds are always shut.  In other words, I assume because I am kind of both.  Whino for sure.  Retired; at least according to my bank account. 

So on the plus side, normal families "just like mine" surround us.  The bad part is, this really makes our impending move that much more difficult to accept. We've been living in this house for 1 year, and have been trying to sell it with renters in it for 2 1/2 years.  Finally, we decided screw it... the only way to unload this thing is to kick out the free-basers and move in, clean it up and hope for a miracle.  So we've spent the last year painting and decorating, cleaning and plastering. We listed it on a Thursday and had an accepted offer on Monday.  Holy Bat Balls Spider Man!  Was not expecting that to happen so fast.  So now we're moving. Which is good because my husband has a 3 hour commute everyday.  And I really can't wait to get back to a place that resembles Suburban-Strip Mall-land  as opposed to Hillfolk Heaven.  So, yeah... time to shove off.  But now I feel rotten about it.

Coupled with our neighborhood not being as ghetto as I thought, Silly Monkey has a best friend.  Like 'the best friend you ever had in your life' best friend.  They are two peas in a pod, peanut butter and jelly, rum and coke.  They are just meant to be.  And it's really the only friend my monkey has ever really had.  And now I am going to break them up. And it's gonna be baaad.  Bad like when Princess Di and Charles broke up.  Like when that crazy-ass Tom Cruise and Nicole broke-up (before we knew Tom was a loon).  Like Kim Kardashian and that Kris guy.  We're talking epic.  Mr. Martini and I are all forclempt about it. 

So of course, in my uber-sensitive way, as I'm telling Mr. Martini about all the antics that went on during Trick or Treat (he of course missed it because he was driving from work, i.e. Timbuktu), I get all syrupy about the impending heartbreak.  Which leads to guilt, fear, and sheer panic.  What if this scars him for life?  What if he never recovers?  He'll walk in his new school, and everyone will know everyone, and every one will know the routine and he'll be all alone.  OMG!!!  What are we doing?  We can afford the $400 in gas every month, right?  We can just bunk all 3 kids together in their tiny little room when the next one gets here, right?  We can teach our kids to hold their breath as a precautionary measure when we take our weekly outing to the highest-class store in town, Walmart, right?  We can make this Hillbilly Hell work for us.  We can do it.

However, I have dreams of my boys playing hockey, or football, or jousting.  The FFA is not on my priority list.  I'm from a city.  My husband was born and raised in LA for Pete's sake.  Learning to hog-tie is something they should learn in the privacy of their frat house, not in actual school.  We gotta go.

But I'm dying inside.  And Silly Monkey #2's mom and I have discussed how we'll get them together as often as possible for sleepovers and such, but I know that won't last.  Two, three times at most.  And then what?  Will Silly Monkey just get over his first friend and move on?  Ugh. This sucks.

Anyone else out there have to go through this torture? How did you deal?  How did your kids deal?  Should we give him a new toy everyday for the next three months?  Get a therapist?  Help!!

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