Happy Halloween

BOO!!!

Hopefully this picture portrays that this year, Sugar Bear GOT Halloween. Let's just say she lived up to her name...

My Snow White and Darth Vader.

Discovery

The Four Bears set out on Friday night for our very first family tent camping adventure. (More to come later). We had to pack the car extra tight to get all of the items needed for 2 grown bears and 2 cubs to survive 2 whole days in the wilderness (read: everything but the kitchen sink, and only because it was bolted down).

So, in order to get everything tucked in the vehicle, I decided I needed to do a little light "housekeeping" in the car. And that is when I made a horrific discovery.

Let me back up a little.

The Four Bears Den doesn't travel on the road well (just read here if you need a reminder). So, Mama and Papa Bear like to waste as little time as possible while driving. And that means, no unnecessary stops. Brother Bear, on the other hand, loves unnecessary stops. Way back when he was potty training, he realized that he could get Mama and Papa Bear to stop the car immediately by simply saying, "I gotta pee!" Slowly but surely, we got wise to his little tricks and put a stop to them.

Enter, the pee cup.

Yes, you read that right. When we travel long distances I put an container with a lid in the car for the express purposes of the "urgent" tinkle. This genius idea saves us at least 30 minutes on every road trip. When we arrive at our destination, I simply empty and wash the container and return it to the car for the next time.

Or, so I thought.

When I was cleaning out the car, I noticed that one of the 45 cup holders in our car had something in it. Assuming it was something else, I grabbed it to throw it away and that is when I discovered my horrible mistake.

I know, you're already there aren't you? I can hear you groaning, and squealing, and retching. Because that's what I did.

I was holding a container of old urine. Did you know that urine can go bad? I could have gone my whole life without knowing that little nugget!

The really, really, awful part of this is: I'm not exactly sure how old that pee is.

Best case scenario: our family vacation in August.

Worst case scenario: our return trip from the Land of the Bears in July.

I. AM. MORTIFIED.

I'm thinking of having the car detailed, just in case.

Subtlety, thy name is Brother Bear!

Notes I found on my computer last evening:

(Phonetic translation of note #1 {lest you get seriously confused} "Please put my bike").

Lucky for him, I knew where he wanted me to "put bike". Because, heaven forbid, the cub put some effort into finishing his sentence instead of wasting my post-its with pleases and smiley faces!

Sadly, in full disclosure, I have forgotten to "put bike" several times, clearly causing Brother Bear to develop serious trust issues with me.

Good thing for him I buy post-it notes at Sam's. I'm saving all my money for his therapy sessions.

Dont ask, don't tell...

is normally my policy when it comes to Papa Bear and his adventures with the cubs. Because, what I don't know can't hurt me.

Let's face it. These cubs need their time with Papa Bear. If they spent all their time with me they would be freckle-less, book worms, who are afraid of germs and the dark. And that wouldn't be any fun at all, would it? Thus, they need Papa Bear to introduce a little adventure into their lives.

I know that. I understand that. I just don't want to know the details.

Exhibit A (a picture Papa Bear sent me from their adventures on Saturday):

I rest my case, Your Honor.

The moral to this story

A conversation overheard at the State Fair between a certain Mama Bear and a certain Brother Bear whilst observing what had to be the world's largest swine.

Brother Bear: (urgently, panic-ly interrupting Mama Bear and Sugar Bear's conversation about "what the big piggie is doing") Mama Bear! Mama Bear!! That pig is soooo fat, its bootie is sticking out!!

Mama Bear: (trying to get a mental picture of description and failing miserably) Huh? Uh, Brother Bear, what do you mean?

Brother Bear: (speaking in excited, almost frantic terms) Mama Bear! The pig is sooo fat, the part of the body where the poop comes out is sticking out of its bootie!!!

Mama Bear: (now officially picturing the world's largest hemorrhoid attached to the world's largest swine and becoming officially intrigued) Uh. Hmm. Brother Bear, why don't we head down to the other side of this pig and take a look at what you're talking about. (because, of course, if said piggie did have a raging case of hemorrhoids, said Mama Bear felt it was her moral obligation to call PETA.)

Brother Bear: (arriving at the "business" end of things and pointing) SEE, Mama Bear? Its bootie is coming out of its bottom!

Mama Bear: (gasping. stifling the urge to concurrently scream and laugh) Oh. Well. Um, Brother Bear, that's not the pig's bottom. Um. You see. That pig there is a boy pig. Apparently a very, very, very boy pig. And what you are seeing there is (insert very biological, very technical, very calmly, very confidently stated term for piggie's very large, ahem, accoutrements). All boys have 'em, even piggies!

Brother Bear: (making a face like he was being served spinach with a side of brussel sprouts) Oh. Ew. Well, that's just disgusting don't you think, Mama Bear?

Mama Bear: (calmly weighing her options between what she wants to say and what she knows she should say) Um, no, no, not really. That's just nature, Brother Bear! You know, God made everything and that's just the way He made that piggie.

Brother Bear: Oh. Okay. Can we go ride some rides now, Mama Bear?

Mama Bear: (exhaling for the first time in several minutes) Absolutely, Brother Bear. Absolutely!

And the moral to this humorous little tail (snicker, snicker)?

Never, ever take your kid to the State Fair.

(I told you I didn't like the fair....)

Love at first bite

So Sugar Bear is entering that fabulous stage that all Mama Bears love: potty training. (I sure wish sarcasm was visible on a blog).

Anyway. In our den, when a cub does what a cub needs to do in the proper location, ahem, a cub gets a treat. A sweet treat. A horrible-for-your-body-and-teeth reward. That's right. Feel free to judge. I'm waaaaaay past worrying about it. So, as I was saying, we give a treat: M&Ms, or as Sugar Bear calls them, "m-and-m-and-m's".

So, Sugar Bear has figured out how to manipulate the system ramped up her interest in potty training thus requiring a recent trip to the store for more treats.

And that, Cyberbears, is when I fell in love.

I had a coupon for $1 off 2 bags. I intended to buy 2 bags of the regular treats. But I was intrigued by a new version of M&Ms. Plus, Papa Bear was in a land far, far away and I was jones-ing for some chocolate rewards of my own for surviving the week without him.

Cyberbears, meet my new love. Pretzel M&Ms, meet my Cyberbears.

Oh my. They are the perfect combination of sweet and salty (just like the packaging says) and great for snacking while doing just about anything. (Not that I've tried that or anything).

These things are going to make me a contestant on "The Biggest Loser-Bear".

And when I'm crying and puking in a bucket after the world's hardest workout, holding on to the treadmill for dear life, and Jillian screams at me in her meanest voice ever, "WERE THOSE PRETZEL M&Ms WORTH IT NOW?" I'll look up at her with snot hanging from my nose, wipe the puke off my chin and reply, "HECK YES!"

They are that good.

**This blog entry was not a paid endorsement for either Pretzel M&Ms or The Biggest Loser-Bear**