We decorated tonight and I’m really sad that I already ordered our Christmas cards because this just happened:
Halloween was not very important to us when I was little. I know I trick-or-treated several years. I remember dressing as a southern belle and attending a fall festival. One time I remember a pumpkin being in our kitchen one year and then on the porch after that, but I don’t really remember designing it or cutting it up.
Why is that?
Now I know.
When the P was four, he begged for a pumpkin to carve. This seemed like a fun tradition, so I picked up a pumpkin and some free newspapers to cover the floor and I cut open this pumpkin. I showed the P, “Look, pumpkin gunk. Help me get it out.”
He touched it once, shuttered, and never looked back.
I gutted and carved that whole pumpkin all by myself. It was a shame.
The next year, we skipped it. No one noticed.
This year, the P asked again if we could please get a pumpkin. I said okay because he’s older now, right? He can help a little.
The gunk still made him shutter, he’s still not old enough to handle the carving knife, and he can read now, so the advertisements in the free newspapers are suddenly way inappropriate.
So, again, I carved this whole pumpkin by myself. And I vowed, “I am not doing this again.”
I imagine that’s why I do not have memories of pumpkin carving, and that’s why my children will not have memories of pumpkin carving. And I think that’s for the best.
If they ask next year, we are going to paint our pumpkins. Everyone is old enough to paint.
A few days ago, I explained the costume picking process that my kids went through.
Well, they really did wear the princess and Spiderman costumes the weekend before Halloween. We went to a Fall Festival.
For one thing, it was a spirit week at school. That specific day was something like “Time Warp” day, but they didn’t call it that. Everyone was to dress up in a sort of period costume from whatever period they liked.
The P wanted to dress up like he was from the 70’s, because he doesn’t really know what those clothes looked or felt like.
We don’t own anything that looks like it was worn in the 70’s.
So, that Wednesday morning, we did what it turns out lots of other 1st grader moms did: we put him in a white T-shirt with jeans, slicked his hair over and told him that he was the Fonz.
Later, we ran into some serious trick-or-treaters and took this photo that will probably make me laugh for the rest of my life:
Then, for church that night, there was a Superhero party. It would have made sense to change back into Superman for the Superhero party, but our hair was too cool to get smashed by the mask. So, we decided that the Fonz might be a superhero.
The Princess did not want to wear her Princess dress. It was too much trouble, I guess. So she put on boots. I told her she was Nancy Sinatra.
And no one else was dressed in our costumes. Imagine that.
So, this is a little belated.
It’s the beginning of October, I ask the kids what they want to be for Halloween.
The P: A man with a mask. A mask that you will knit with holes in the eyes.
The Princess: A Princess.
I’m an experienced mom. I know that I can’t purchase costumes based on this one conversation.
Later in the month, I ask again. I get the same answer. Consistency is good.
Now, I do knit, but I only knit scarves. And it takes me about 6 months to make a scarf. There’s no chance I could learn to make a knitted face mask in a month. So I told the P I would try to sew together some kind of mask. He said this would be okay.
I asked the Princess what Princesses wear. She says: Tutus.
Awesome. We have lots of tutus. Halloween will be easy.
A week later, I try to figure out how I will stitch together a mask. I ask the P again, what are you going to be?
The P: Spiderman. I already have the costume.
Of course he does. He’s been Spiderman for the last 6 of his 7 Halloweens!
Me: No mask?
The P: No. I don’t need a mask anymore.
Hurrah! Halloween will be so very easy!
Then, Grandma calls, “The Princess says she will be a princess for Halloween and that you are sewing her a blue dress on your sewing machine.”
This is not what we had agreed to. I explain to Grandma how princesses wear tutus.
Grandma tells the Princess that she already has a pretty purple dress. The Princess explains that princesses wear blue.
The next day, we go to a book fair. The fire alarm goes off (it’s only a drill) but we have to leave quickly. We grab the first book we see and check out.
Later, we find out one of the characters is a princess…in a purple dress. Our princess is convinced.
And Halloween is saved.
The Princess is in a two-day per week preschool now. She likes it.
Most of her stories about school follow this formula:
Caring Adult: Did you have fun at school today?
Princess: Yes. Everyone (insert normal preschool activity here).
Caring Adult: That’s great. Did you (insert normal preschool activity again)?
Princess: No, I just watched.
This is how it goes.
Last week, the Princess said, “Everyone jumped like a frog. But I did not jump. I did not know how to jump like a frog. ” Then, “I will ask brother to teach me how.”
This is about our cat.
This is our useless cat on our roof, but this post is not about that.
We have a black cat. Her name is Fish. That is her real name.
She used to be an indoor cat, but a few months ago, she got out and really, really liked it. She came back that night. The next day, she got out again. She came home at night. We started to like this arrangement. She likes it, too.
But then October hit. We parents started to worry that someone might snatch our black cat because of Halloween and, while she is really annoying, we do want to protect her.
So in mid-October, I told the P, “Now some people think black cats are bad, so someone might try to take Fish and maybe hurt her if we let her out right now. She needs to stay inside until Halloween is over.”
That’s all I said.
Later that morning, Fish got out, of course. The P ran out to get her. The Princess, who I had not said anything to about Halloween or black cats, leaned out the door and said, “Come back Fish! You could be killed!”
She’s a little dramatic.
But I think she gets it from her brother.