Halloween. Indecisive children. It’s a gory psychological mess for mom. Telling my kids they are old enough to plan and make their own costumes didn’t go exactly as I had imagined. Not that I didn’t throw them a few ideas for them to start with (and they REJECTED THEM ALL), but it seemed too difficult a decision to come to in any timely fashion. Especially for my oldest boy. He’s 11. It stressed him out so much, that he decided that he just would rather not go trick-or-treating. Except, he never acts stressed out. He simply presents such decisions as a kind of mature milestone he’s reached. But that’s what he had settled on until 5pm last night when he decided he should go after all. Halloween night. YUP.
We have a few costumes kicking around from previous years, and an earlier idea that he seemed good with a couple of weeks ago – a mummy. I had the supplies already, and after trying to convince me that he just wanted to go as “a school kid with a backpack” (a novel idea for a homeschooled kid, I suppose, but not so much for all those folk out there, the keepers of the candy), he settled on the mummy.
|“I’m a school kid with a backpack!”
….. Not so much. Sorry buddy. But the Mummy idea? That I can get on board with.
Dinner was on the stove, my other two children needed help zipping up and duct taping bits and pieces, kids were starting to come to our door, and I was wrapping my 11 yr old, pinning long strips of cloth to his winter coat as he slowly spun. The youngest’s costume was easiest to assemble, so he manned the door, giving me a play by play of which character took what kind of candy.
Dinner was overcooked, but husband, home now and hungry, dished us up, still in his outerwear, and the youngest two proceeded to complain about the cooked vegetables while I struggled with the final touches on a mask.
“Don’t mess with mom.” I said. Maybe steam was coming out of my ears at this point … but I think I was holding it together, more or less. You know. And you also know that you don’t mess with the powers that be on the “candiest” night of the year. Shut up. Eat your cooked vegetables. Get the hell out there knocking on doors. That’s your soul purpose, kids.
Annnnd, they made it out the door. The youngest can’t see out of his mask, he informs me, and it’s my fault. “Just hold your father’s hand.” I yell after them. “Do it for the candy.”
And instead if just sitting down and enjoying my mushy dinner, I thought, hey, there’s a blog post in this …. queue eating at my keyboard with my sketchbook on my lap.
Hope you all had a happy evening last night too!