ABOUT ME

About me: My husband Chuck, our six-year-old Junior, our three-year-old Everette and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

An attempted love note to my motherly self

I was going to post some Hurricane Sandy photos for my first "welcome back to power and its modern conveniences" post—yes, it blew—but the photo below is so much more timely.



It's fluffy snow covering my jack-o'-lanterns and mums, and I took the picture tonight, right after we got back from trick or treating. See, the town postponed Halloween a week because of the hurricane. Then we got a nor'easter. (There's a punch line in there somewhere, right?) And even though the temperature is 32, and snow is blowing and it's ass butt cold, the neighborhood parents convinced me (Chuck was stuck at work) that I should join them trick or treating for the kids. 

"They're so excited," one mom told me. "You can't not take them out."

Um, yes I can not. 

Except, I let her talk me into it. 

The kids' costumes needed some refining. Instead of being a knight, Junior wore snow pants, boots, a jacket, a hat and gloves. I crammed two cardboard "skis" down the back of his jacket. Voila...a skier. I stuffed Everette's snowsuit with socks and pantyhose until he was so puffy he couldn't bend over. Voila...Ralphie's brother from A Christmas Story.


We hit the streets. 

No one had their lights on. Rather, every 10th house had their lights on, so we did a fair amount of trudging. Up hills. Across lawns. Zig zagging streets. There were casualties. The plow went by twice. One kid fell off the steps and into the shrubs. Everette lost a mitten. Candy became wet and frozen. The snow stung our eyes. My toes and chin went numb. 

"This is ridiculous," I said to an elderly women who greeted us at one door.

"You're crazy!" she hissed at us. "Crazy!"

"She's right!" I cried as we walked away. "What are we doing? Our parents wouldn't have braved a nor'easter for us—so we could trick or treat for a handful of candy. We are crazy." 

I said I was done. I said I was going home.

Most of the neighbors agreed, except for one father.

"You seem to be doing a lot of complaining," he said.

His comment left me speechless. I had assumed we were all in the same boat: miserably dragging ourselves through the cold and snow so our already-indulged children (who'd celebrated Halloween last week at a neighborhood party and at a school-wide costume parade) could again experience the novelty of trick or treating. I had assumed we all couldn't wait for it to be over.

Instead, I guess, Mr. Sunshine.

Back at the homestead—and again basking in the delicious heat of the furnace—I told Chuck I wanted to punch Mr. Sunshine's lights out. How dare he accuse me of complaining. How dare he.

"He's dumb," Chuck offered.

Maybe. But here's the thing. I refuse to feel ashamed because I wasn't aglow in the joy of doing Halloween for the fifth time. I couldn't use a stroller in the snow. Everette couldn't keep up with the older kids, so I carried him the entire time. In his snowsuit. All 30 pounds of him. 

Chuck and I made Junior two costumes this year. We decorated pumpkins. We raked leaves and jumped. We drank cider. We made caramel apples. We listened to the Monster Mash. Again and again and again. We even did the damn crayon and leaf rubbings and framed them. We did Halloween. I loved all of it (most of it) but for God's sake, it's almost Thanksgiving. At this point, Halloween needed to be taken out back and shot already.

I hate that I even need to justify my actions—my dedication to my child. I hate that I feel better seeing my argument in print when deep down, I know I'm a damn good mother. That's my problem, not Mr. Sunshine's, but the whole exchange begs the question: when is it ever enough?

I keep thinking I know the answer. Then I realize, I know so very little. 

(Except that I hate Halloween in the snow! Hate it, you jackass.)

8 comments:

Patty Woodland said...

You don't know what was in Mr. Sunshine's thermos, do you?

Keely said...

Hahhahah! I agree with Patty. He was probably well-numbed and having a fucking grand old time. Also, his kids were probably old enough to walk.

You're more dedicated than I. I would have pretended the storm blew Halloween away this year.

The Captain's Wife said...

we boycotted last weeks decision and went up to the mobile homes in WChester. K got a full bucket of candy in under a dozen houses. Then I took her to my towns "project safe halloween" on Friday. For me, that was DONE!! I never even mentioned going again.

after the past 2 years I am beginning to think that we meed to begin planning halloween in snow or sans power in the future.

Sparkling said...

I don't know when Halloween became something that someone can "postpone" and "do" another day. It's supposed to be something fun. For one night. Not weeks of Hallwoeen parties and gatherings. Not something you postpone and then do a week later or do a week early. That's just such baloney!

Roshni AaMom said...

You're a good mom! I wouldn't even have ventured out!! And, My Sunshine should just shut it!!

Twisted Cinderella said...

I actually completely agree with you. I did lots of Halloween. Except on Halloween night, we had a storm,with a weather warning on the weather channel. So we stayed home, dressed up, had a Halloween picnic in the living room and ate the candy that nobody came to our house to get because of the weather.

SmartBear said...

Ummmm....plus...a STORM of epic proportions blew through! What the hell? You think maybe the kids might benefit from learning that sometimes things don't go according to plan? I get my knickers in a twist when adults are all "do it for the kids!" You know...I think kids sometimes get A LOT and we do A LOT and then bad things happen and maybe we could focus on the good things. Like the monster mash and hot cider and the fact that your home is safe and sound. I guess what I am saying is I would like to find Mr. Sunshine and give him a good scolding.
You did Halloween. You were great. No need to justify anything in your predicament.
Neighbors...sheesh!
Best,
Tina

Small Town Mommy said...

I can totally relate. For the last two years, Halloween has been the holiday that wouldn't die. I would have probably told Mr Sunshine exactly what I thought of him and trick or treating in practically mid-November.