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Halloween Is Not For Sissies

My children anxiously await a yearly event at our church on Halloween night. They host “Trunk or Treat” for the children in our area. Cars are lined up, with elaborately decorated trunks and festive characters ready to dispense candy to little trick or treaters as they stroll by. It is a most awesome idea.

Last year we attended, and the event was held outdoors. The kids talked about it all year. So, imagine the disappointment when my Emme developed a fever the afternoon of the 31st. She immediately took to her deathbed to ward off further illness. Vowing that if she took a nap, all would be right with the world.

It appeared to work, because by mid-afternoon, she was feeling better. We decided it would be okay to go if Aunt Trish brought her little red wagon, so we could wheel Emme around so as to not overdo it. The house was abuzz with excitement as Cailey donned her princess ballerina fairy costume, Emme climbed into her karate gee, and Jensen was dressed as a 3 foot tall basketball star. Trish made costumes for us. We went as SuperMom. I wore my Superman pj bottoms, a glittery “S” on my chest, and a red cape that read “Super Mom”, lest anyone be confused. “Are those your pajamas?” Fiddledaddy queried, as I climbed into the van.

Like I never wear my pajamas in public.

Emme lasted in the little red wagon about 5 minutes. The skies were threatening rain, so most of the event had been moved indoors. Except for the trunks. Of the cars. A long line had formed so the kids could collect their booty before the skies opened up. We adults tried our best to keep things moving along. My Cailey stopped at each trunk and quizzed the occupants about the peanut content of their particular bowl of candy. “I’m allergic,” she explained to each and every car owner, while batting her bright blue eyes. I stood behind her hollering, “CAILEY, GO FOR THE REESES, SO MOMMY HAS SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR!

We all then moved indoors. With the other sardines. The bouncy houses, slides, and games were in our sanctuary. I heard that there was a promise of Starbucks Coffee and hotdogs indoors as well. Since I’m extremely claustrophobic, that was the only thing getting me in those doors.

We all split up with various offspring and cousins. Divide and conquer seemed our only safe option. The lines were long, the air was stagnate, and the Starbucks was gone. Supermom Trish and I looked at one another holding our children’s various costume pieces, shoes, prizes, and bags of candy. Like pack mules. Check please.

Finally, Fiddledaddy and I decided to grab our children and make a break for it. Besides, Jensen, who doesn’t care for enclosed spaces, had lost his sense of decorum two migraines ago.

One bright note to the evening is that Fiddledaddy and I discovered that if we made loud animal noises over the walkie-talkies, we could embarrass our children.

Good times.

On the way home we stopped at Wendy’s so that we could feed the children something nutritious. And we added chocolate frostys because we didn’t have nearly enough sugar in the car.

After the children had climbed into their pjs, Emme began complaining that she didn’t feel well again. And no, I didn’t give her any Halloween candy. Just the Frosty. And that may have been what sent her over the abyss. She was sitting on my bed telling her daddy that the Tylenol chewables in the bubble gum flavor would make her throw up.

He’s gonna believe her next time.

I heard the rumbling. And the hurried attempt to scoop her up and get her into the bathroom. All in vain. I entered the room and followed the trail of chocolate frosty, mixed with chicken nuggets, fries, and bathroom floor hair. While Fiddledaddy deposited our girl into the tub for a much needed soak, I was left to clean up the mess. While gagging.

And still wearing my red supermom cape.


Oh well. What’s Halloween without a little carnage, after all.

20 Responses to Halloween Is Not For Sissies

  • I think one should always clean up vomit in a red Supermom cape. Just to clarify one’s Supermom status.

  • naked with the cape. less to launder.

  • Oh, gee. It’s the cape that makes this. I mean, for me. For you, I’m sure it was the puke. You have my sympathy. So does this mean I could have her candy?

  • Something tells me she won’t be up for another Frosty for a while. How about you?

  • The image of you cleaning up vomit seemed perfectly natural–I just did it the other day, the whole way from the bathroom, down the hall, up the stairs past the other bathroom to the girls room–did I mention that she managed to get the walls too, both sides, two feet up ? YEah, I get that. It was the supermom cape that sent me over the edge. Gotta get me one of those–that makes all the difference.

    And a tip for miss “I’m allergic”. We have three of those, which is why we didn’t do trick or treating for several years–every. single. house. Oh. my. goodness. I finally thought, why bother. Then my dad came up with an awesome idea. The kids collect candy then give the bags to my dad, who PAYS THEM FOR IT!!!! 5 bucks each for their bags of candy. They would happily go to more houses along our death trap of a road if I let them. And since most people know they can’t eat the candy they give them money instead–$1 bills! They had enough money after Halloween this year to buy a DS game! New!

  • You earned that cape last night girl.

  • There is no amount of coffee that could convince me to endure that. Godiva or Ghiradelli would certainly have to be involved to get me to consider.

    Somewhere about age three I really began to believe them when they said they felt spewy. Fiddledaddy needs to listen to you, and apparently Emme, a little more. So sorry but the cape totally made the mental image for me. You are my favorite Super Mom.

    We had a sick Boo for the lovely day, here. No water in the morning. And the tooth-fairy in drag. Smoking a cigarette. We live fancy.

  • I feel for you. Ugh.

    I had some wonderfully whitty comment but alas, I’m beat and can’t remember my own name.

  • Halloween is nothing without a good puke story.

  • Oh the irony. Cleaning the puke with the cape, one of thee most unliked supermom duties of all. God bless you Dee Dee (ahem….Clark-ette)

  • I hope she’s better today!!!

  • OH NO!! i think superdaddy should have flown in to save the day!!

  • It’s unanimous; we all love Super Mom cleaning the junk up. This is my favorite post I’ve read all week.

  • Oh, you sooo have my undying sympathy! There is nothing worse than a room to room trail of vomit. Don’t ask me how I know.

  • Happy Pukin’ Halloween! I’m sorry, but it wasn’t the cape that did me in – it was the pajama pants! You are one brave soul.

  • Hey, we do Trunk or Treat at our church too!

  • Oooooh. I got off easy. My little one had the fever, but luckily it returned just BEFORE I thought that we could venture out. Well, you know. I mean IF IT WAS going to return, it happened at a good time. Hope Cailey’s feeling better – and that all the puke washed off your cape. You’re gonna need again, of course.

  • As usual, another good story!

    My son has a severe peanut allergy too….we don’t T-o-T…..when he was smaller we would have a party with cousins or go out to eat.

    Enjoy your weekend!

  • I can sooo relate. I wrote about this same very topic last night…but I didn’t have a cape 🙁

  • I can vanquish any form of puke clean up without gagging, except chocolate shake/frosty.

    That, my dears, is my kryptonite.