I wanted to document our Halloween festivities all weekend, but I found it difficult to locate my keyboard after a suffering the affects of a Nyquil binge.
I’m much better now. And as a bonus, my head didn’t cave in from all the nose blowing. As was originally suspected.
We here in the House of Fiddle, celebrate Halloween by attending a bash thrown by our church each year. We attempted the neighborhood trick-or-treating routine when Emme was small.
However, Freddy Krueger, The Wicked Witch, Space Monster with One Eye, and the guy with an ax sticking out of his head sent her screaming for the safety of her own home. So, we stopped. Cold turkey. Because the thought of sleeping for the next month or so with a child wrapped around my head wasn’t really all that appealing.
Thankfully, a few years ago, our church provided an alternative that still involved candy, plus a fun family type atmosphere. And Starbucks was served to the adults.
Praise the Lord and pass the cream.
This year, Emme dressed up as Shawn Johnson, the gymnast. Complete with 14 hair clips and glitter hair spray. Cailey was a pink fairy princess.
I attempted to dress Jensen as a baseball player, but he would have nothing to do with the baseball pants. Or jacket. Or glove. So, he went as a stubborn 3 year old. Fiddledaddy came prepared to be a “Jensen Wrangler.” So he wore his sneakers. And popped a Tylenol for good measure.
I reprised my role as “Super Mom” this year, wearing a costume that Trish fashioned. She reprised her role as well. Because, well, we didn’t think about it really until the afternoon of the event. Besides, I really wanted to dress as Wonder Woman, but still needed a few thousand more trips to the gym. Oh. And a boob job
Cars were lined up around the perimeter with decorated trunks. Much candy was dispensed as children trailed from trunk to trunk. To my horror, I realized that I hadn’t brought a bag for my children to load their booty into.
What kind of mother doesn’t pack a trick or treat bag? To go trick or treating?
I fished into the back of my van and came out with a plastic library bag, and a large bright silver insulated bag used for hauling frozen items home from the grocery store. Emme was horrified. I tried to sell her on it by turning it inside out, to look more generic. And not so LOOK, MY MOTHER IS A LOSER! And then I demonstrated the merits of such a bag in that it would hold A LOT of candy. She wasn’t buying.
Instead, she gratefully took a sad old Wal•Mart plastic bag from some stranger who took pity on her.
The highlight of the activities for my girls was the rock climbing wall. An impressive climbing wall to be sure, towering a good 20 feet into the air.
When we first arrived at the wall, both of my girls made it about half way, before giving up. But, at evenings end, they gave it another go with their boy cousins. The 8 year old boy cousin scrambled up easily and rang the bell. Cailey watched intently. The gauntlet was thrown down.
Cailey, it seems, inherited my competitive – win at all cost spirit. She strode over to me, and handed me her pink fairy wings, pink tulle skirt, glitter wand, and library-bag of candy.
She meant business.
I, in turn, piled the items in the stroller. A stroller, by the way, which no longer can contain a certain 3 year old. But works beautifully as a pack horse for assorted jackets, costume pieces, candy bags, cameras, purses, and empty Starbucks cups. Plural.
My Pink Fairy Princess conquered that wall with all the 7 year old gusto she could muster. I could see beads of glittery sweat form on her brow. And she rang that bell, with assorted relatives and friends cheering her on. No 8 year old boy is going to show her up. No sir.
Emme made it up about half way again. Which I think is awesome since she unhappily inherited her mother’s fear of splattering brain matter on the sidewalk.
Consequently, the cold I was nursing was made much worse from the chilly night air. And then there was all the yelling.
YOU CAN DO IT, BABY, RING THAT BELL!
We closed the place down, and y’all should be proud of me. No, I didn’t climb the wall. But, I only ate ONE Reeses Peanut Butter cup and ONE York Peppermint Patty.
A Halloween miracle, to be sure.
We drove home, exhausted. And carefully crept down our street, taking great care to avoid the ghosts, goblins, and assorted ax murderers.
And as an aside, my favorite childhood costume was “I Dream of Jeannie.”
In case you were wondering.
I recently found my little harem costume. It was actually pastel p.j.s that my mother altered when I was 7. I tried to talk Cailey into wearing them. Nothing doing. She had no idea who “I Dream of Jeannie” was. She was certain, though, that Jeannie was no fairy princess.
Now, a question. What was your favorite childhood halloween costume? I’m taking notes. For next year, doncha know.