It’s best to remember here that most of the time, we live in la-la land.
What I mean is, we are always expecting things to go a certain way. And by “we” I think it’s best to just get it out of the way and say, “me.”
Like, I expect to go to the store. Simple enough. It should go like this:
1. Get money.
2. Go to store.
3. Buy stuff.
4. Come home.
But INSTEAD, this is what occurs:
1. Money not available because lost wallet.
2. Lost wallet because children. Children move things. However, when “helping look” they move one pillow. One.
3. Um, yelling.
4. Eat popcorn and pickles for lunch because no other food here.
5. Children thrilled. Back to moving all things in the house to wrong places.
6. Lots of muttering and looking under things for the rest of the afternoon.
7. Wallet found under cat. Must check later if he went online shopping with my Visa again.
I would like to state for the record that I had the best of intentions with Red’s costume. After much deliberation on his part he final decision for this year was a spider. A SUPER spider. I accepted without hesitation because for two weeks I had to field possibilities such as:
The human heart. With da bentricles!
Maybe a Batman guy? but a BAD one? (Possible, if you counted the costume as poorly made. That’s do-able.)
T-REX EATING SUMTHIN!!! LOTSA BLOOD!
We then had to go over this yearly gem of a tedious and horrible rule at our house: We don’t do spooky. We are unspooky Halloweeners. Life is spooky enough without us putting some fake blood and a machete in the hands of a six year old. We just don’t go there.
This, of course, always merits a fun game of
SPOOKY? NOT SPOOKY?
Wee innocent babies: Der zombies? Spooky?
Wee ones: Frankenswine!
Momsie: Spooky! but that’s cute!
Dose things on TV? All the time?
You get the idea. Once Red finally offered his spider idea, and then followed it up with a full five minute description as how “da spiders? Dey are our FRIENDS! Eating insects, spinning all those webs, dey hardly ever, EVER come outta nowhere and attack, suck the blood right outta you and KILL you!” Very convincing argument.
But then I realized – spiders have, like, a bunch of legs and stuff. I realized I was once again perilously close to the land of Overzealous Mom Fail. This is a scary place that I tend to visit at least once a month or so, usually around the time of the school fun fair (“Sure! I’ll decorate a cake for the cake walk! No problem!) or for a Mom’s Day Out (“I would LOVE to make four pans of something casseroley and delicious and not at all gluey or seasoned with despair and lack of confidence!”)
The Land of Overzealous Mom Failures is littered with sad Halloween costumes from those of us who know how to use a needle and thread, we just don’t really know how to use them effectively. And we like shortcuts.
So I have a spider now, with duct-taped legs that thwack limply against my poor son’s “spider adobem” and even the fangs I drew on him are lopsided. If this spider could talk, he would lisp. But who’s to say, spiders don’t lisp? Maybe they do. Or some do. Poor things. Maybe… I’m the spider whisperer for all spiders with speech impediments. Yea me!
*No spiders were harmed in the making of this post. In fact, I would like to go one step further and suggest that I am now the protector of all spiders who are “special.” And my spider is adorable. AND VERY DARN SPECIAL!
** Couldn’t tell you why Blonde wanted one leg up, one down on his alien costume. It’s one of his pieces of flare, I guess.
Happy Belated Halloween, ya’ll.
I will make homemade Halloween costumes until they rip the glittered rik-rak and googley eyes out of my cold, tired hands.