Nov 8, 2010
“I go trick-or-treat!” Abby said. No, more like yelped – hopping up and down over eyeing her costume hanging up in her sister’s room.
I wasn’t quite sure how to tell her … trick-or-treating … yeah, uh, that was last Sunday, sweetie. When you were on the couch. “Getting sick,” to put it politely.
So instead I became my own favorite mother – because I only have a few months left until all of these lies I’m telling are exposed by someone or something or at the very least she develops long-term memories and when she’s 13 she’ll call me out on it – and told her “yes! Yes you are going trick-or-treating!”
And then I had to think … Knowing approximately zero people in the neighborhood who would care if we showed up on, say, Nov. 8 in Halloween garb to beg for candy, we had to get creative.
See, this wasn’t about the candy or even the a-dor-a-ble antennae on top of the girls’ butterfly costumes (but, OMG, antennae on babies is like whipped cream on chocolate fudge; try to keep your finger off of them, just try. You can’t). I was angry – livid, I you might say – about this whole stomach flu incident because to my irrational working-mother mind this Halloween business is something I earned: One of those motherhood moments you get to take cute pictures of your kids in, scrapbook or post on Facebook … Sigh. No, instead I was watching “Princess and the Frog” and peeking out from behind our closed curtains at all the other families out trick-or-treating.
Yes, I’m aware how lame that sounds.
So I sent Dave, also half-dying of the stomach flu (because he half-dies whenever he’s sick, anytime, any reason), to the drug store Nov. 1 to pick up half-off candy, and I stashed it on top of the fridge and we’re going trick-or-treating Easter-egg style Saturday morning … Meaning I have to make sure I hide them well enough the dog doesn’t get them but not so well that the girls can’t find them.
And we’ll get away with it, this year, because she has no idea.
This is one of those moments I’m going to file away and pull out next time I have to put in the “Dora the Explorer” DVD so I can do dishes. Or nap. “See! I’m not a bad mom! I did that Halloween thing!” Oh yeah. Working short-term memories to my benefit.