Halloween 1997. It was 5:45pm when I walked through the front door after taking both kids, 2 years old and 3mos, to the doctor with ear infections. Brad was standing in the kitchen with pumpkin guts laying all over the table and a partially carved pumpkin. Before I could yell at him, I noticed that he was reading our pediatrician’s emergency handbook. Then I noticed that his left forearm was bleeding. So I said in the most, you know, casual way, “Hon…what are you doing, and um…why are you bleeding?”
“I’m researching what to do for a stab wound."
“A what? You’re researching a what? WTF? Let me see your arm!”
And there it was. He had a knife wound in his left arm. “WTF?” I repeated as if clarification of the previous “WTF?” was necessary.
“The knife slipped and went into my arm.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a cry for help?” Which made us both crack up. I still could not figure out what he was researching. “You need stitches.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes you do.”
By this time it was 6:30pm and kids were ringing the doorbell. I sent Brad to the hospital while I passed out candy. My son had fallen asleep in his car-seat-baby-bucket-thing. My daughter was cranky with ear pain and hunger. I got her some food and sat her down in front of her favorite video: Winnie the Pooh.
Halloween 2009. This year my daughter is 13 and my son is 12. Driving home from school last week we passed one of a bazillian pumpkin “patches”, and I said, “We need to get you guys to the patch so you can pick out of few pumpkins.”
Silence. (Internal WTF?)
“When would you like to do that?” I asked casually.
“We don’t need a pumpkin this year. They’re kind of a pain.” My daughter said.
“Yeah.” chimed my son.
WTF? [I repeated in my head as if clarification of the previous WTF? was necessary.]
“Seriously? You guys! You don’t want a pumpkin?” I stumbled, “okay, that’s cool.”
I was momentarily elated. And then suddenly I was sad; lachrymose in fact. We have other decorations up: orange lights, a ghost and signs. We even “booed” our neighbors across the street. But no pumpkin? I wondered if there was a tab in the pediatrician’s emergency handbook for this.
So I’ll feed everyone and sit them down in front of a basketball game or the World Series. The grown ups will steal candy from our own bowl, and my brother will fall asleep in the big red chair. My daughter is helping a family with four kids go trick-or-treating, and my son bought a scary mask to wear while HE hands out candy.
I’m not a mom who laments every stage of maturity as a sign of lost youth and innocence. I love being with them every step of the way. I didn’t mind when we left the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny and Santa behind. I wasn’t sad the first time they didn’t want to watch Winnie the Pooh. I wasn’t crushed when they stopped watching every animated holiday special. But for some reason losing the pumpkin for a holiday that I don’t even particularly like made me cry. This year Linus will be all alone in the pumpkin patch, and for the first time, my kids and I won’t be there to watch him.
