The aftermath

Halloween morning I "hit the floor running" and didn't stop until bedtime that night. That morning I raced around like a dog with it's tail on fire, cleaning the house and occasionally barking reprimands such as: "No Robert, the kitty will not look good wearing Mommy’s lipstick" and "The dresser is not a mountain, so stop climbing it."

Of all the mornings, my house picked this one to look like a disaster area. I had just done the last load of laundry when I noticed the house was quiet, too quiet. What is that child into? I wondered. I didn’t have to puzzle over it too long; as I walked down the hall, the sweet aroma of bananas greeted my nostrils. I walked into his bedroom, and was sickened by what I saw. Globs of banana, resembling mounds of snot were everywhere, on the television, all over the stuffed animals. As I stood there, a glob of banana fell off the ceiling and onto my shoulder; I still don’t know how he managed to get banana on the ceiling.

“Hi Mommy! I’m eating the bananas.” Robert chirped, patting a piece of the fruit into the hardwood floor. He sat on his large stuffed horse, looking like the little girl rescued in the movie Poltergeist. It’s these moments you will look back on years later and laugh your fanny off; however, at that moment I contemplated selling my child to the zoo so he could be with the other monkeys.

“Umm. Well, you did something with them, that’s for sure,” I said evenly. This must be what Mama means when she says I’m ‘getting my raising,’I thought as I cleaned the mess. Next, I plopped a protesting Robert into the tub, scrubbed the banana out of his hair, and dug it out of his ears.

By the time Robert was dressed and fed a snack, it was almost noon when we left. “Foolish mere mortal,” the imaginary voice of Fate boomed in my ear as I zoomed down the road, “did you think I could let you get through this day unscathed?”

As anyone could have predicted, Wal-Mart was packed tighter than sardines in a can. The Halloween aisle was a scene of mass chaos as candy-grabbing monsters, in the form of adults, clawed frantically for those last precious bags of candy.

Robert and I got our groceries and got the “heck outta Dodge.” Oh crap, its already three o’clock, I thought, glancing at my watch. I had the market cornered on stress; trick-or-treating was at five at the mall, and I had very little done.

I picked Seth up early from school, and faster than a scalded cat can run, we headed home with the groceries. Hmm. . .maybe it was the crazed look in my eye--a look that said I could knock over a 7-11 for a chocolate bar and not feel bad--or a sudden prick of gallantry, but Seth unloaded the Jimmy and put everything away. I was a human tornado as I fed Robert a late lunch, made a cake, fed myself, and started making the food for our traditional family party.

At four, everything grounded to a halt in the kitchen, and we got dressed. Seth borrowed my costume idea from last year and dressed as a morning person; he wore his robe, I gelled and messed up his hair, and he carried a coffee cup.

Robert was a tourist. I left him in the shorts and shirt he wore to the store, put a white cap that had PADRE ISLAND emblazoned across the front on his head, and hung a pair of binoculars around his neck.

Being stressed actually served a purpose. I took off my clothes, and put them back on inside out. Then I took address labels, wrote the words, MORTGAGE, KIDS, JOB, MONEY, HUSBAND, and stuck them on my shorts and shirt. My costume: a person turned inside out by stress.

At the mall, Seth and Robert scored about 5 pounds of candy by trick-or-treating at the different stores. Seth’s costume was a hit. There were several at the mall who asked him what he was, and when he told them, they almost busted a gut laughing. They complimented his on his originality, and his face lit up.

John had just gotten home as we pulled up. In the soft glow of the porch light he looked me up and down, taking in my inside out clothes and labels. “Please tell me you didn’t buy groceries like that,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. My mean streak flared up, and I was tempted to say sweetly, “Of course I did; and I told every person I saw I was married to you.” Instead, I said, rather huffily, “Of course not. Are you nuts?”


I embedded myself in the kitchen, and here's what we had:

Scarecrow noses and phlegm-- carrot sticks and Vidalia onion dressing

Witches' blood--guacamole dip mixed with sour cream and served with corn chips

Devil's eyeballs--deviled eggs sporting one black olive slice each for a pupil

Witches' fingers--fried green beans

Blood-- Hi-C fruit punch

A bloody hand— bread shaped into the form of a hand. I placed string cheese inside the finger portions. After the hand was done, I stabbed a plastic knife in the top and drizzled marinara sauce around it

We had a wonderful night, but I’m still trying to play catch up, and the coffee pot beckons. How was your Halloween?