My God, I have such juicy stuff to tell you! Some of it is juicy – in that way – because it’s about how I discovered kissing (at the ripe old age of 15 and it’s about a LOT more than that), but there’s also the whale shark story! It’s a-coming and I don’t think it will disappoint. I mean, there’s VIDEOS! Anyway, back to the task at hand. You know I love Finish the Sentence Friday more than words itself, so I’ll be on task with that, as we discuss Halloween. Now, this is previously published but it’s nearly a 100% rewrite. This was the Halloween that never really was, for weather-related reasons, but there was more to the story. And I was trying so badly to tell you in this original post, but there really was no “you”, because this was only a year into blogging and probably only my mom and cousin read my blog. It was there for the taking, though – a ripe, juicy secret. I have a lot of those to share in the coming weeks. If you’ll have me, that is.
So, the Halloween of 2011? Not a banner year.
It went just as badly, if not more, as Halloween 1986 had. And that was the Halloween in which I bought a cheap, plastic Cinderella costume at a garage sale for 25 cents, with one of those terrible masks that got wet and suffocating. Then on Halloween, I had a high fever and my grandfather took pity on me and tried to take me trick-or-treating but I only had the stamina to last three measly houses. Three measly candy “fun-size” (as in, not fun) bars. Or worse. Smarties.
In general, childhood Halloween was magical. It started in my house with Count Chocula cereal and presents and decorations. For dinner, we’d have “Halloweenies” which were hot dogs stuffed with cheese. Then the five of us would spread out with our collective gangs or groups of friends and stake our claims at the many houses sprawled on top of Mooney Mountain. We were told not to get into cars with strangers and we got pamphlets about how to look for razor blades in our candy, but we generally knew most people and avoided most scary houses. Later that night, the five of us would gather back at home, dump all of our pillowcases of candy onto the floor of my bedroom (the largest room) and do some heavy-duty candy bartering amazingness.
Also in general, high school and college Halloweens were magical. It was about trick-or-treating when you really no longer had business trick-or-treating. Or maybe you were like me and growing six inches within one year and you literally needed to eat a king-sized candy bar every hour post breakfast. It was also about first boyfriends/girlfriends and doing matching costumes with them. Or maybe it was about your hot older sister throwing a wild superhero costume party in her off-campus college house, and you showing up in a short, short skirt, red cape, Supergirl tunic and thigh-high boots. This actually has to do with my hot prom date.
In general, post-pregnancy Halloween is magical. It’s about getting your hair done in Princess Leia buns at 8:00 am and walking around town in a long white robe. And then bringing your three-month-old to your Beyond Birth class at the hospital in a Chewbacca outfit. And watching everyone laugh as your hairy little Wookiee ate her own fur. Then later you participated in the town’s trick-or-treating and you ran into one of the doctors who watched you labor and you delighted when she looked you up and down and told you you looked pretty fantastic for three months post-birth. Then you went to three Halloween parties. ‘Cause why not go to three?
The next year you dressed up as characters from LOST and your not even 18-month-old wasn’t old enough to mind when you stuffed her into a full polar bear costume. You participated in a town-wide Halloween parade that brought back memories to you of every Halloween movie and commercial and TV show you’d ever seen, but hadn’t seen in real life. You might know what I mean – it’s when the streets are literally crawling with people and spirit. Maybe it’s because I grew up on top of a mountain, but I’d never seen such crowded streets in real life. Until then.
This next year was your last year, potentially, to have any say in your child’s Halloween costume. Or at least you feared it might be. So you brainstormed and agreed that since you all three loved “Doctor Who,” you’d be going as “Doctor Who” characters. And your crafty and creative husband laid out costume templates. And it worked out well. So even though you were moving to a house and just bought a car and might fall over from stress-related causes, you were game.
Halloween. It’s sacred. Then tell that to the freak snowstorm BLIZZARD that blew in, blew out your power for 48 hours (and that’s if you’re lucky) and blew all of your Halloween plans. Even though our towns rallied and postponed Halloween plans until Saturday, November 5th. Even though your husband and daughter rallied, you couldn’t rally. The Halloween that never was.
So not only did I miss Halloween, I missed “Fakeoween” – the term that my good friend’s son came up with. I wasn’t feeling well (which I couldn’t admit why then) and I’m not one who can walk around in the cold happily even during healthy times. I was really disappointed. My heart was a little broken. The saving grace was when Scarlet and Cassidy came home and she climbed into my lap and said, “Do you feel better, Mama?” “I love my Mama.” And of course, “Are you happy?” And I was happy. Honestly, I was happy that she missed me as much as I missed her.
And, me? I was a sickly Tardis. And just like how in many episodes, the Tardis is broken or faulty or in mortal peril, or just strangely absent, I was suffering a brief technical breakdown myself.
I’m linking up with Finish The Sentence Friday (FTSF) for another challenging prompt. This week’s topic is “Halloween..” And there’s time to write yours. Link up HERE.