Cupcakes and Lion Poop.

The Halloween marathon is over now. The web on the front of the house is full of dead leaves and the top of my jack-o-lantern has been carried off by the squirrels. After a week of school closures, two feet of snow and a last minute costume change by Miss 8-i-TUDE, I thought it WOULD NEVER BE OVER. 

As I’m racing to the costume store to return the first costume on Tuesday (trying to beat the snow storm AND make it to meet up with the gals at The Empire), I have a quick catch up with Mima. She says, “I don’t know many moms who’d be doing all this.” To which I said, “I know. That’s why mom made me be a gypsy every year. Or a hobo. Or that year I was sick of both and she said, ‘okay, you’re a hooker.’” “She did not!” Yes. She did. But I was only 10 and didn’t know what it meant. So I threw on the fishnets and ran off. Happy to finally be free of all those damn necklaces, head scarf and hoop earrings that pinched. The old man at one of the first houses gave me the up-and-down and said, “And what are you?” “A hooker!” The poor man almost dropped his candy bowl. And I’ve pretty much hated Halloween ever since. Well, not really...(But it adds an extra punch to the story if I let you think I'm all scarred. And it gives me a pretty damned good reason to avoid having to don a stupid costume.)

But I’m not bitter. No. Quite the contrary. In fact, I almost killed myself to fit it all in — massive snow storm be damned. I made the 5 dozen+ cupcakes from scratch. And tracked down vegetable-based orange food coloring so the icing would be just-so without being tainted. Chose to forsake my mounting pile of work and baked my ass off while the snow ground everything else in the world to a halt outside. 

We finally dug out on Friday and it was party time. Raced to school #1 to drop off a butterfly. Barely beating the bell. Then it was on to school #2 to man the obstacle course and hold down the fort for the preschool fest. That one ended just in time to race home, gobble lunch, answer email, send off a proof and run out to party #2. Bean (the NICE lion) and I jumped in the car — already late — and got up to school just in time to realize everyone else was late too. Fighting the snow mounds at every curb — and 100 other parents delivering their goods — I finally parked 3 blocks away, grabbed Bean, jumped the huge slush pile with her on my hip and started hoofing up the hill. It was about this time that I started thinking about the second set of cupcakes and how they were still sitting at home in the fridge. I seriously thought about just leaving them there. But.

So back to the car. Bean: “But Mom! We’re gonna lose our parking space!” Uh. Yea. Back down the hill. Home. Race in. Grab cupcakes. (And coat. Forgot that the first time too.) Gun it back in time to find a second parking spot four blocks away. Grab the cupcakes and turn back to Bean. Sound asleep. Argh! I’m literally choosing the cupcakes again over all else. Wake her up. “Gotta go, bean.” Party #2.

After the school festivities, it was off to a local realty who goes all out for more trick-or-treat fun. We walked there from Purse Girl’s. On the way, there’s this pile of dog poo and one of the girls (not one of mine) steps right in it. I say (to my potty-trained lion), “At least it wasn’t LION poop!” And she promptly squats and pretends to make her own — catching her tutu on a bush. After a dis-entangling procedure, we finally re-catch the group and have some trick-or-treat fun a day early. 

We survived. It was fun. And now it’s the juggling act of a week of solo parenting. The fun never ends. And when I went to pick up Bean from school on Monday (after an extended day due to meetings) they tell me that she just asked..."Am I going to be here forever?" Luckily I showed up just before she became official property of the preschool.

TODAY'S THEME SONG: Flyin' Shoes. Lyle. Alone and then. Her silver sails again. And they will follow in their flyin' shoes.