A Lesson on Halloween

So today is Halloween. After much internal conflict and the realization that it was going to be cold and wet and the Bean did not want anything to do with a costume, I decided that we would not participate in trick-or-treat. Instead, we'd have a lovely homemade pizza dinner and gather as a family around the table to carve and paint pumpkins. A beautiful scene, no?

Then 6:00 rolled around. Despite our lack of porch illumination, the doorbell rang. "Mommy mommy!  Somebody's heeeere! Come on, Mom!" Oh, NO, I think, my heart sinking as I shove a bite of pizza in my mouth. Because Bean is already at the door, peeking out at the children waiting outside, and the dogs are making mayhem, I join her and open it. I feel like the lamest neighbor in the world as I say, "Sorry guys, we don't have any candy this year. But can we see your costumes?" Did I mention Bean was naked? Bean was naked.

This same scene plays several times over, and Bean begs me to go outside so she can "watch Halloween." So we get dressed, bundle up, and then we do. We stand in our driveway, watching fairies and zombies and Super Mario stroll by. Bean loves this. It's like her own personal parade. Eventually crowds dwindle and we go back inside to paint pumpkins. Bean does this with gusto for about 6 minutes, then declares that she is done and wants to go back outside. Now I'm feeling horrible. I should have at least bought candy! I'm thinking. As I drag my hormonal self to grab my jacket, and Bean runs to the door, I involuntarily burst into tears. The husband is nearby and pulls me close. "I feel like the worst Mom in the world!" "You most definitely are not that," he says.

Then it happens. My little reality check in the flesh comes running at me. "Mommy! Don't worry, Mommy! Don't cry! It's okay, Mommy. Let's go outside. OK? Don't worry. You okay?" Wow. Just wow. These are the moments you can't prepare for, never anticipate, and that are such a huge part of the blessing that is parenthood. Of course, I cried more. Bean had stopped me dead in my tracks. I was feeling down about having conscientiously decided not to participate in a traditional Halloween. But she didn't care. She cared that we were decorating pumpkins and watching a parade of costumes pass by our very own driveway. So we went back outside. And froze.  And every time a group of people approached our driveway, Bean declared loudly, "Sorry! No candy this year! We don't have any candy this year!" And still we met a zombie, a punk rocker, and Buzz Lightyear. The neighbor kids were actually really enthusiastic about just showing off their costumes. And it was perfect.

Painting Pumpkins on Halloween

I often stop to remind myself that children are not born with expectations, but as Bean grows older and seems to know more about everything, it has become easier to forget that statement is still true. Life truly is about the moment and what you make it; not about what we've been trained to expect it to be.