Missing Witch’s hat and Vomiting

I guess I should join the rest of the moms and talk about Halloween.  Unfortunately mine started the night before Halloween when I couldn’t find the witch’s hat for Evan’s costume, which means he believed he was a bat, a monster, a black knight.  Ok, whatever.  After my husband finally made it home, we loaded the kids in the car and went the city Halloween celebration, which was packed because we got there so late.  For some reason it felt like begging for candy and made my husband and I feel kind of weird.  Maybe it was all the kids with half-assed costumes (but that could have been valid reasons, right?), or maybe it was the fact that the lines became one giant line shuffling from store to store for one little piece of candy.  Any ways we left after an hour as Evan munched on candy.


He proceeded to munch on candy at home, asking one parent and then the other.  (Note: Must always ask the other parent if the child is asking for something.)  Then he told me he hid his candy when I told him no more.  It turns out he hid it in his mouth while he was hiding from me.  I found Starburst wrappers under the computer desk the next day. 


Then about 9:30 Evan started crying from his bed, and I ran up to chase away any monsters to find that he threw up.  Stupid candy.  Stupid husband who had to run an errand.  As I rushed around the room trying to figure out what to do first – clean the kid up, clean the sheets, shut the door, find the sheets – I silently cursed my husband.   Ok, grab towels and run the hot water for wash clothes.  Shut the door to keep Sean from waking up.  Dump the kid onto a towel on the floor.  Strip the child.  Murmur reassurances, and run to the bathroom to soak the washcloths in the now warm water.  Wipe down the child with more murmuring of reassurances, and quickly find any shirt (ANY SHIRT) to put the child in.  Put the child in the only other safe bed that he’ll stay in, mom’s and dad’s.  Then as you strip the bed you hear the garage door opening, and thank God he’s home.  Of course, the bed’s stripped and half made by the time the husband’s upstairs.  And being the kind hearted mother and wife, you have the husband soothe the child as you rinse the vomit out of the sheets in the kitchen and dump them on heavy load in the wash.  All the while, I have the following paragraph running in my head:


“Paloma, Patrick is throwing up!” I would tell her, and she would literally run to his room, clean the sheets, change his pajamas, spread a clean towel on his pillow, feed him ice chips, sing to him.  I would stand in the doorway, concerned, making faces at Patrick to cheer him up – the way my father did when I was sick and my mother was taking care of me. – Caitlin Flanagan, The Hell with All That: Loving and Loathing your Inner Housewife


Now you know why I hate her book so much.


Well, the night progressed with me coming to bed two hours later and catching Evan’s vomit in a bowl I had ready.  No, I didn’t want him to sleep in our bed because I didn’t want vomit in my hair.  But the pleas coming from both male occupants of the bed and the lucky catch made me agree.  And I was able to catch the vomit several more times and administer Motrin for the fever that ensued. 


So no ghost pancakes for Halloween, only ghost toast.  Sean enjoyed the roll up sandwiches to look like a back bone.  (Ok, I didn’t have my Halloween party; I need this.)  Evan instructed from the couch how I should cut the pumpkin as I wondered how I was going to get another witch’s hat.  As I put the boys to nap, missing my blog reading, as I talked on the phone to my old roommate and my best friend, I made brownies to shape into coffins, replaced the falling stars on the robe, and cleaned the living room and dining room up so trick-or-treating parents didn’t believe we lived in squalor.  When my husband came home to admit he forgot the hat and to assume child watching duties, I made broomstick breadsticks and a pizza with a cheese cobweb on it.  Did I ever mention I love Halloween?


We trick-or-treated early with Evan waving around a glow stick like a light saber.  Poor Evan was done after half a dozen houses, but Sean wanted to visit every house, so I had to hold him back.  I insisted on visiting our teenage babysitter’s house that’s two doors down.  (Yes, we are lucky, but she’s also young and extremely busy.)  There Evan gave every one the battery-operated tea lights that were decorating the house, insisting they will keep away monsters.  The mom was so thrilled by the idea of giving away the decorations she didn’t need and how cute Evan was, we ended up with a dozen of our own.  Yes, I find the lights cute.  With the safety of home, Evan stripped out of his costume and crashed on the couch.  But both boys had to greet every trick-or-treater, or “Halloween friends” as Evan called them, when ever the door bell rang.


At the end of the night, after the boys went to bed, the trick-or-treaters became teenagers.  Now I subscribe to my mother’s theory: better trick-or-treating than causing trouble.  So I loaded these teenagers up with candy.  Besides I had tons, and I am a recovering sugar addict.  Then when I went to bring in our jack-o-lantern so I could carve it up for breads, I noticed it was gone.  Those stupid teenagers!  Back in my day we had honor and would never steal decorations from a house who gave us candy, especially if it was loads of candy.  My husband didn’t understand why they would take it.  Oh, pumpkin smashing fun.


Oh, and yes, Evan is still sick, throwing up dinner from last night (he insisted on pizza, and yes, I’m an idiot for letting him eat it) and breakfast of peanut butter sandwiches (ok, I’m a slow learner).  It just better not be the flu.





Tornado E and Halloween

This morning Tornado E came down the stairs dancing.  Tornado S laughed and joined him.  Not being a morning person, I secretly thanked God for Tornado S waking up earlier than Tornado E so that I could at least act perky instead of giving my why-is-it-still-dark-and-why-am-I-up look that goes along when any cheerful morning person comes into a room.  Of course, I also asked God for Tornado S to sleep in later, and I swear I heard laughing.  Got it.  Morning kids for night owl parents.  Get used to it because school is just around the corner.

Before I could even open my mouth to begin to repeat “What do you want for breakfast, waffle or muffin?” a dozen times, Tornado E shouts, “HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!  I’m ready to go trick-or-treating!!”  Pause for effect and look at the baffled Mommy.  “You’re ready for trick-or-treating!!”

I am?

“You’re dressed as a Mommy!!!”  Tornado E dances around the room to the thought of costumes and candy.  No, I did not put that many exclamation marks on there as a joke; he actually shouted everything from the top of his lungs.

I quietly and gently explained the Halloween was still over a week away, and I showed him the Halloween calendar.  It burst his bubble enough to get me to repeatedly ask him what he wanted for breakfast until he asked for pancakes.  He threatened a fit if he didn’t get his precious pancakes, and I said then throw it in your room.  Sure, he wants them now when I’m not making them, so I compromised.  I left him a dry bowl of Honey-Nut Cheerios and a glass of milk on his little table.  Eat.  Or don’t.  I don’t care.

Of course, now that Tornado E could choose to eat or not and Tornado S was starting to circle the little table like the little feeding-frenzy shark that he was, Tornado E decided to sit down and eat the Cheerios.  All the while, Tornado S is looking at me with those starving-kids-in-Africa look in his eyes.  Didn’t you eat a banana and a muffin already?  Fine, here’s your own bowl of Cheerios. 

After breakfast, I decided to show Tornado E his cape for his costume.  I am quite proud because I was able to pull it off even though I nearly destroyed the thing.  I guess I can confess to you, and if my mom reads it, she’ll wonder if I ever was listening to her the dozen times she tried to teach me to sew.

As you might remember, Tornado E is going to be a witch, and I bought black material for the “robe.”  Think angel or shepherd costume but black.  The directions mention a 7 and half inch whole.  I cut a slit as I assume that what they meant, and it seemed to me that it would be too small, so I made it bigger.  It fit right over Tornado E’s head, shoulder, and waist.  Hmm.  As the hole is in the exact middle of the material and that I thought that adding a collar might be to complicated and unmanly, I bought more material and decided to make Tornado E a cape with black lining as Tornado E and his father simultaneously suggested. 

As I was about to make the cape, I realized that the hole will still be cutting into the cape, and that I needed a folded edge to measure and cut around as the center.  I did what any person in over her head would do; I sewed the other side, making my fold.  I attempted this while my brain was somewhere else and the boys were awake and instantly drawn to the sound of the sewing machine.

Flashback moment: Imagine two young children around second and third grade.  They notice their mother didn’t put away the sewing machine, and they gather around it to investigate it.  The way it stood, yet seem to lean, forcing its energy and focal point all to the left of the machine, to the needle.  The boy suggests that he put his finger under the nail and his sister turn the dial to see how close they could get the needle to the finger.  Slowly, slowly, the sister turns the knob.  Then something happens, and her fingers slip.  The needle drives its way through the fingernail and into the boy’s finger who is screaming at the top of his lungs.  Their mother comes running, releases the boy.  She pulls him along as she demands the answer from the oldest, the girl, who stammers the whole story with agreeing wails from the brother as his finger is tended to.  The mother looks at the girl and commands, “You’re older; you should have known better.”

Ok, that’s it.  No sewing while the boys are awake.  And that is the ugliest seam ever sewn.  Thank God it’ll be on the inside.  When the boys were finally tucked in for the night, I traced out the pattern and cut it to find I got a little carried away and cut part of the seam.  Since I can hand sew pretty well, I stitched it up and used the machine on the rest of the cape.  Which turned out amazingly well. 

So I showed Tornado E his cape, and he was so excited to try it on.  I placed his witch’s hat on as well as the cape.  As I finished tying the bow around his neck, he looked dubiously at the cape, messing with its folds.  It dawned on me that he was looking for the sleeves.  I tried to explain that capes don’t have sleeves.  Giving up, I asked if he wanted to see mine.  (My mom made it for me for Halloween one year.)  I placed the cape on, settling it on my shoulders.

Tornado E: (gasps) Mommy, you’re a witch! (I nod.)  Put your hat on!

Me: I don’t have a hat.  But I have a hood on my cape.  (I gently placed on my hood with elegance practiced that Halloween.)

Tornado E: You’re not a witch!  You’re Darth Vader!  You’re Star Wars!

Ok, my son has no idea what a cape is.  I’m trying to think of a movie with a cape to show him other than Star Wars.

Finally a Halloween decision

To recap (Witch or Faery and Halloween Indecision), Evan has wanted to be a witch, a ghost, a witch, a purple ghost, a bat, a witch, a princess, a fairy, a witch, and a spider.  Seeing that the common theme always runs back to a witch, I thought well why the hell not.  My husband is uneasy about the costume, worrying about homosexual tendencies or counseling sessions involving accusations of parents forcing a poor defenseless child to cross-dress.  He has so little faith in me.


As Evan has been talking off and on about being a boy witch for almost two months, I have been planning a costume in my head.  I’m going to make him a simple gown or robe as my husband states men wear robes, not gowns.  Right.  I plan on sewing stars all over the “robe.”  If I’m truly ambitious, I might just make a cape for Evan too.  Since Evan has realized witches have brooms, he insisted on having one too with a hat, just as he’s insisting Sean be a Halloween pumpkin.


As for Sean, I was planning on making him a vampire because he’s back to giving me love bites.  Lucky me.  But Evan has been adamant for two months that Sean be a Halloween pumpkin aka a jack-o-lantern, even going so far as to suggest Daddy would want to be a pumpkin too.  And I laughed.  Because I found some great no-sew costumes online, one being a tomato, I thought why not let Evan decide for Sean.  It’s not like Sean cares any way.  Funny, Evan had somewhat a deciding voice in his costume as being a cowboy at that age, granted his grandma did force him into the cowboy boots the first time, which he wanted to wear every day after.  Sean will make a great little pumpkin.


Yesterday I loaded up the boys and headed to Wal-mart, the one stop shop for house supplies, clothes, and crafts and when I need to save cash.  After heading straight to the toddler clothing department, I looked everywhere for an orange sweatshirt for Sean’s pumpkin costume.  And wouldn’t you know, boys don’t like to wear orange sweatshirts, and they didn’t carry any.  Who could blame them?  Luckily older boys apparently will wear orange long sleeved shirts, so I got one, hoping it will work just as well as a sweatshirt.  Then after winding our way through the store, grabbing necessary items and asking Evan to hurry up and not to touch that again, we found ourselves in the craft department, where I proceeded to find the type of material I wanted in the last aisle I looked.  Figures.


 So, Evan, which one do you want, blue, purple, or black?  Evan, pay attention.  No, Evan, we’re not getting that material.  Do you want purple, blue, or black?  Evan.  Evan.  Sean, stay in your seat; here have a pen to play with.  Evan, which one?  No, not that one.  Get up and come over here, Evan.  I swear child I am going to pick for you.   Evan.  Blue?  No.  Ok.  Purple? Black!  Ok, black.  And some silver.  Come on; don’t touch.  Evan, we don’t need marbles.  Put them back.  Put them back now.  Come here.  Sean, get down.  Evan, stop touching the material.  Don’t touch that either.  Don’t uh-oh; you threw the pen on purpose; you meant to.  Please, god.


So after we got the material cut, with Evan telling me he know wants to be a spider as he trails me through the crafts as I pick up some more materials for the costumes.  I have now gone to the zen place, where I actually don’t hear him any more, just white noise.  We sweep into the Halloween section as I keep a careful eye on Evan, who was frightened of Halloween stuff last year due to an incident with a life size monster.  (Chalk one up for Daddy)  Far from frightened, Evan pointed out what costumes he liked and what he wanted.  Then I picked up the hat, a witch’s hat with a spider dangling from the top and a ribbon of black tulle with sparkles.  “I WANT THAT!” Evan cried, rushing to put it on his head.  He danced around the aisle as I figured I could remove the ribbon and had one of those glow necklaces for trick-or-treating.  Then I grabbed a broom.  That cinched the deal.  Hat on, broom dragging behind him, Evan followed me through the rest of the store as I got the last few items on the list; while, Sean ehh-ed and ahh-ed for the broom.


So now I have to make the costumes, which I’m a little timid to do because I haven’t sewn anything harder than a blanket in years.  I’m sure once I start it’ll be a piece of cake, and I’ll laugh at my worries.  But until then . . . .  I just better start now so I stop second guessing myself, and if I actually do mess up, I will still have time to buy more material and ask my mom for help.




Halloween Indecision

First it was a witch.  A boy witch.

Then Evan wanted to be a ghost.  Who can blame him?  The Haunted Mansion ghosts are cool.

Then Saturday he tried to decide between a princess in a castle or a faery in a castle.  Yes, I did ask, “Do you mean a prince?”  He assured me he wanted to be a princess.  Then he saw the faery costumes in the catalogue, and he declared he wanted to be a faery.  Unfortunately we were on the phone with my father-in-law who said there were no boy faeries.  Oh yeah, what about Oberon or Puck?  Give me some credit; I’m not going to put him in a dress with tights.  I’ll figure something out.

Today he wanted to be a purple witch or a purple ghost.  When I mentioned I’ve never seen a purple ghost and that they are usually white.  Evan declared he will be a purple boy witch along with Papi, Grandma, Grandma-great. 

I hate to stiffle his creativity.  I promise to keep it in context with society on some level.  I can’t wait to show him the pictures when he’s ten and hates girls.  I just better make the costume soon or who knows what he’ll come up with.