Here we are in early November. And I survived Halloween! Hooray!
I made it through a long pumpkin patch field trip, the usual classroom festivities, plus the begging for candy at sundown on the 31st (even though I wasn't the adult to actually partake in the canvassing of the neighborhood).
This year, J. and I opted out of our annual kids' throwdown. The party began as a way for us to give Max something fun to do during which I controlled all the food in his vicinity, ensuring he could gorge himself on whatever candy or cookies he wanted without, you know, going anaphylactic. The halloween party was something that, as an unentertainer, I dreaded. All the kids! The cooking! The cleaning! The bickering spiral that J. and I would inevitably slide down! It was horrible! The only redeeming thing about it was that Max and Claire had tons of fun.
Still, this year halloween fun had to take a backseat to sanity.
So, we promised the kids extra trick-or-treating. Which, considering that in the past they only visited three houses, wasn't hard to improve upon.
And yet…I can't bring myself to be the one to take them. Everytime someone hands Max a Reeses or a Snickers, a little bit of my heart melts away. I know, I know. Boo-hoo, people are giving my kid free candy and it's awful!! But that's how it affects me.
Thankfully, the good and kind (and not usually bickery) J. who doesn't weep every time Max politely accepts something he's allergic to, took the kids while I stayed home doing dishes and sipping pumpkin ale. Not a bad trade off. At least for me.
Lately I've been quizzing Max and Claire about quality time. "Would you rather have me volunteer in your class and do things to help your teacher, or just hang out with you guys?" Of course, they answer, "Just hang out with us!" I'll ask, "Do you consider my cooking dinner while you sit and talk to me as 'hanging out'?" "No!" they chorus. "What about this?" I say. "What we're doing right now? Reading and chatting? Is this quality? Is this hanging out?" They agree it is.
They're little black holes of neediness. They're attention-seeking missiles. But still I feel like I'm not giving enough.
I hate being referred to as a "Mommy Blogger". My boss does it. Some of my friends do it. I blog about lots of things! But this post isn't helping my case, is it?
(This little experiment in blogging daily is really difficult for me. Not the writing part, but the posting of the boring details of my life. If you're looking for insights or wry observations during November, move along. This is going to be a glorified diary. And now, with a grimace and twitching fingers, I hit Publish.)