For Halloween I decided to be Supermom. I figure if I channel this fictitious super-heroine then maybe I will become her, "Be the ball, Danny." Right?! So here I go...
My day started at 6:30am with Reid bounding in shouting 4 inches from my face, "Happy Halloween Mommy!" You would have thought it was Christmas morning. I found this excitement puzzling since he still hadn't figured out what he was going to be for Halloween, and because he's continued to say over the previous week, "I hope we see the Easter Bunny!" He also refers to yesterday as last week and thinks when he grows up he's going to marry me. I love this confusion, it reminds me he's only been alive for 4 years.
So I roll out of bed and begin my normal routine, but today I'm Supermom, so I'm doing it with grace, ease, style, and a bit of finesse, at least that's my plan. Parker has assumed his alter-ego as Colin Kaepernick and is in the garden playing PFL (Parker Football League). His one-man football games are truly inspiring to watch. As quarterback he starts the play with a deep-throated, guttural yell that I'm sure resonates down the street crashing into people's mornings, "Red Right, 62...Kill, Kill! Hike!" Then he "passes" the ball by throwing it up in the air, catching it, and running the play. He'll also throw in clapping, crowd cheering, and some woops and woots for the well-rounded football experience. I wish him a good morning and a, "Happy Halloween Kaepy!" as he updates me on the game asking if I want to see a replay of the touchdown he just made - well of course! I trip over a wiggly, chatty, and hungry Bodi as I walk into the kitchen to assume my position - ok, commence feeding and watering of offspring.
I continue to bob and weave through the morning rituals and gems of unexpected cannonballs thrown my direction; scraping dog poo off Parker's shoe, prying scissors out of Reid's hands as he cuts leaves on the hedge - reminding him that plants are alive and he's killing nature - say, "Parker get dressed!" at least 6 times, wrangle Reid into his clothes after his spontaneous gymnast performance, and then there's teeth brushing, the Lex Luthor to my Supermom.
Brushing teeth always involves singing, dancing, hugging, tugging, zipping, twirling - all while trying to brush teeth. Whoever said men weren't multi-taskers have never met my boys. Maybe that's something lost in puberty. I'm amazed at the shit they try and pull-off while brushing teeth! It's all usually met with my wide eyes and gritted teeth, "Just. Stand. Still. Stop touching me!" But today I'm Supermom so I do all the singing, dancing, hugging, etc, and they're laughing so hard they can't wriggle and combust.
Ok, almost out the door. I lean down to tie Parker's shoes while Reid jumps on my back, little fists balled under my chin stealing my breath away, "Mommy, I'm your cape!" - how fitting. The cheeky monkey draped on my back is in fact what makes me Supermom. On y va!
Parker arrives at school with a minute to spare - Supermom, always prompt, yet teetering on tardy. Reid and I have grand plans for the day - hitting the gym (my sanity hour), grocery shopping, laundry, and dog walking. We attack our day with gusto, as two superheroes would; Supermom and Super-Reido!
Upon Parker retrieval Reid falls, probably because he saw something shiny, and bloodies his knee. After screams and shouts of, "Don't look at it, don't look at it!" we resort to side-stepping, kind of like a zombie sideways crawl, the remainder of the block to school because that leg "doesn't work anymore." Parker runs out with a toothless grin shouting, "Halloween!" Oh right, I'm Supermom I can champion this energy. We locate the side-stepper who's running freely and swinging on bars only to resume side-trudge as soon as I come into view. I'm assured a smoothie will fix his knee and give him "power" to walk again. In the meantime he's weak and needs to be carried. I give in against the incessant parenting voice in my head saying, "NOOOO!" I heave him up while emitting an unattractive, ughhhh sound, knowing that he's getting blood on my shirt. Oh my little R2, Super-Reido, he transforms into my baby koala and clings to me while whispering, "Mommy, I love you." This kid is the kryptonite to my Supermomness.
We journey home and commence next phase of day. Smoothie made, knee fixed - check. Salad made for Halloween sausage sizzle - check. Trick-or-treating bags located - ummm, hmmm, begin search - fail! Sand buckets rinsed and ready to use as trick-or-treating bags - check. Break up PFL game and Octonaut play amidst groans - check. These kids have NO sense of urgency! Ok, out the door again!
We arrive at our friend's house for an afternoon of trick-or-treating and a sausage sizzle. We kick it off with 5 boys and end the evening with 13 boys ages 3-7, running amok in the garden, all chowing on Halloween lollies. No joke. It's a Halloween (not Festivus) miracle that only 2 kids were flung off the non-netted trampoline, only one child was lost during the trick-or-treating mayhem, and only one rock was hurled - unfortunately at my car. But there were sausages sizzled and thankfully a glass of wine.
Things one might have heard during this testosterone filled Halloween afternoon:
1) "Don't step on his face!"
2) "Only one lollie in your mouth at a time."
3) "Watch out for my wine glass!"
4) "Please put your underpants back on."
5) "He'll come home eventually."
We leave Halloween celebration with minimal whines and resistance and arrive home to a jumping, hungry Bodi and the bedtime tasks ahead. Ok Supermom, this is the home stretch!
The evening teeth brushing episode is much the same as the am version but they are hopped up on lollies, bare-bottomed, and running witlessly around while screeching like wounded animals. Then they pause, start producing giggly sounds while shaking their hips to and fro making their little penises jostle; that's a nature thing, not nurture - have penis, must wiggle it - I get it, I would.
Ok, sugar cleansed from chompers, naked bodies clothed in Star Wars jammies. In bed. They sugar crashed after 5 minutes. Good night my little heroes, until we do it again tomorrow.
I retire to the outside lounge and watch the day's final color of buttery ginger fade from the sky as the bats swoop in for their nocturnal frolic. I sip, (gulp really) a goblet of Shiraz and reflect on my day. I believe daily self-reflection is the mark of any human who aspires to be decent, kind, worthy, and moral. Upon today's self-reflection I say to myself - I was a good Supermom this Halloween. But then I realize, as I take another sip of my red, that I'm Supermom everyday, not just on Halloween.
