I love Halloween. I really do. Not the scare yourself silly, haunted house, horror film type of Halloween, but all the other stuff involved in Halloween I enjoy greatly. This morning, though, wasn't so much enjoyment, as it was yelling, pleading, and heart palpitations. This morning was Dylan's first school Halloween party.
For an incredibly active kid, Dylan moves VEEERRRRYYYY SLLOOOWWWLLLYYY. When you want him to get somewhere by a certain time, he suddenly morphs into Slow Motion Boy. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's Slow Motion Boy. He can leap over tall buildings, but first he needs to line these toys up, turn lights out all over the house, and count all the pumpkin decorations on the way out the door. It is hard enough getting him to school on time on regular days. I knew today, (which involved a costume) was going to be rough.
So, when my husband (whom I love dearly), jumped out of bed ONE MINUTE before my alarm went off, and jumped in the shower, I might have gone completely ballistic. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? YOU COULDN'T HAVE PICKED A BETTER DAY TO DO THIS!!" There might have been more yelling involved. He was about to leave the house when I screamed, "OH, AND NOW YOU ARE JUST GOING TO LEAVE WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE?!?" Yes, it was a beautiful moment between a man and his loving wife.
When Dylan woke up and didn't want to get out of bed, even though he was soaking wet, I knew what kind of morning it would be. Then, he insisted that I change the sheets before I put dry clothes on him. Then, came the "I NEED to"s. There are always things he NEEDS to do first, before doing what I want him to do.
Somehow we made it through breakfast. Somehow we made it through me drying my hair and getting myself dressed, although I had to stop about every ten minutes because I heard a crash, or he was screaming "MOMMY?", or he was too quiet and I had to investigate. By the time I needed to put on his costume I was already tired. Then I tried to put the super flimsy pants on, while he was only half standing still. Then I put the top on, and he started whining and pulling at the collar. "It's itchy. Itchy! ITCHY!!" I could just feel that any minute the fabric was going to tear and I started to panic and talk in slightly crazy mommy speak. "O-Kay-we-will-put-on-a-tshirt-under-it-and-then-it-won't-itch-O-Kay?-O-Kay. O-kay-This-will-be-fine-I-need-to-remember-to-keep-breathing-O-Kay"
By the time I met my parents at the school later for the parade I was breathing normally, and could even see the humor in the situation. When Dylan came out with his hat crooked and blood on his face from a bloody nose, well, it just fit.