If we were having coffee, one of us would be late, probably you. You had been to a Halloween party last night, and the we had the annual time change. The time changes always mess us up when we have appointments, and I would normally be late, too. This year, though, for better or worse, my little time keeper will make sure I recognize the extra hour. You apologize and things spill out of your bag as you rush to get here. I offer to fetch you a cup while you get settled. You thank me when I come back and ask me how the Wee One adjusted to the time change. I roll my eyes and tell about what high hopes I had as I sat in in my running car listening to spooky classical music as she napped in her car seat. She’s struggling today, I reflect.
You ask how she did with the costume I was so excited about. She hated the hat with the yellow yarn on it, and the hat really made the costume. Sometimes I could get her to wear it and other times I just didn’t have the heart. I took her trick or treating in a mall. It doesn’t matter so much for her this year since she’s so small, but I wanted the candy. I think the people at the stores knew that, and they gave me the crap candy – suck candy. They kind of rolled their eyes at me, but since I had a real baby with me, had to play along. I also went shopping and bought some clothes for her. I dressed her up for church today, and then I felt like a slob in comparison. I had to dress nicer, too. This child is going to have better style than I do, and force me to step up my game.
If we were having coffee, we would exchange motherhood sob stories. I’ve been feeding the Wee One solids, I tell you, and I have not always been prepared for the way her healthy body processes it. And what’s more, our washer and dryer went out this week. So I was scrubbing soiled clothes in the bathtub until someone graciously allowed me to use her washer and dryer. Your expression of amazement recalls the feeling I had reading the offers, amazed and truly humbled. I have a lot of things to pay forward, I tell you, and you raise your eyebrows over your coffee cup in agreement.
A small family walks by us and a little boy is whining to his mother about giving him some candy she has in her purse, presumably from last night.
You tell me about your costume last night; nothing truly elaborate, but you pull out a pink feather boa that you keep for special occasions, and a Mardi Gras mask. I love dressing up, I tell you, and I love being around other people who are dressed up. I know its not real and a little absurd, but its fun. Kind of like what’s so awesome at Disney World – we know it’s silly but we’ll wear our ears with pride.
I tell you that I need to get home. Cohiba has been sick this weekend and finally just now feels good enough to be with the Wee One. There used to be a time that he could push through something like a cough or tiredness, but now, with a family weighing on him, he can’t just do that anymore. I realize how I depend on him to be the best kind of mommy I can be.