On spooky things

One of the utterly fun (and by this I mean frequently exasperating) things about parenting a kid with anxiety issues is that he is scared. Of. Everything. Of being in a room by himself, anytime, ever. Of unexplainable noises. Of seeing "The Wizard of Oz" even though he's already read the book and seen the play version. Come on, kiddo, we have it on Blu-ray! You already know the ending! (It's been a point of contention.)

October, obviously, is not the best month for us.

Kiddo is scared of the spooky placemats on our dining room table. He had a near-meltdown in front of the Halloween store because of the scary clown mannequin parked in a chair near the entrance, and the only way I even got him in the store was by telling him to close his eyes and grab my hand. He is, every year, so freaked out by any sort of spooky-ooky house decoration that he will refuse to go near the front door even though there is candy waiting.

And while part of my frustration is that I feel bad for him and want to help him not be scared, the rest is totally that I love Halloween. I like spooky things. I was reading Poe in grade school. (Admittedly, probably not a good idea.) Neil Gaiman is one of my favorite writers. "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" is -- still -- my favorite TV show. I like over-the-top gravestone-bedecked houses. I like gap-toothed jack o' lanterns. I like "The Monster Mash."

I guess I'm just baffled that my love of these things did not, in any way, genetically pass on to my son.

His behavioral therapist has been working with him on the anxiety issue. And I've been trying, gently, to put things in perspective for him.

I told him all about the first haunted house I remember ever going to, and how I was secretly terrified of all the ghosties and eerie candles and things jumping out at me, but I didn't want anyone to know that, so I skipped my way through chanting, "I'm not scared, I'm not scared." At least I think I skipped.

Kiddo was fascinated. Now he wants me to tell him about every single haunted house I've ever entered, ever, and what I saw there, and was it scary.

So I've told him about the haunted house his Aunt C.'s church put on, and how we saw her there, and she stopped pretending to stab a roll of paper towels to say hi to us. (Sorry, C. I'm sure you're thrilled I told that one.) I've told him about the Haunted Mansion at Disney World, and how the floor drops in one room and you see more of the silly-spooky pictures on the walls. DH reminded me about the haunted house and maze at Sterling Forest.

I don't know if it's helping, these haunted house stories. At least kiddo sees that we went in them and lived to tell the tale.

Maybe he never gets into Halloween. Maybe it's too much to ask of him. But I hate the idea of October being this trial for him, something he has to close his eyes and cover his ears just to get through.

He does like the candy, though. So there's that.

Halloween: A Postmortem

Superman and the strawberry had a fine time. They each got parades and parties at their respective schools, and then came back here and dragged me halfway around the neighborhood, and then had pumpkin macaroni and cheese for dinner (sounds odd but is good), and eventually we were able to get them to bed.

I took a half-day from work to catch kiddo's parade and to handle trick or treat duties. (There was no way I could make both parades unless I skipped work altogether, but skipping work altogether seemed like a bit much. DH and MIL attended kiddette's parade.) I'm always kind of fascinated by what the neighborhood is like during the day, when I'm not there. It's like a glimpse into the stay-at-home moms' world. Although actually there were quite a few dads at the parade too; either they all work two minutes away from the school, or they skipped work.

At any rate there was a crowd of adults lining either side of the sidewalk outside the school along with MIL and me, and then "Monster Mash" blasted out from the speakers and out came the kids. ("Monster Mash" continued to repeat, scratchily, for the entire parade. If there's one song you shouldn't listen to 10 times in a row, this is probably the one.) Kindergarten first, then the first-graders, and as I was frantically fumbling with the camera to capture Super-kiddo I heard a happy shout: "Mommy!" And hearing that made the whole half-day worth it.

Trick or treating went ... well, pretty much as I should've expected. Kiddo refused to go up to one house at all because there was a fake dead guy in the driveway. He was nearly scared off a couple other places because of dogs. (We are clearly never getting a dog. Okay by me, since I'm more of a cat person.) He insisted I walk him up to all houses after that, holding his hand. The irony of a kid in a Superman costume acting less than brave was not lost on me. I pointed this out to him, but it didn't help. I guess dogs and scary decorations are his kryptonite.


One of our neighbors was giving out whistles instead of candy. I'm sure she thought she was helping break the candy cycle, or something. I'm also sure her house was soundproofed. Because throughout the neighborhood, you could tell which kids had been to her house by the piercing sounds echoing through the streets. Kiddo, adorably, thought they were all sending messages to each other via the whistles. Sure, and the message was: "All I got was this lousy whistle so I'm going to break some eardrums!"

Really the kids around here are pretty nice, though. They all say thank you when taking candy and they ask before taking extra (I always let them). At one point when kiddette was coming down the steps of one house, she slipped (it had been raining) and fell. One of the older boys passing us stopped to ask if she was okay, and helped pick up her dropped loot. Very sweet.

(Incidentally, I was totally kidding about parents driving the kids from house to house in the rain, but I swear some parents were doing just that. It wasn't even raining that hard. Wusses. Work for your candy.)

I managed to more or less keep the kids together until we visited a family we're friends with, and then fell in with the son and all his buds as they went back out. Bunch of boys together, running ahead of their parents, and you can guess what happened next: Kiddo ran off with them, kiddette and I were three houses behind, it was getting dark and I started to panic because I couldn't see him. There was a point where I was in the middle of the street, kiddette at the house behind me, kiddo at the house across the street in front of me, and I wasn't sure which one to go after. That was when I finally hauled him out of the group, and we headed back shortly after.

We were home and he was already out of his costume when we noticed the fire truck lights outside. No fire, just the firefighters roaming around the neighborhood, giving out thick glow necklaces to the kids. (Cute, I know.) Kiddo ran back outside. I was in the middle of making a salad, but I ran out after him, minus my coat. The truck drove off and kiddo nearly had a massive meltdown, but I pointed out that it was going to stop again up the street. We were on the sidewalk and I thought it might be safe enough, so I let him run. Man, he is fast. I'm thinking we sign him up for track as soon as he's old enough. Unfortunately the truck made a bit of a rolling stop and kept going, and kiddo kept running after it, and at this point I couldn't see him and realized there was no way I could catch up to him, ever. But then the truck did stop, and he scored a necklace and came bounding back to me, like the world's most fright-inducing boomerang. I even got him to get a second necklace for kiddette, who unlike her brother had come back to the house when called. So everyone was happy, and it could've been worse, I suppose.

And my next source of worry will be the parent-teacher conference next week, because while kiddo is doing just fine academically, behaviorally, not so much. At least one incident of lying on the floor and refusing to do something or other. I suspect there have been meltdowns, since he's been having them at home. Not sure yet what we do about it.

But at least we had Halloween without any major incidents. Oh, and that salad? The kids ate it. I figure that sort of offset the candy.

So far so good

On the weather, I mean. No signs of any superstorms. Or snowpacalypses. There is a pretty good chance of rain this week, but do you think for a second that kids are going to let a little rain stop them? Oh no. They'll trick or treat under umbrellas. They'll wear rain galoshes over their superhero boots. They'll talk their parents into driving them from house to house. (Note: We would never do this.) We are 0 for 2 on actually getting to celebrate Halloween on Halloween, instead of sitting in the dark/sitting in a storm shelter/sitting on an hour-long gas line/sitting in a hotel room because we can't stay in our house. We will not be denied. We will have costume parades and trick or treating and ritual viewings of "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Because we are Jersey Strong and we want candy.

I mean, unless the locusts show up.

Anyway there had better be trick or treating this year or I will end up eating all the peanut butter cups stashed in our pantry. Which, technically speaking, I probably should not do.

I am hoping that kiddo remembers to stay with his adult guide instead of seeing a group of kids going house to house and running off to join them.  I am also hoping he doesn't become so candy-crazed that he starts running across the street without looking first.

I'm hoping a lot of things with kiddo. I'm hoping he quits having meltdowns, because they seem to have reentered his regular emotional rotation. I'm hoping he quits blurting things out in class. I'm hoping he stops picking bedtime to be the time he hyperfocuses on his Legos and can't be budged for any reason whatsoever.

There have been some frustrating moments the past couple weeks, let's say.

But whatever. It's Halloween. Since we have the option, apparently, for the first time in three years, I want the kids to have fun on Halloween. Parades and candy and everything.
And we're guaranteed to not even get through a third of the candy because DH and I are pretty strict on treats, but the point is the acquisition, isn't it?

So, Happy Halloween to you, and may there be no snowstorms or superstorms or locusts. And kiddo ... well, he'll do the best he can do. Whatever his best happens to be. 

Quite the fun week

It's an odd thing when nearly everyone you know has lost power, and you feel guilty because you haven't. And you don't have to exist on takeout and charging your phone at warming stations and standing in the cold for hours to get gas for your generator. And you drive home from work in the dark and it's extra darkness all around you because all the homes and businesses have no lights.

Not to mention the trees down everywhere and the power lines hanging down to the ground. Kiddo and I have already had the discussion about how he should never ever touch power lines.

We did wait on a gas line last weekend, because I had a quarter-tank left and it was an even day and I couldn't put it off any longer. (Seriously, I have no idea why the governor was so confident in our math skills with this even-odd rationing thing. Question I saw on Twitter: "Is zero even or odd?") I told kiddo to bring some books and a toy, and I took some snacks along just in case. We ended up only waiting a half-hour or so, which these days, isn't bad.

About the books: I've known for a while that kiddo basically could read. He's been trying to sound out whatever words he sees, and when his teacher sent home sheets of words to make into flash cards, he already knew every one. The only thing stopping him was that he hadn't realized it yet. So he was contentedly sounding out words in the car seat, and I was checking things on my phone, and suddenly he announced: "I can read!" I agreed that yes, he could, and that moment made the whole gas line worth it.

 The rescheduled Halloween went off as planned. At least in our neighborhood it did, because we had power, along with the quiet streets and sidewalks that usually attract kids from outside the development to begin with. Our neighborhood was probably one of the few in the area where kids could go trick or treating safely. So everyone came here. We didn't run out of candy, but if the doorbell-ringing had gone on too much past 8 we would've. DH took our kids around. I was working from home, so I sat on the floor near the front door with my laptop, ready to jump up and grab the candy bowl when necessary. Wonderful for my back, I'm sure. But still easier than getting up from the dining room, sitting back down, getting up, sitting down, etc.

I'm pretty sure some kids were repeat customers. I pretended not to notice.

Some of the neighbors were complaining afterward about all the non-residents showing up for candy, and how they like it better when they know all the kids they see. I wasn't really bothered. Mainly I feel bad for the kids. Two Halloweens in a row have been utter weather disasters, and instead of celebrating, the kids have been stuck in the dark and cold, watching their parents freak out about the spoiled food and the lack of child care. Or they've lost their roof or their whole house. Not fair, not right. They deserve to have the happy Halloweens I did when I was growing up. If that means their parents drive them to my street for candy, that's fine by me.

Anyway, if it's in the house I'll eat it. I've already been pilfering the kids' stash.

I think at this point everyone we know has power back, and the kids' schools are finally open again, so no more days of pounding away at our laptops while the kids watch way too much TV. I'm hoping they didn't lose too many brain cells. Monday should be back to normal. Ish.

I know we're profoundly lucky to have our house and our health, since a lot of other people can't say the same.

Scarier than Halloween

is a massive snowstorm that knocks out the power to, more or less, your entire town. And also the town next to it. And a few towns around that town. And pretty much the entire northern half of your state. Leaving you without 1. heat 2. a working refrigerator 3. daycare. And a 20-degree night is coming.

And ... Boo!

OK, so obviously we have found a warm place with actual working electricity from which I can type this. (Or else I am powering the computer with MY MIND. Mwa ha ha OK look, it's Halloween, all right? I need to find my fun somewhere.) But this isn't a long-term solution. There's that whole job thing, for instance. Also the need to clean out the food currently rotting in the fridge. Including the applesauce that I had literally just made two hours before the power went out. Hey thanks, storm.

So we're in a bit of a waiting game. And I guess it's a smallish good thing that we hadn't carved the pumpkin yet, since the pumpkin would have then been buried under snow and no one would've seen it anyway.

We'll just ... um ... delay Halloween.  Until after we have heat. And after we clean out the fridge. And after our supermarket opens long enough to have actual food in it. And after the snow melts.

And by that time, of course, it will be Christmas shopping season.