The post on our neighborhood app, Nextdoor, reads, “Help, lost wedding band at Halloween parade.” – its a hail mary attempt to find my husband’s wedding band that seems to have disappeared in the last 24 hours, along with any remaining chunks of my sanity. 11 months into life with a toddler and baby twins, I thought I had learned to never get my hopes up for successful ‘events’, but I find once again I let idealistic images in my head get the best of me and was determined to celebrate Halloween with my family. Now, in a desperate attempt to see the unseen I replay last night in my mind in hopes of finding that silver band…
I’m standing in my living room looking down on both boys as they actively work to rip off the little cookie costumes that my Mom spent so long sewing for them. For tiny, almost invalid, little creatures they sure are doing an amazing job of utterly destroying the outfits before the evening has even begun. My toddler, who is still aggravated about her flu shot hours earlier, is refusing to wear her milk costume and opting instead for a random hat she found in the bottom of a bag. As both boys realize that no matter the effort put forth, they are still stuck in remnants of their outfits, they resort to the tried and true method of screaming and flailing their little bodies about the room. I glance at the clock, 4:35, the parade starts at 5:00 and the street closes at 4:40. Where is my husband?? Last year he got locked out by street closures and I’m fairly certain he would never let that happen again (after hearing my opinion on the matter). Since the kids are too young to trick-or-treat, the little neighborhood parade is our only method of celebrating. I’m determined that we will take part! David and I are fairly obsessed with trying to maintain some form of normalcy for our family – besides it shouldn’t be that hard!! A little gagging sound grounds me back to the living room and I quickly pull felt straps out of my son’s mouth. “No mouth!”, I hear my toddler say and I realize my 22-month-old is doing the parenting while I simply try to keep them alive. The other twin is now gone, off to wreak havoc in another room, little pieces of his costume trailing behind. I’m off right behind to collect him.
4:45, I hear David’s truck in the driveway, currently zero of three are in costumes at this point. I also notice for the first time that it happens to be pouring outside. This is the point where I’m ready to concede defeat to the universe. How is it this hard?
Daddy comes in takes one look at me and says, “Ok, let’s get the kids ready.” For. The. Love. Of. God. The two of us tackle babies one by one until we have 3 dressed kiddos. I resort to using clothespins on the babies outfits to keep them from wriggling free. Perhaps, not my best parenting tactic, but it’s only for a short time. Into the garage, my husband stuffs them into strollers, the puffy costumes making it difficult to fasten the safety belts. Both boys have now figured out not only are they stuck in the cookie costumes but that we are going someplace and there will be no reprieve soon – the crying and flailing ensues. Hearing her brothers in distress, Haley must wonder if they know something she doesn’t, therefore, maybe she should be worried too. And now we have three dressed, loaded and hysterical children ready to go. The only problem is – it’s a downpour. I’m not sure what’s louder at this point, the rain pounding down, or the three crying babies – the combination of the two feels like some sort of purposeful punishment.
By the time the rain slows to a drizzle, and we embark down the street to catch up to the parade, the boys have settled into their least favorite defensive technique – being perfectly still and quiet. We chat with all the neighbors who have come out in droves, despite the weather, with perfectly dressed spooky little goblins in tow. All the kids are wearing rain boots (that would have been smart) and all the parents have Yetis with alcohol (Ah, how nice would that have been). David, I notice, never changed from the office and is sloshing through the water in dress shoes, while, since I stayed home from work to deal with a lingering stomach bug (thanks kids), at least have on yoga clothes and sneakers, but not an ounce of make-up and Dear God, I forgot to brush my hair today.
All of about 9 minutes go by, before we’ve all had enough and exiting the parade we turn toward home. With the kids home and unloaded I snap a couple of group pictures – giving up on that idea rather quickly. Then stripping off costumes I settle us all into a night of passing out candy with me enjoying the contents of my freshly poured Yeti. At exactly 8 pm, we shut off the lights and consider, what I will forever refer to as Hell-oween, officially over.
When I replay the night in my head, I’m actually surprised the only damage done was one lost wedding band. And as always, I’ve left with the lasting thought – Why is this so hard??