A princess, a pirate, and Napoleon Dynamite walk into a bar and…just kidding…that’s what my kids are dressing up as this year for Halloween.
Have a safe and fun night to all those trolling the streets for candy. Here’s a fun video from Discovery News that explains how Halloween originated.
click on this link to see video –>> Halloween’s Beginning
Created by Heidi Woodard
I started a tradition when my boys were very young. We would pack lunches on the weekend and walk a trail together at Fontenelle Forest in Bellevue.
This trail led us through a canopy of trees, across railroad tracks, and ended along the riverside where we would spread out a blanket and enjoy a picnic and random conversation. Once we were done eating and solving worldly issues, we would retrace our steps before collapsing exhausted back into our car and heading home.
Over the next several years, the trail was the only thing that stayed the same. The two boys matured and welcomed a little sister to the mix. The car became a minivan. The mom became less stressed (well, technically, the mom shifted her stress to a whole new batch of stuff).
Life was good.
But as the famous book Love you forever by Robert Munsch so eloquantly describes, “That little boy grew. And he grew and he grew and he grew.”
And in my oldest’s son’s case, that little boy grew monster feet and an even bigger attitude.
After listening to nonstop complaining about his heat-induced headache, how he didn’t like the bugs, and how he couldn’t suffer one more step, I looked at my oldest and threatened that this would be the last time he made the trek with us. His response hit me like a ton of bricks…
“Good!”
He is stubborn like his father and thinks he’s right all the time like me.
So what’s a mom to do but allow him to be him? To change with the seasons and float wherever the wind takes him?
I still have two more children who generally think the Earth revolves around me. They enjoy doing activities with me and with each other.
So why is it so hard to swallow the fact that I can no longer force HIM to enjoy what I do? He is becoming his own man before my very eyes and I am both proud and mournful.
He said to all of us that day, “I would rather be different than like everyone else.”
And I knew exactly what he meant.
I just wanted HIM to be like ME for a little while longer.
My grand idea to bond with my boy has practically killed me.
I don’t have a lot of opportunities to spend significant amounts of time with each of my children independently. When you have three kids, you tend to divide and conquer. And by “divide,” I mean I always end up with two and my husband one.
So when I was given a “Speed Camp” flyer that advertised a once-a-week-for-seven-weeks workout to both children and adults alike, I thought to myself, “Now HERE’S something I can do with Austin (my middle child).” He’s not a complainer and loves spending time with anyone who enjoys his company. I knew I needed to get in better shape and that he would benefit from the extra conditioning as we head into basketball season.
I filled out the flyer, wrote out the check, and walked blindly into the light.
The light that would become my death.
We have officially completed two sessions. Five remaining.
As the time ticked down on our second session, I did something I swore I would never do: I stopped working out before the workout was scheduled to be over. Because I didn’t want a gym full of kids to see me puke or faint.
I don’t think you understand how painfully embarrassing that is to a washed-up former athlete who prides herself on her overall health. To be fair, I donated blood less than 24 hours before the workout.
So when my son gave me a smug little smile once the rest of the group completed the full session, I announced, “I saved a life.”
Oh yes I did. I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let all of my competition know how weak I was.
Bonding over buttered popcorn at the movies would have been a better choice in hindsight.
Created by Heidi Woodard
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