This week, I've went from a huge high of getting another week safely under our belts, to a low of feeling like I'm just not as strong as I thought. What brought on my revelation of wussiness? Halloween. Of all things.
Admittedly, I'm not a huge Halloween person. If I dress up, I usually half ass it and have to explain my costume to everyone. Only one year in recent history have I gone as anything of note (couples costume as pilot & stewardess to a party with lots of booze...it was funny to watch Mark slowly become a drunk pilot). We don't do much for decoration outside of maybe a jack-o-latern pump soap from Bath & Body Works and a pumpkin on the porch. In fact, I'm even frustrated that this year has seen the wide acceptance of Halloween Lights. Are we all supposed to spend another weekend of the year putting up orange lights? Who has that kind of time?!
But this year, I was psyched to do a controversial pregnancy costume. Maybe the Bride from Kill Bill (post church shoot-up, but pre-coupe de grace), or a cheerleader, or the mother of all "wrong" preggo costumes - a nun.
Instead, I am hiding from Halloween. I found myself high tailing it out of the office minutes before the kids' party. This is something I typically really enjoy. My company throws a big party for all the office offspring. They even hand out candy to everyone in the office so the kids can trick-or-treat door to door. It's great fun to see little mini-me's of the people you see daily running around like maniacs. This year, I bolted before it started like a coward. I just couldn't help feeling like I would potentially burst into tears. It's not fair that there's a chance I might not get to participate next year. Plus, it's not fair for me to bring that kind of baggage to a joyous event. I'd hate to be the person who makes a proud Mom or Dad feel awkward because I can't separate my situation from their kids fun night - that's not fair either.
So I disappeared. Let's say "I was a ghost for Halloween". Which really means "I took a nap on the couch with my dog."
On the big night, we may end up being one of those houses with a "Please Take One" bowl - which we'll have to sneakily refill a couple times, I can't honestly expect kids jacked up on sugar to abide by the unsupervised sign.
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