Ghosts of Halloweens Past

OK, in our decade of trick-or-treating, nobody has ever actually dressed up as a ghost. But the title was catchier than "The Costumes of Halloweens Past"!

Yesterday was our 10th anniversary of having moved into this house. And we've been parents for ten years (son is 10-3/4, daughters are 9-1/2). And I've recently been organizing the boxes of old photos stored in boxes in the guest closet.

Hence, the pictorial retrospective:


1999: My little moo-cow's first time
dressing up for Halloween
(at 21 months)

2001: Moving on to other farm animals,
3-year-old son was a sheep;
my little jack-o-lanterns went
trick-or-treating for the first time

2002: OK, I couldn't find a Halloween picture,
but this is close enough. It's one of my favorite
studio photos of my trio.

2003: Two little witches

and a black dog

2004: Jack-o-lantern redux
and a scary skeleton man!

2005: We had a mix this year --
a princess, Dora the Explorer,
and a scary race car driver

2005: Another year of missing
Halloween photos, but another
fall photo I love nevertheless!
(I just love those smiles!)

2006: My son again used his creativity
to create a race car (this version
contained a built-in compartment
for holding candy), a fairy,
and a cow fairy

2007: A bank robber in a vault,
the character Boots (from the show
Dora the Explorer), and a self-designed
orange furry dog with purple ears :)

I'm very much a visual person, so I particularly enjoy the pictorial retrospective. Not only do I love seeing the smiles on my children's faces, but I also love remembering how they've used their creativity, at times, to design their own costumes, or to pull together pieces of two or more costumes to make a unique combination. Childhood can be so full of creativity, even for those who don't consider themselves the artistic or creative type. Halloween provides a way for them to express a different side of themselves each year. In a few years, they will think it's childish to dress up like this... they won't remember how much joy it brings them!

But I will.

Concentration

My children performed in a piano recital yesterday.

I love sitting up close and watching the children perform. Not just my own children. All of them.

Yes, I said watching. Well, I enjoy listening to them, too. But I am fascinated by watching them.

Some of the children approach the piano as though it were a piece of glass, ever so softly yet deftly tickling the ivories. Some of them attack the keys, pounding that beat out. Others seem to appreciate the melody, swaying with the cadence, becoming music personified. Still others are merely indifferent to the instrument, their apathy evident as they dutifully play the notes.

How each one plays the instrument is intriguing, but what I truly love is watching their looks of concentration. Whether they love the instrument or hate it, for two or three minutes during each recital, they are completely focused. Their absorption in the moment is involuntarily reflected through a different combination of tensed facial muscles.

My son has worn the same look of concentration at various moments since he was an infant. Hard to describe to others, it's 100% identifiable by us, his parents. We noticed his signature look when, sitting up at 5 months, he played intently with his Playskool parking garage set. He set the car down at the top of a ramp, then watched it as it appeared somewhere else down below! It's also the look he wears when designing or constructing a great work of architecture, either in drawings or with Legos. And it's what he can't help but show when he's performing for an audience. His mind is nowhere else but here, in the moment. He is not conscious of other people, or his facial muscles, or what he's going to do when the recital is over.

As I watch all the children perform for an audience, I marvel at how their faces reveal their absorption in the moment. That look represents the real reason why I wanted my children to learn to play the piano: it's not the technical proficiency I want them to possess (although developing such skill is certainly of great benefit); it's the discipline of learning a craft and practicing it to the best of one's ability, and then fully experiencing that single moment when the production of that craft is paramount.

For some, this concentration on the moment, combined with enjoyment of the event, results in an experience of flow, as described by Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi. And this is a joy to see in all children.

Cautiously Optimistic

There are times when the fruition of a long-awaited event creates both excitement and trepidation.

When I was 8 years old, my long hair was cut to shoulder-length for the very first time. I'd been begging to have my hair cut for what seemed like forever. But when I turned to face myself in the mirror, after having lost a good six inches of hair, tears flowed past my wide smile.

Nearly 11 years ago, when we brought our first child home from the hospital, we were so full of joy for the growth of our family, anticipation for parenthood, and relief that he was healthy. Yet, once we got him home, we just sat looking at him and each other, not quite knowing what to do next.

Today I met with the orthopedic surgeon for my three-week checkup. Midway through my six-week treatment for my hip fracture (eliminating weight-bearing activities), the x-ray was supposed to reveal whether the fractured bone was healing or extending. Meanwhile, in the last few weeks, I've read many accounts on an online forum of runners who had been diagnosed with the exact same injury: stress fracture of the femoral hip. Many of their stories were not encouraging!

I was quite anxious to see what my x-ray would reveal. Surprisingly, I truly did not have an intuitive sense of how my hip was healing. When my x-ray revealed signs of bone reparation, and certainly no signs of a complete fracture, I felt pleased, yet somewhat disbelieving. When the doctor told me I could advance to "toe touches," the practice of allowing the toes/foot of my injured leg to touch the ground (still not bearing any weight) while walking with crutches, I questioned him extensively.

My reaction rather surprised myself. I'd been wanting to hear that the bone was healing, and that I'm on track to begin putting weight on that leg in three more weeks. I'd been wanting to progress to the next step in my recovery. However, now that it is time to for that next step, I confess that I worry that it is too soon. I certainly don't want to suffer a setback: I now understand the seriousness of the injury, and implications to my mobility.

I am relieved that the fracture hasn't increased or completed, and that my bone appears to be repairing itself. This is good news! However, I also know that it takes six weeks for bone to heal. Until my next appointment three weeks from now, I remain cautiously optimistic!

When Pigs Fly

Did you look up today to find chubby pink creatures with wings in the sky?

No, they're not cherubs. They're pigs.

Pigs flew today: I rode a wheelchair while shopping at the mall.

I didn't expect to ever sit in a wheelchair or motorized shopping cart while enduring this sentence on crutches. But we decided to do some family shopping today. At first, I insisted on using my crutches to get through the grocery store. A guy about our age humorously tried to conspire with my husband to capture me and make me sit in the shopping cart, if I wouldn't agree to the motorized one! I laughed my way through that one, but was relieved they let me make it back to the car on foot.

My husband took it one step further. He knew I was looking forward to this family outing at the mall, and he also knew what was good for me and what I would stubbornly deny. So he played a wicked little game and told me he refused to take us to the mall unless I agreed to let the kids push me while riding in a wheelchair!

Oh, he knew that would get me.

There was no way I would miss out on our shopping trip. And of course I wanted to make the kids happy (especially the girls) by letting them push their mom in a wheelchair. And he was right that too much walking/hopping would not be beneficial for me. So what else could I do but acquiesce?

Reluctantly, I handed over my crutches and sat in the chair. I felt every eye on me (though that's self-absorbed hyperbole ... I'm sure there were some eyes that actually gazed elsewhere). It was the ultimate submission as I gave myself completely to the mercy and control of my children.

The first daughter to give it a whirl was getting the feel for steering. Within the first minute, I cringed as I headed straight toward the legs of two women, obliviously chatting with each other, intersecting my path. Instinctively, my right foot reached out to push the air brakes to make myself stop. Yet I kept heading for those legs! At the last possible second, my daughter saw the ladies and stopped, just as they also saw us and stopped with a smile. Collision avoided!

All in all, our shopping trip went very well. It wasn't so bad to ride in a wheelchair. We were at the mall for 2-1/2 hours, and I'm sure my arms couldn't have held out had they been supporting my body on crutches for that long. I learned to give myself to my children in a way I hadn't before.

And I gained a valuable preview of their maneuverability skills: As the kids took turns pushing me, I realized that the second daughter to have a turn was so very cautious and attentive. I felt very comfortable in her hands.

Then my son had a turn. Yes, he's the oldest, but boy was I nervous with him at the helm. He lagged behind when he didn't need to, needed a sister to help him navigate turns, ran me into the checkout counter, fidgeted with and climbed on my wheelchair, etc. I know he was trying to be careful and trustworthy, but he's just so darn fidgety and distractible! (Perhaps I was a wee bit evil when I told him that being the oldest in age doesn't necessarily mean he'll be the first to get his driver's license...)

We're back home now, safe and sound, enjoying a roaring fire on this chilly October day. I survived -- both emotionally and physically -- my ride in a wheelchair. I felt that I would lose my dignity by agreeing to ride, not walk. But what was gained was the pride of my children as they took care of their mom. And the freedom that comes with letting others lead. Sometimes, you have to lose something to win more.

I'm glad I let those little piggies try out their wings!

Smokin' Starbucks

My clothes used to smell like cigarette smoke after an evening hanging out at a bar. (Even though I have never smoked, myself.) The scent would linger for days.

Now, my clothes smell like coffee long after I've left Starbucks.

Dream

Do you ever have a dream that doesn't seem to end?

Neither a bad dream nor a particularly great one, it just replays over and over and over. And over.

Maybe you're dreaming that you're looking for something or someone, but you keep searching the same places. Or the hostess in your dream is leading you to your table, but it seems like you just keep walking throughout the restaurant, never arriving at your destination. Or you dream you're on a trip, but you never get off the plane!

You're conscious enough of a vague feeling of repetition and boredom, yet you can't seem to make yourself wake up.

Until... "Mom! No one woke me up! I'm late for school!"

Victory

I won a share of the pot of prize money at euchre last night!

It wasn't big money -- wasn't even enough to cover the babysitter's fee -- but the prize amount doesn't matter.

Even though my body can't compete in, much less win, any competition right now, my mind can.

It's good to feel viable and competitive and successful in something.

Small victory, but victory nonetheless.

Costume

I think I'm going to wear a costume this Halloween.

The type of costume an adult wears makes a statement, of course. And once you put it on and step out the door, you have to "own" the statement. Even if you feel ridiculous or embarrassed, you have to wear it with confidence. Do you go for a traditional costume? Or sexy? Political? Witty?

My husband is running in the annual Run Like Hell 5k on the weekend before Halloween, and runners are expected to wear costumes. I had planned on running, too, and we all know that that's not going to happen. But I can still attend the after party! And since this is an adults-only event, we have greater flexibility in the types of costumes we wear.

I found a Borat mankini costume online, which I managed to convince him to wear for the run (over running tights and compression t-shirt -- definitely not au naturel). But his concession came with one stipulation: I had to agree to wear something equally embarrassing and over-the-top. I'm still mulling that over, so I haven't ordered his costume yet.

He suggested I could be a librarian (you see, I have these glasses that he and some of his friends are quite partial to...). But I think the effect will be marred by the crutches. So, along those lines, I thought a nurse costume might achieve the same effect, but with the twist of irony (nurse on crutches). Still not sure if I'm brave enough for that type of costume in public. And I definitely couldn't wear it again around the kids on trick-or-treat night...

Then he switched gears this week and suggested I should be an old woman! I had to agree that I could pull that off easily. I already have the walker. Just add a gray wig, fake droopy breasts, slippers, and an unshapely housedress, and I'm set! (And I could actually wear this one around the kids for Halloween.) So that one is a real possibility...



Then again, I already have a Bat Woman costume from two years ago. As-is, it's good for the adult event; add some black leggings and t-shirt, and it's family-friendly. The superhero theme fits more in line with a traditional costume with which all age groups can identify. But what about the crutches? Do I really want to be a flawed superhero? Still, my kids favor this one...


Switching gears again, I suggested we go as Bella and Edward, of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight vampire series. Romantic, I thought. Too romantic, he thought. So much for that...

We went to a party last year wearing homemade costumes with a more obscure intent. Some people got it, most didn't. When you go with that approach, you have to be willing to explain your costume over and over...

The decision still unsettled, I came upon a new idea this morning, prompted by the current fiasco otherwise known as the U.S. economy. And I was thinking of making the crutches an integral part of the costume, rather than a distraction from it. You see, if I dress as a U.S. dollar, accompanied by my ever-present crutches, then my costume becomes the "Crippled Economy" or "Weakened Dollar." The more I think about it, the more this might be the one...

At least most people will get it, even if they're laughing through their tears.

Fantasizing

Since I'm not nearly as active now as I'm used to being, I've taken to fantasizing about adventure activities and travel to far-off lands. These are two places on my list of places I've just got to go. (Maybe when the kids are older?)











The Ice Hotel in Sweden (north of the Arctic Circle) -- Travel via dog sled from the airport to the hotel; sleep on a bed of ice covered with reindeer skins; enjoy vodka in the Ice Bar; experience an arctic trail snowmobile safari
















Cave hotel in Cappadocia, Turkey -- Stay in the caves by night, then explore the underground cities within the volcanic landscape by day

I'm sure there will be more to come. These were the places that came to mind this morning.

But for now, maybe I'll plan a ski trip for Christmas break, someplace nearby in the upper midwest or northeast? And keep my fingers crossed that the hip is ready for some fun by then!

Convergence

When I was a teenager and young adult, I inadvertently, or sometimes deliberately, held myself back from experiences. Or I'd have the experiences, but not be fully present in them.

I had an idea of what I was good at, what I was horrible at, who I was, who I could become, who wanted to be around me, what I could achieve, that wasn't fully formed. Frankly, those ideas weren't always accurate. I set aside many talents or interests I had as a child because I thought someone wanted me to do something else, or I thought I wasn't good enough to do the thing I wanted to do. I was just trying to do the "right" thing and be the "right" person -- and, as a result, I wasn't really me. So I didn't really know what was right for me, after all.

In the process of trying to do things a certain way, but finding out that I can't force some experiences and have them work out the way I'd planned, I've learned to operate more on intuition and less on obligation. I'm happier now. And I've realized that many of the things I'd like to achieve in my life are rooted in my skills and interests held, yet forgotten, since childhood. Yet all those missteps were not taken for naught, as they were crucial steps for my becoming who I am today.

In fact, as I look through my Top 10 list from September, at least half of them are derived from childhood dreams that I'd pushed aside for many years.

In allowing my intuition to guide my actions more these days than ever before, I've also become aware of my process for deciding on a meaningful course of action. Before a course of action becomes clear to me, I'm aware of an impending convergence of experiences, thoughts, knowledge, possible outcomes, etc. These factors feel like a cloud that lacks structure but seeks it. I can feel lightning in those clouds; there's electric energy occurring, making connections from one area to the next with bolts of light directly linking one to the next, illuminating some space around it, but only briefly. I'm aware of these connections taking place in my mind as I go about my daily routines.

This impending convergence used to make me feel uneasy. So I'd rely on what I thought I was supposed to do, what others wanted me to do. Not anymore. I have patience and I trust myself now.

From experience, I know that eventually, one day and without warning, the cloud evaporates in an instant and the entire path or decision is laid out clearly in front of me. It's that a-ha moment -- the lightbulb clicking on -- the moment of clarity!

I'm in one such cloud right now. I know the moment of convergence is near. What I don't yet know is how it will work out. But it will.

I have one degree in education... Another in journalism... I like to write... I want to write... The premature birth of my twins has enabled me to gain unique life experiences in raising them... I want to help them... I want to help others... I have an interest in cognition and meta-cognition, particularly among school-age children... Et cetera... Something is happening here. Unlike Robert Frost's road that diverges into two, mine is a crooked, winding, hilly path with multiple divergences. Sometimes I take this path; other times I take that one. But I can tell that they all converge at one point in the distance. I can't get there until I've traveled here first.

But I can feel the convergence is imminent!

True Friends

In the middle of a party last night, my friend presented me with a walker.

Instead of being mortified -- I think that was his real intent -- I was so excited that I began using it immediately. And it has a cupholder! Just a rigged-up huggie. But it did the trick -- I didn't have to fumble with walking and holding my beer at the same time. Ah, simple luxuries.

Even though his initial goal was to get me riled up (a hobby of his), having gone through leg surgery and subsequent months of using crutches and a walker himself, he figured that eventually I'd come around to it. He just didn't expect it would be instantaneously.

(Of course, as glad as I am to have the walker, I won't use it in public. I just can't go there yet. I'm still a bit stubborn.)

But my thanks go out to this true friend, as well as many others: The ones who have made dinners for us; the ones who have carried mail and shopping bags into the house for me; the ones who have offered to do my grocery shopping; the ones who have called and sent e-mails offering support; the one who sent my "angel" because she knew that was exactly what I needed. Thanks also go to my friends who understand that I might be slow to accept help. Though I might be a bit hard-headed, they stick around anyway and offer to do what they can when I change my mind. Most especially, thanks go to my amazing family, as they step up to perform tasks that typically I would handle, help to prepare meals and do laundry, assist with grocery shopping, show much patience with my new slow mode, and help with a variety of mundane tasks around the house. My children and husband are so very wonderful to me. I love them and appreciate them tremendously.

But I really like the walker. Did I mention it has a cool cupholder?

Boo!

From the ever-increasing body of evidence the kids are growing up and need me less...

Tonight, they "ghosted" (or "booed," if you prefer) our neighbors, all by themselves. In the dark. No parents.

Ghosting/booing is the fun trick of filling two goody bags with Halloween goodies, along with a photocopy of a ghost and instructions for the recipients to fill two more goody bags and "ring and run" two other neighbors the next night. The idea is for them to answer the door but to find only the goodies as the ringers remain hidden out of sight.

Last year, as in the previous years, my husband or I went with them. They were too afraid of the dark to go alone. The girls needed help finding a quick hiding spot after ringing the neighbor's doorbell.

This year, we decided to start the chain in our neighborhood. My son accompanied me to the grocery store to buy the candy and inexpensive little trinkets. At home, the kids filled the baskets on their own. When it came time to "ghost" the neighbors, they refused to allow me to come along, though I expected to. "No!" they said. "You're too slow! You'll give us away." Darn crutches.

I suggested that I could wait in the car with the lights turned off so I could keep an eye on them. "No! They'll still see your car!"

I suggested that they could wait a night or two, until their dad came home from his trip. "No! We've got all the stuff tonight. We don't need to wait for him."

Off they went...

I just waited here...

They came home so excited! So proud! So eager to tell their stories of ring-and-run! And the chase that ensued after hitting one friend's house. And how they don't think they were seen, but they're not quite sure.

In the space of a ring-and-run, they grew up.