Pumpkins

I realized last night that carving Halloween pumpkins serves as a dual-purpose. It makes you aware of the child that still lives within you, and at the same time, it makes you realize that you're no longer a child. I'll start with the latter. Baby Boy's bedtime routine starts between 7 and 7:30 p.m. and he is usually in bed by 8. Well, Daddy didn't get home til 6, and I had to do an interview for work anytime after 6:45 (that's the only time the interviewee was available). So, Daddy gets home and I'm left pondering the following: Baby Boy's bedtime is in two hours. I have to cook dinner. I have to interview s0-and-so by 7. I have to start Baby Boy's bath by 7 or 7:30. We have two pumpkins (one big, one little) to carve tonight. Tonight is our only night before Halloween. Hmmm...where to start.

So I start cooking dinner - chicken, baked potato, corn - easy enough. I've got it all cooking and Baby Boy starts getting fussy. Well, Daddy has this magical way of calming him through music. He literally takes out his guitar, starts playing and singing, and immediately Baby Boy is intrigued. He sits in his bouncer while daddy plays, and I have just enough time to finish making dinner. But Daddy's magic only lasts so long, so Baby Boy starts to fuss just as we're able to sit down for dinner. Well, we still haven't carved pumpkins and it's approaching 7. So, we try one last thing. Daddy digs his hands into the big pumpkin and I put Baby Boy in his high-chair to watch. He's entertained for a little while - just enough time for us to gut the pumpkins. Now he's really upset. Determined to finish the pumpkins, Daddy holds Baby Boy while I carve the faces. My pumpkins always look the same. Triangle eyes, triangle nose and a big, goofy (and often crooked) smile with two teeth on top. I forgot to carve the one tooth on the bottom, but that's okay. They still turned out very cute. We took a bunch of pictures (which, we can all admit, is the true reason for carving pumpkins with a 4-month old - they could care less - but someday they will appreciate the pictures) and by now, Baby Boy is ready for his nighttime routine. Before I continue this story, I will share the thoughts I had during the carving.

It was a blast! I remember doing it as a kid. It was something to look forward to for weeks (especially with that big, orange, faceless pumpkin sitting around the house, just teasing you, waiting to be carved). I remember the night of carving as an actual event. My parents would cover the garage floor with newspapers and we'd gather all the essential carving tools (you know, big spoons, bowls for the pumpkin guts, candles to bring them to life). It would take hours to cut off the lid, gut the pumpkin, peel the annoying stringy stuff from your fingers and carve the faces. Ours always took a little longer because my dad loved to make ears out of the chunks of pumpkin that came from the nose and mouth. We'd use toothpicks to stick them to the side of our pumpkin's head. We thought it was so funny. The ears made our pumpkins special! Anyway, I'm remembering all this as Daddy and I are carving our big pumpkin and Baby Boy's small pumpkin, and I'm realizing that for us as kids, it was a special event, and for our parents, it was something to squeeze into the busy routines of their lives. I truly enjoyed carving our pumpkins last night, but until then, I never quite realized (or had never thought about) how pumpkin-carving (as much fun as it is and as much as you see your kids have doing it), is somewhat of a chore for parents.

And that brings me to the conclusion to my story - you know, the part about realizing you're no longer a child. Carving pumpkins had to be squeezed into our busy, time-crunched nightly routine, but we did it, and not only did it give me an apprecition for my parents and for my childhood, it reminded me how important it is to take time away from the regular, mundane routine and be a kid again. And that's exactly what happened last night. I was transformed into a child that secretly enjoyed the slimy seeds and string between my fingers.

And for mom's with babies, here's a tip: If you have a fussy baby during pumpkin-carving time, gather all the pumpkins guts into a bowl and let your baby stomp his feet in it. The idea just came to us after our pumpkins were carved and Baby Boy wanted nothing to do with it anymore. We rolled up his pant legs, put his feet right in, and immediately, he started stomping them around. He squished the seeds and annoying stringy stuff between his toes and smiled the entire time. He was truly happy.

Awe, the joys of childhood : )

(If anyone cares to know, I was able to give Baby Boy his bath and get him to bed by 8, eat dinner by 8:29 and call my interviewee -who I had already called to tell I would call later in the night, between 8 and 8:30 - at 8:30 on the dot. See? Everything worked out just fine in the end)

A day at the park

The other day, I took Baby Boy and our little dog, Cooper, for a walk. It's a lovely walk - .5 miles each way to a nice, big park near our house. There's a walking path lining the grassy area of the park, and across the street is an elementary school. School had just let out that day, and tons of kids were walking home from school, through the park. I couldn't help but overhear their conversations as they passed by, and I was thinking about how funny their conversations were. There were three separate groups of little boys walking home, and each group I passed was talking about video games! I was deep in thought, reminiscing about my days as an elementary school student. We got home from school every day and couldn't wait to gather our neighborhood friends (and there were like, 20 of us!) together for a game of whoofle ball (no clue how to spell that, or if it's even called "whoofle" - maybe it was "whiffle"...hmmm...not sure). Anyway, other days, we would climb trees, use our entire block as fair game for hiding spots during hide-and-seek, ride our bikes, play truth or dare or make up our own games (like Red Man...that's a whole other blog). My point is that I was deep in thought. I never imagined what I was about to see.

I stopped to give Cooper was water, and as I stood up from my hunched position, tearing through the park, heading straight for us, was a wild coyote! I'm not kidding! My first thought: "that's not a dog...that's a frickin coyote!"

I heard parents screaming their child's name, grabbing their arms to pull them closeby. I yanked Cooper's leash back so hard I'm surprised he could still breathe. I jumped in front of the stroller to protect Baby Boy, and the coyote was literally five feet from us. With a crazed look in his eyes, he just kept running. He looked like a silver bullet shooting through the park...I never realized just how fast those things are. The closest I've ever gotten to one was from behind cage bars at a zoo. I've heard packs of them howling in our neighborhood like a group of screaming little girls, but I've never been that up close and personal to one. And it wasn't fun! I shot my head around as he ran by us and watched as he tore through the park, across the street, down the sidewalk lining the school, and down the street where all the children were walking. I heard screams and saw kids scattering all over the place while cars slowed as the coyote darted in and out of traffic. It looked like Godzilla just came to town.

Needless to say, I followed the coyote with my eyes until he was out of sight, and I booked it home. I even jogged a little when I got on our street. I just wanted to be in the safety of our home. It didn't turn out to be quite the walk in the park I had imagined it would be. Lesson learned??? Wiley Coyote is not so cute in person.