It’s been a number of years since I dressed up for Halloween. Not as long as one might think—a few years ago I donned a Care Bear costume. Along with fellow Care Bears (my mom, an aunt, and a cousin) I embarrassed my oldest son terribly by showing up at an American Legion Halloween Trivia Night. He was mortified as he sat at a table with his trivia team, trying to pretend he wasn’t related to me.
It’s not the first time I’ve embarrassed him or his brother and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I have learned not to talk to them at fire scenes. They are both volunteer firefighters with the city of Grand Marais. I have to respect that they are grown men and they both have completed firefighter training. They know what they are doing. So I bite my tongue when I show up at a fire to take pictures and I don’t say, “Don’t get too close to the fire!”
It also bothers them both when I talk about them in my column. However, this week my oldest son turned 30. If a mother can’t embarrass her child on such an occasion, when can she?
Besides, Halloween always makes me think of my first son. He was my almost-Halloween baby. My due date was October 31. We joked a lot about having a little monster. However, he tricked us and was born a few days early, on October 28.We brought him home from the hospital on October 31, our very special Halloween treat.
That first Halloween wasn’t very relaxing—it was actually terrifying. Chuck and I brought home our tiny infant, laid him in his neat little crib, and looked at each other frantically— now what? We were parents! We were scared.
We eventually overcame our fright. We learned how to deal with colic and ear infections and temper tantrums. We got over the sadness of separation when our little boy went to kindergarten. We had many, many, Halloweenthemed birthday parties. We survived stolen bicycles and struggles over homework. We gave rides to wrestling and soccer and lived through driving lessons. We cried at his graduation and rejoiced at his wedding. And we watched in amazement as our baby became a father himself—two times over. Every day I am proud of the hard-working man he has become.
It’s hard to believe that tiny baby, that stubborn toddler, that defiant teenager is 30 years old. That’s what’s really scary, how fast time flies by. It seems as if he grew up in the blink of an eye.
Happy birthday, Ben!
Everything I know I learned
after I was thirty.
Georges Clemenceau
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