Halloween!

For those that know and love me… Actually, for those merely in an adjacent orbit as mine know, Halloween is a beloved pastime of mine. Decorations are unboxed on October first without fail- including this year as I battled allergies and the subsequent breakdown of my ailing body. I wear themed clothing items daily throughout the month and delight in the planning of costumes. Due to this enthusiastic planning and obsessive need to always be prepared, our house has a tote filled to the brim with paraphernalia. My love for this whimsical holiday deepens with each passing year.

Since Moose’s emergence into the world, my enjoyment of this ridiculous celebration has only expanded. Watching him toddle around pumpkin patches, photographing his intrinsic need to sit on every pumpkin possible filling me with immeasurable giggles has transformed into the entertainment of carving pumpkins with him. His declarations of affection for my roasted pumpkin seeds fueling me during the arduous period of separating said seeds from the guts. Basically, his mere presence has elevated everything I loved previously. Holidays. Celebrations. The daily grind.

Full transparency, parenting is also grueling. When he hits a growth spurt and homework becomes a torture chamber for us both, it takes everything I possess to not run from the room screaming. But no matter how tough it gets, I am so grateful I get to be his mother- that my days are peppered with his hugs and “I love yous”.

This will be our second Halloween as a household of three. Last year, we marched through the streets adorned in our matching onesie’s with the child declaring us “The Pikachu Family” to anyone within earshot. Something I buried underneath metric tons of preverbal concrete clicked into place. The possibility of shared memories and traditions. The contentedness of a family.

Being a single parent is isolating. There is the gambit of predictably disconnecting undertakings- the daily tasks that you never seem to catch up on. You are now the sole proprietor of an endeavor that was promoted as a group project. It’s overwhelming, on the best day. But you learn, You manage. What surprises you are the quiet moments. The first time they feed themselves with a spoon and you don’t have someone to share the triumph with. The hollow in your chest when the child brings you uncontrollable laughter and it echoes off empty walls instead of with someone you love.

I thought not having someone to assist me with the big, tough decisions was going to be the most difficult part of solo parenting. Don’t get me wrong, carrying the burden of sole responsibility isn’t easy. But it isn’t the hardest part.

The loneliness of happy moments has been the most formidable.

For years, social media helped. It chipped away at bits of the solitude. Allowed those that love my son and I to experience his milestones. The joy he brought me. Our growth. Every post, every comment, helped me feel a little less alone.

This year, as we prepped for trick or treating shenanigans, we adhered to the unwritten law- the child choses the costume theme. There was no waffling. No hesitation in his decision. He chose our dark lord, Darth Vader. Though, if you ask him, he’s Dark Thader. He cannot pronounce it and I love it so very much. E and I shall trail behind him as faithful Stormtroopers.

*****

I’m finishing this composition post candy gathering. We traversed the neighborhood, rang doorbells, conquered scary decorations, and reigned triumphant with a bountiful booty. My heart is full. This marked our third year promenading from one doorstep to another in pursuit of confectionaries as a trio. We have found our cadence as a unit.

Moose isn’t old enough to have introspection on these relationships yet. He doesn’t need to. He knows he is loved. He knows he is safe. Accepted. Appreciated. That’s really all that matters. However, with the perspective of an adult with additional parental figures, I know how deeply important it is. It is one thing to know that the people that brought you into the world love you. It’s a foundation on which everything else is built. But the people that choose you- the ones that didn’t have to love you. Hell, they didn’t even have to like you- but they made acres of room for you in their hearts and their lives- that makes in impact on you as a person that is indelible.

Moose doesn’t see the larger tapestry of his family for what it is yet. I quite love that his innocence allows him to take it all for granted. His biological parents. Our partners. His sister. The ever growing pool of grandparents. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. He just knows that he has people he loves that love him. My history and experience gives me the axiom of comparison. I am intimately familiar with being lonely within a relationship- one in which I was supposed to feel comfort and solace. What it is to be unloved. Unappreciated. Disdained.

Strolling through the streets last night, cloaked in a sweatshirt three sizes too large, a mask not made for human faces (there was no accounting for a nose at all), chatting about everything and nothing at all, I no longer felt the loneliness of isolation. Nor longed for someone to share the milestones with, because he is always at our side- not because I have to ask, but because he wants to be.

Seven years ago, Moose added to the enchantment of Halloween by his mere existence. He set a new bar. One that I hadn’t realized how much I needed or wanted. One I didn’t think could be topped. But as I relish in the comfort of our trio, I realize it was. Because not only is there someone to march through the streets with on all Hallows Eve, he is also there when homework elicits tears or the first loose tooth is discovered. After everything is said and done, we all get to remove our masks and be who we are – good, bad, and everything in between- and still be loved. Halloween just keeps getting better and better.