Halloween Costumes and an Identity Crisis

There are lots of parenting situations for which I was unprepared. There are major ones, like how I had no idea that breastfeeding was so much work! I mean, it's easy for some people. For many though, like me, it was an unanticipated challenge. There are minor parenting surprises too, like how I discovered my favorite outfit on my kids is a really oversized t-shirt. There's just something about it that is so sweet and endearing.

Yesterday, I discovered a new parenting situation that caught me off guard - the transition from "cute and sweet Halloween" to "gross and scary Halloween." I am just...not ready for this. I love Halloween, I enjoy scary movies, and I'm not squeamish. But I remember the days when my then-3-year-old was afraid to put his costume on! I think it was a cute dinosaur costume, but he was having NONE OF IT. But yesterday, he asked me if he could be this character from a video game that I wasn't sure was entirely appropriate for his age. He told me he doesn't want to "DIY" his costume because it's not as scary as the ones from the store. Excuse me sir, you still demand a night light in your bedroom and frequently mention how you don't like to sleep alone. But ok.

I've never been a "time please stop" kind of mother, as most around me are aware. But there is something about the death of the cute kid Halloween costume phase that is getting to me. Sydney will still sort of take my costume suggestions and is pretty happy with whatever, and Emily is a baby and has no choice. Reid's decision to move away from cartoon/family-friendly costumes into the "scary" realm is a sign to me that he's growing up.

This year seems to be the year that he wants more independence. Generally speaking, I'm happy to give it to him within reason. He rides his bike to and from school solo (which is so nice, actually), does his homework on his own, and even sometimes makes his own breakfast (cereal and milk, don't get too impressed. He's not making eggs benedict). The last couple of weeks, he's also started taking showers without assistance. I feel him getting a little closer to the weird space of being an older kid, where he both loves his parents but is also embarrassed by them. I think I have a couple more years before pure embarrassment sets in, but it's coming.

As much as I am mourning the disappearance of Reid's "little kid" status, I embrace his graduation to big kid. He gets his own damn water (most of the time) and (usually) will get some for his sister as well. There is very little that I actually NEED to do for him, aside from cooking and laundry. He can get dressed, brush his teeth, make his way to school (and usually remember most of his things), and read himself a book at bedtime. He even helps with Emily, and can pick her up and carry her around, put her in the baby walker, or help watch her to make sure she's safe.

As he grows up in these less-noticeable ways, I am reminded that Kirk and I are not raising kids. We are raising adults. The actual goal is self-sufficiency. If I have a college kid who brings 10 loads of laundry home because he can't work a washing machine, I have failed. If I have a college kid who brings laundry home because it's free and cheap, Kirk will label that "fiscally responsible" and say we've succeeded as parents. Regardless, I feel like this is the time I need to start thinking of what I want my kids to learn outside school. Quarantine really highlighted the fact that I cannot teach them math, but I can show them how to contribute as a family member, take responsibility, care for themselves and others, and think ahead. I'll leave the money lessons to Kirk, since we probably don't want me touching that subject.

I have rambled a bit here, but I guess my point is that 8 years later, I'm still surprised by my emotional response to some transitions. Reid used to have a semi-complicated 30 minute bedtime routine, and now (if you take out the delay tactics) he's pretty simple. This does not mean he's an uncomplicated child; he's quite the opposite. But the intense demands on my time seem to be less when it comes to him. Thankfully, I have two other kids who have quickly filled that void, so much so that I barely noticed an absence at all. At some point, none of them will need me in the way they do now, though I know they will need me in different ways. Kids aren't the only ones who grow - moms do too.

And that, my friends, is how my brain when from "scary Halloween costume" to "existential mothering crisis." Life is so fun when you're overthinking things!

Stay safe. xx