It was that time again. Time for Heather to come over and carve up some pumpkins. Time to watch River freak out about pumpkin guts. Time to practice one of those holiday rituals that I really enjoyed as a kid, don't enjoy so much as an adult, but am obligated to take part in to watch the cycle continue through my child.
It's hard to believe a whole year has passed. That since then, Sage (down for the night during our pumpkin massacre) was not yet even created. We had no idea then that I'd be pregnant in less than two months! Next year she'll be shoving curious hands into the family pumpkin and likely attempting to eat her findings. Sigh...
I feel so old.
River picked out the white pumpkin at a local Harvest Festival. The damn thing is creepy. The insides felt foamy as opposed to the usual slime and were tinged green. Zombie pumpkin, I suppose or maybe vampire pumpkin. After the newly formed Jack O' Lanterns were lit, River insisted we had to sing Happy Birthday and then blow out the candles. So there we were, three adults and one pleased toddler singing Happy Birthday to a couple of over sized, gutted gourds. I realized, this is how family traditions begin. That every year from now on, I will insist we sing Happy Birthday dear pumpkins! I'll insist until the kids stop singing because they think it is lame and they sigh with exasperation every time I tell the story of River insisting we sing. That one day they will exchange bemused, indulgent expressions and once again sing along with their precious, if a bit nutty, mother. Through the exhaustion of ten hours solo with two needy kids, I felt a pleasant glow of contentment.
If you're wondering about Heather's pumpkin... Well that's the Jason porn-stache pumpkin. Remember that insane thing he had growing on his face? He seemed a bit miffed to have his likeness as a pumpkin. I'd be honored! Hey, maybe I should let my 'stache grow out. I am half Italian after all.
Maybe next Halloween...
It's hard to believe a whole year has passed. That since then, Sage (down for the night during our pumpkin massacre) was not yet even created. We had no idea then that I'd be pregnant in less than two months! Next year she'll be shoving curious hands into the family pumpkin and likely attempting to eat her findings. Sigh...I feel so old.
River picked out the white pumpkin at a local Harvest Festival. The damn thing is creepy. The insides felt foamy as opposed to the usual slime and were tinged green. Zombie pumpkin, I suppose or maybe vampire pumpkin. After the newly formed Jack O' Lanterns were lit, River insisted we had to sing Happy Birthday and then blow out the candles. So there we were, three adults and one pleased toddler singing Happy Birthday to a couple of over sized, gutted gourds. I realized, this is how family traditions begin. That every year from now on, I will insist we sing Happy Birthday dear pumpkins! I'll insist until the kids stop singing because they think it is lame and they sigh with exasperation every time I tell the story of River insisting we sing. That one day they will exchange bemused, indulgent expressions and once again sing along with their precious, if a bit nutty, mother. Through the exhaustion of ten hours solo with two needy kids, I felt a pleasant glow of contentment.If you're wondering about Heather's pumpkin... Well that's the Jason porn-stache pumpkin. Remember that insane thing he had growing on his face? He seemed a bit miffed to have his likeness as a pumpkin. I'd be honored! Hey, maybe I should let my 'stache grow out. I am half Italian after all. Maybe next Halloween...
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