on commandos and zombies and being the mom

I picked the kids up from school on Halloween and they could talk of nothing else but the Halloween carnival we would be attending later in the evening. Heck, even I was excited about Halloween after the third grade teacher for whom I run copies every Monday morning handed me a festively packaged jack-o-lantern votive with a handful of Reese’s miniature cups thrown in as a token of gratitude. (Reese’s peanut butter cups. Yummmmmm.)

We sat drinking our sodas together as we de-briefed the day’s events and I yawned and teased, “Goodness, I’m sleepy. How ’bout I go to bed and you and Daddy go to the carnival without me.” The fifth grader hesitated not at all, “Nope. You’re going.” I asked why and he replied, “Because you’re the mom and I want you with me.”

I know it’s a little thing but I was pleased that my children know that having a mom means having someone to spend time with and to take them to fun places. It made me feel like I have done a good job all these years even when I was so tired that I was just going through the motions. It made me wonder if it’s going through the motions even when I feel like I can’t that makes the difference.

At the carnival, we stood in line at the snack counter and I considered whether or not I wanted a coke. Nope, I decided. I don’t want to carry a cold drink around to make me even colder than I already am. Naturally, the first thing that happened after walking away from the snack counter was that the first grader gave me his cold soda to hold while he rode a ride — and he failed to retrieve it afterward.

We played laser tag, we participated in the cake walk, we threw footballs at a board with holes sawed in the middle (I made it, Brad didn’t), we ate funnel cakes and popcorn and nachos and turkey legs, we listened to the karaoke contest.

And we did it all together. Because I’m the mom. Because we’re a family.

Because that’s the way it should be.