It's not much of a secret to anyone who's ever seen me that I struggle with my weight. Giving birth to a girl was one of the most terrifying things I ever did. With all of the messages in the media about women's bodies and my own insecurities and imperfections, I worried about instilling in her an unhealthy relationship with her own image. I've tried to teach her to eat healthy. We limit sugar, except fruit, but allow her an occasional treat to help her learn moderation. This year as the prospect of Halloween approached, I was quite opposed to the idea of her eating a bunch of candy, and because I would be in class that night and not available to take her trick-or-treating, I didn't even get Andrea a costume. She won't remember this Halloween a few years from now anyway, right? Mom-of-the-year.
On Halloween, Andrea spent the evening with Paul and his parents while I was at school. When it came time for her cousins to go trick-or-treating Andrea wanted in on the action. She insisted Paul wear a rainbow clown wig as his costume. Her grandmother tried to convince Andrea to wear a little clown suit, but was promptly shot down by the willful (almost) two year old. Andrea did concede to wearing a hat which she promptly removed at the first house she came to because. . . we didn't even have a bucket for her candy. Parents-of-the-year.
So there she was, no costume or bucket, being escorted by an accountant in a clown wig, marching down the street dragging a hat full of candy for her father to eat that probably weighed more than her. And being at school I missed the whole thing! Did Paul take pictures of this important first/comical scene? No! Not a single one! Father-of-the-year.
I suppose there's always next year to redeem ourselves.