Let me start by saying, I don’t like Halloween. I never have really. I don’t like to carve pumpkins. I don’t like making costumes. I don’t like dressing up. And I HATE a gazillion and five candy wrappers strewn about the house once is all said and done.

Call me the Scrooge of Halloween, I don’t care.

This year, I was trying… I really was. I asked the kids (specifically Sam) if they would consider going as the Incredibles and their immediate response was “we don’t have a Mr. Incredible”

My response? “Oh she kicked him to the curb and is raising Violet and Dash on her own”… they laughed, but only Sam would buy into my Incredible night. Matthew had his heart set on being a box of popcorn.

No biggie. It will be an Incredible Girls Night Out with Popcorn.

But the popcorn costume?…fell through.

So Matthew went back to wanting to be a can of Spam. (We can thank Pastor Man for that.. he has a WHOLE sermon series that utilizes Spam.)

So I went in search of the costumes.

And I bought them. And paid extra shipping to get them here in time.

And for once, I was semi-excited about Halloween.

Saturday night, we went to the carnival at school. I chose not to wear my costume, so Matthew borrowed my mask and gloves… he upgraded from just being Spam to being Super Spam. Sam wore her Violet costume. We went Trunk or Treating. (Never heard of this before, but apparently, I’m the only one.)

We had fun and had enough candy to last us forever.

Sunday night, Matthew went to a Halloween party at his Big Brother’s church. He wore his Spam costume, but no one could find my mask, so he wore his Sister’s… so he could be Super Spam. Again, more candy. (And he won 2nd place in the dance competition which cracks me up. My friend and I are convinced it’s because the costume was covering the hips… because Matthew? Bless his heart… cannot dance. But he loves to.)

Anywho. While Matt was gone, we find my mask. I place it on top of the couch so that I know where it is. And the children patiently wait for Halloween.

All week, I’ve been seeing Sam’s mask laying on the floor and all week I’ve asked her to please put it somewhere so that she knew where it was when it was time to get dressed up. She didn’t.

Wednesday morning rolled around and Sam decided that she didn’t want to be Violet. She wanted to be a bride. I was so hurt. But I let her.

But Wednesday night I put my foot down. I paid all that money for these costumes. She was going to be Violet.

We went to get dressed. I begrudgingly put my costume on, all the time wondering WHY I had decided to do this and wanting to change my mind. But I didn’t.

And all of a sudden, there’s wailing from the living room.

I dart out, expecting limbs to be hanging off of one of my offspring, but instead, I discover that we are missing a mask.

The same mask that I recommended being put away all week.

And here is where the night went down hill and fast.

I’ll spare you the deets (shocking for me, I know) but really, all they are comprised of is my daughter mouthing off, melting down, being a total holiday downer. And downers are not good when you’re trying to pump yourself up to go out looking like Mrs. Incredible.

We never did find the mask. I allowed her to wear mine, because I’m nice like that. She complained that it was too big, because she’s spiteful like that.

But we finally got over to the church. Of course, I’m ready to cry. This is not how it’s supposed to be.

We headed off to Trunk or Treat… I feel like an idiot, but I muddle through. The kids are having a blast. Isn’t that what it’s all about it?

And Sam? She showed me off proudly wherever we went. I guess the dark cloud over her head finally went away.

When we arrived back at our church to drop off the kids (oh and I guess I should clarify, the little ones from church… we took all of them to a bigger church that was Trunk or Treating and played games, etc) they went off to the youth room to look at all the candy they had collected.

I stood there. I wanted to go home. But I wanted to give them just a little more time.

And that’s when a friend of mine walked in and laughed at me of course. The he asked what the big ‘I’ was on my shirt.

I looked at him and said, “Why I’m Mrs. Incredible!”

“Heather, you don’t need to dress up for that one,” he said, laughing at my get-up again.

Yeah, I had to go and get all gushy on you…. but it did make my horrible night just a tad bit better.

And then I told him he had to take pictures of us….

so I present to you dear readers, An Incredible Girls Night Out with Spam… and not just any Spam…. Angel Spam….

You can stop laughing now…

Until next time…

Heather

Filed under According to Samara, Heather's Quirks, Manly Man Matthew, Pics, Quality Time |