Halloween Postscript

My husband and I were getting the mummy ready for his adventures. We wrapped and tied and applied gobs o' makeup. When all was done and we were satisfied, the mummy went to the full length mirror in our bedroom and took a look. Honest to god, the first words out of his mouth were, "Does this make me look fat?" Umm, maybe a little, but it really makes you look scary, in my opinion.

Don't be too appalled. Our Kid isn't headed for the nearest eating disorder clinic. He was simply repeating what his mother says anytime she is in front of a mirror. You have to admit, where else but the O.C. would an 8-year-0ld boy ask such a question. Something new to worry about.

He was satisfied that he was scary when anyone under 3 feet shied away from him during trick-or-treating and many, many of the treat passer outers commented on his scary costume as opposed to his girth.

Halloween is for mummies.

After the first few years in our neighborhood we learned our lesson. We get absolutely no tricker treaters whatsoever. So we stopped splitting up, one going with the Kid out to gather candy and the other staying home to hand out goodies to the neighborhood kids. Cause the one who stayed home would invariably feel like the lonliest guy on the block. There simply are NO tricker-or-treaters. Not that there aren't plenty of kids. They just don't come to our street.

A few years ago we began a new tradition. We decorate the house (spooky like) and leave out a bowl of candy in front of the gate. And we both take the Kid around to the immediate neighbors, so they won't have to complain at work the next day, "we got NO trick-or-treaters last night." Especially the new ones who would share our original perplexity at this strange kids live here but don't stop by phenomenon. (One could almost get a complex.)

After doing the nieghbor rounds, we get ourselves down to Balboa Island, or, alternatively, Halloween Central. Now, these people do it up right. They dress in costumes, decorate their houses and buy vats of sticky sweet candy for the kids. It is bumper to bumper on the sidewalks. Parents are dressed up and parading around with their tiny ghosts and goblins. Where else could you see a 6' 3" Dalmation gentleman taking his two-year-old Dalmation kid puppy out for a stroll? How about a grown adult superman out with his teeny tiny three-year-old superwoman?

We stopped at one house and a coven of witches and warlocks were cooking up treats for the kiddies. "Ohhh children, what do we have here? The bones of one who fell in from last Halloween?" My Kid shrieked and ran off. He wouldn't go near this house.

There are graveyards, giant pumpkins, Halloween theme music playing from Disney's Haunted Mansion and ghosts whirling around high above a bayfront home. Lights are a-glittering, parties are in full progress and everyone is having a rolicking good time.

I honestly can't think of a better place to spend Halloween. And they say the O.C. doesn't have a personality?

Type A? Not me.

My husband was recently chatting with a transplanted dad at a soccer game, who had uprooted his family and moved out to the O.C. from Michigan. My huband queried him about how he liked it here in the land of milk and honey. The dad said fine, the weather is great, the schools are wonderful. His wife was having a hard time though. Oh? My husband knew to draw him out, sensing a perceptive outsider's view of the madness.

His wife's observation was that she "had never seen so many Type A moms in one location."

How true that statement rings. I don't really include myself in this category since I am a Type A working girl which is quite different from the Type A moms. In my working life, I run a Marketing Department with 10 people for a $1.2B corporation. In my mom life, I take orders from the Type A moms. I volunteer at the church as a Catechist Assistant (Catholic for Sunday School teacher). There, two skinny, perfectly coiffed volunteer mom teachers toss orders at me like burly army sargents for an hour every Sunday morning. 3-hole-punch this, staple that, drop and give me twenty. Every Sunday I dread it and wonder why I volunteered.

In the Kid's class, I volunteer for Math Centers on Friday's which is run by Type A moms who tell me which center to go to, what to do and offer helpful comments about the Kid's performance at their math center ("he seems to cry when he is under stress"). Gosh, I hadn't noticed.

And then, I made the mistake of volunteering to get Islands Restaurant off of Bison to run a weeknight fundraising dinner for our school after chatting with the store manager who asked us which elementary school we went to and would we like a fundraiser evening at the restaurant? Just pick the night and he even does the flyers. Seemed easy enough. I emailed the principal, who emailed the PTA president, who talked it over with the fundraising committe. They got back to me, via email, and said they called the manager and set it all up for mid-December, I should just call him and handle the details like the flyers, the banners and anything he needs. Thanks ladies, I'll get right on it. I wasn't doing ANYTHING at all mid-December.

I am grateful that I only dabble in the Type A mom world from time to time. These women make me look like a rank amatuer.