"Are you ready for Halloween, Mom?"

This blog started because my family was in crisis and I didn't have time to go to therapy.  I needed an outlet.  Baguettes were making me fat and chocolate was rotting me teeth.  And my heart and my spirit were broken.  All over drugs and my "button's" addiction.

There are certain songs, foods, things, that remind you of other people.  Footlong hotdogs, David C.  Mamasita Chips, my husband.
Peppermint patties and marshmallows, my niece Emma.  Pop Tarts and instant vanilla pudding, my brother. "Build my Up Buttercup", my bff.  Pepperoni rolls, Morgantown, WVA. Lilacs, my great grandma.

While I don't write about the "button" anymore, Halloween kicks my heart.  I challenge anyone to love Halloween more than the "button". At seven years old, he would sit in the garage, on a plastic tablecloth and carve pumpkins.  I know it was insane to let a 7 year old with a sharp object but he was a little man on a mission.  One pumpkin for every year he was old. 

The "button" was ahead of his time.  He was a Pintrest craze at 7.  When he was 10, he spray painted a pumpkin black.  Then carved it.  He was a pintrest genius.

He would plan his costume in July.  And he always wanted to be unique.  Pilgrim, George Washington, Indian Chief, Superman, he was a child with a plan. 

We always made a trip up "north" for Pumpkin farms, corn mazes and the "big fall trip."

The day after Halloween, annual trip to WalMart for 50% off costumes and stuff.  He loved it.  He always said it was the third best day of the year.  He would always pick out a costume and wear it all year.  Just for the heck of it.  Typically, it was super hero or Star Wars related. 

My favorite picture of my three kids will always be BATMAN, Robin and Catwoman.  They were digging through the "costumes" bucket and found these. I can hear them giggling.   It melts my heart every time I look at the photo.  Good times.

When I was a child, things were different.  You went with your mom to the fabric store and picked out the "Simplicity" pattern for your costume.  If your mom did not sew, you went to WOOLWORTH to get your costume in the box with the mask that just made your face sweaty.  And that mask smelled.  Hated those things.  Secretly dreamed about a costume in a box until I put a mask on.  Ugh.

When you grow up in Pittsburgh, you have to plan your Halloween costume with one  thought, "what will this look like with long underwear underneath it?

When I was about 10, I was the Jolly Green Giant.  Long underwear dyed green with RIT dye.  My mom sewed green leaves on that sucker for weeks.  And I was allowed to paint my face green.

My mom made amazing costumes.  Santa Claus (my fave), won my brother and I the Delmont Halloween parade.  I pulled him in the metal Red Ryder wagon, decorated to look like a sleigh filled with toys to the fire department where the prizes were announced.  I think the prize was a silver dollar.  I really don't remember.  I just remember my mom was pumped!  Go Linda. 

Even if you didn't understand the days and months of the year, you knew Halloween was close when you went to my mamaw's house.  Proudly sitting on the giant stereo was "the pumpkin".  The pumpkin she made in ceramics in 1961.  She would fill that pumpkin with concession stand candy bars.  Baby Ruth.  My mamaw's name was Ruth.  She was so witty.  When you saw that pumpkin, you knew.
No inflatables, no orange lights, no television commercials, Facebook messages, tweets, just a pumpkin. 

My dad would load us up in the back of his pickup truck and let us move from house to house (you could not walk on anybody's yard, sidewalks only) and after about 10 houses, we would get in the back with about 20 other kids to the next drop off point.  Halloween was the only night of the year we were allowed to ride in the back of a pickup truck.

And after killing it in Bel Air Manor, we came home to dump the pillowcase.  Honestly, your parent's going through the candy is a scam.  My mom would grab those Mallow Cups like they were gold.  Licorice too.  My dad went after the CLARK bars or Oh Henry's. 

And after the sort, my mom would take the candy and put it in the big pasta bowl in the cupboard.

By November, only the hard candy was left.

It was a joyous time. 

Tuesday, I was in my car a significant amount of time. 
Where had those simpler times gone?  Wish we could have those Halloween Parades like we had in down town Delmont.  Why isn't penny candy a penny anymore?  And again, when did ever thing become so over the top?

And what happened to my "button?"  My son was not allowed passed the mailbox and now I didn't even know his mailing address.  I have no idea how to mail a Halloween card to my son.  Unreal.  His favorite time of year and maybe it wasn't.  I didn't even really know.  Our relationship is now just a sliver.  All of us.  We just had a sliver of a relationship with him. 

My mind went off to dark and sad times.  I reeled myself back in.  My husband and I are great.  My other kids great.  Our lives are happy. We have Peace.  We have healed.  I don't have a relationship, really, of any kind with my pumpkin carver, but we have healed and moved on.  And as I reeled myself in, I still shook my head.  Those who have never been involved with addiction will never understand.  You have to be in addiction hell to ever understand. 

There is something about this time of year that tugs at my heart.  I see "the pumpkin" and I my heart goes to Vine Street, Greensburg, Pa, home of my mamaw.  It goes there more in October than any time of the year.  All with happy thoughts but still missing getting a Halloween card from that address. 

And I pull out Halloween pictures of my kids and I look at my Pilgrim "Button" and I just shake my head.  And try and keep my heart healed any Hope opened.  Not going to lie, after tons of therapy and naranon meetings, still hard to do. 

Yesterday, in the middle of political broadcast television pre empt hell, I heard a text notification on my phone.  Didn't even look.  I had to find a place for these commercials that were bumped by politicians.

As I completed pre empt hell, I sat back in my chair and I looked at my phone.

"are you ready for Halloween mom?"  A question from the "button."

Six words.  Just six words.  Six words that equaled HOPE. 

I haven't had six words like this in almost one year. 

No obscenities.  He didn't ask me for anything.  He asked me if I was ready for Halloween?

This weekend we will run into neighbors and friends buying candy, candles, whatever and we will look at those folks and ask, "ready for Halloween?"

We haven't spray painted a pumpkin black here in awhile.  Going to do it. 

Going to reach into that ceramic pumpkin from 1961 and going to pass out Hershey Bars and Skittles (concession stand size) and say Happy Halloween to all. 

What I really want to say is "take my candy.  Halloween has given me fabulous memories.  Halloween continues to give me HOPE". 
HAPPY HALLOWEEN.