Over again.

"Can't we go back to page one and do it all over again?"  - Winnie the Pooh

I don't know why, but for some reason Halloween gives me all the feels!  Maybe it's because every year I realize these kiddos are a little bigger, can go a few more houses, try more adventurous costumes, and have more zeal for candy.  Not to mention the memories of all of the Halloween's past that appear, all the pictures of chubby faces squished into fuzzy costumes on our Facebook feeds.  It seems like a silly day to feel so sentimental about, but it is what it is!

This Halloween day I dragged out the costume box for Noah.  We were getting ready to go visit our friends at the nursing home and I wanted to make sure he had something cute to wear (as if he even needed a costume to score candy, he gets that every week costume-free) but kids in costumes just make people smile.  We dug through the box and I pulled out a treasure I had been looking for- the old Winnie the Pooh costume.  The one Daniel wore for Halloween when Phil was his Christopher Robin, the one Noah wore basically every day for an entire summer despite the heat, when he was just learning to talk and walked around proudly, saying, "NOOK!  I POOP!  I POOP!" sending his brothers into fits of laughter.

I have so many precious memories of Winnie The "Poop" that I was hopeful that he would put it on one more time.  The tag inside said 3T-4T.  Would it fit?

"Noah, will you try this on for Mommy?"

"Mommy, dat was from when I was a baby. I am FOUR and a HALF,"  he declared with a raised eyebrow.  (note: the HALF is very important.)

"Pleeeeaassseeee?"  I looked at him pleadingly, he looked right back at me with almost an exasperated face, as if he could not be bothered with this childish activity.  But after I promised him a piece of candy, he grudgingly approved the costume try-on.

We slipped it on and it zipped up, but, as he pointed out, "Mommy, dat's tight."

Agreed.

Kind of like my jeans, kid.  I get it.  Only I have less excuses.

I laughed at my own ridiculousness.  Of course it was tight!  It was from when he was 2!  The built-in Pooh belly, once so comfortable and squishy, looked more like a bowling ball, and his ankles were hanging out from below the cute little Pooh paws that used to pool around his feet.  

"Can I take it off now, Mommy?"

"Yes, but can I PLEASE take your picture first?  PLEASE?" I begged.

"OK, but don't share it with anyone."   He gave me an I-mean-business look.

"I promise."

And I kept that promise- do you see the picture here?  Nope, but it's on my phone as a reminder for me, that my little man is growing up and has needs and opinions and an interior life of his own that is worthy of respect.  And the pic squeezing into Pooh this Halloween was not nearly as cute as the pictures of him when he was a baby in it anyways.

I unzipped the "Poop" costume and helped take it off a Zink boy for the last time.  Noah saw my wistful face and felt the need to encourage me, "Mommy, I will wear something else, but I will still be cute, OK?" 

And he did, and he was, and it was all good.  He was a brave knight, slaying loneliness like any old dragon, stealing hearts and candy from all the fair damsels.  I watched him interact with everyone and marveled at how he is growing up.

After we left the room of one of our friends, he said, "Mommy, Lillian asked my name so many times!"

"I know, buddy.  That's just her question that she likes to ask.  She knows you, it's OK."

"Yeah, I know.  My feelings weren't hurt." he said, matter-of-factly.

He totally gets it, I thought.  I marveled at his compassion for others, the way he is processing the world and the way he articulates it to me.  I gave him a hug.

"My baby is growing up!" I said, in the standard "Awwwwwww" tone of voice I always use when I tell my kids that.  And then Noah screwed up his little face and said something that made me pause.

"Mommy, do you just like babies?"

He looked at me with concern.  It was a sincere question from his four-year-old mind, worthy of the most sincere of responses. 

"Oh honey," I melted into a puddle and held him close,  "I loved you when you are a baby and I love you now.  I love you all the time.  I love babies but I love big boys, too.  You are so special, and I love the way you are growing."

He looked encouraged and quickly moved on with his life, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.  What message am I sending my "baby" when I am constantly articulating my tug between having a baby and big boy, the same tug that he's struggling with inside?   Obviously a strong enough message to make him wonder if having a cute baby was all I was into.  I need to be careful with my words and through my own give him the words he needs to share his interior life in the ways he sees fit.  So much to hold in my heart, and we were only halfway through Halloween.  See what I mean? ALL THE HALLOWEEN FEELS.

The big bros got off the bus and we had a blast.  An exhausting blast, as there is nothing quite like feeding four kids dinner and getting them costumed up on Halloween.  And JUST as I am finally getting used to the flow if it, the little years are almost over.  Isn't that life?  We went for our last theme this year, our final in a 9-year streak of themes because we thought perhaps next year would be the year the big boys wanted to go out with their friends, which I totally respect.  It was time to do it up right and savor one last trick or treat as a family of six.  I left the bowl of candy on the porch in our skeleton's lap because as much as I love greeting my trick-or-treaters in my witch costume there was no way I was going to miss my own kids out as The Beatles.

Oh, how much fun they had.  They were a hit at every house and Noah's joy spread down the street like beams of sunshine.  Our kids scored so much extra candy for their costumes that I had to quickly shuffle about four bags of it away while they were sleeping that night.  I couldn't tell if my face hurt from smiling or from the cold, but I think it was mostly the smiling.  I soaked it up- their joy, their good humor, their cuteness and the pure fun of making people laugh and smile and clap and sing.  They were so in character and they had ladies squeal over them and even had some people take their picture, which they thought was sooo cool.

After we warmed up from the cold, took off the costumes, sorted the candy, washed out the colored hairspray from Ringo and Paul's hair, got on jammies, brushed teeth and read stories, a tired-but-happy mommy and daddy were finally tucking the tired-but-happy boys into bed.

"Mommy, I'm never going to forget that," said Phil. 

"Me neither, buddy," I said, and I walked over to tuck in Daniel.

"Mommy, I'm sorry.  Today was really fun for us but I think it probably was a lot of work for you."

"Daniel," my heart ached at how sensitive he is and I felt ashamed that I had not pretended to be less tired at this point, "I'm sorry, bud, Mommy should probably do a better job of not looking tired.  Yes, I am tired.  But my heart is full from seeing you have fun. It was so worth it."

He smiled.

And it was. So. Worth. It.

It's easier now to be OK with the tired when I know that the days of being "hands-on" are slipping past, it was even easier after spending time at the nursing home earlier that day, where hands are no longer busy and rooms are quiet except for the sounds of the television and the beeps and purring of machinery.

And as much as I would love to hold one of my babies in my arms again, I can't go back to page one and live all the sweet moments (and only the sweet ones, right?) over again.  But we can try to live today the best we can, knowing that the other side of the coin of being happy is being tired, and vice versa, and that's just the way it is going to be for the season we're in.  As they say, you can have it all, you just can't have it all at the same time!

Paul and I went out for a rare date night last night to grab a drink and we talked about growing older.  We'd only go back and do it over again if we knew what we knew now, we agreed. We wouldn't trade the lessons we've learned (most of them the hard way) for a hundred yesterdays with less gray hair and firmer skin, no matter how sweet those yesterdays were in our 20's and early 30's.

As much as I miss the little Pooh and Christopher Robin of Halloween past, there is so much joy to be grasped today. 

I mean, seriously.  How much do I love them?  

I turned 38 today.  Time marches forward.  Will they still need me when I'm 64? I hope they do. My prayer is that I can make the most of the time I have with my children, whatever time I am given.  Thank you, God, for another year on this earth, another day to try over again to love my people the best that I can. 

"Any day with you is my favorite day, so today is my new favorite day."  - Winnie the Pooh