Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Mom's First Experience With A Teenager On Halloween



Last year, for the first time ever, my new teenager went trick-or-treating outside our neighborhood. While I realized he wasn't foraging into a ghetto or any particularly dangerous areas, it was the first time he went out into a section of town that I'm not intimately familiar with and hanging with friends I did not know. So, as is very common these days, I was nervous. And what do I, The Most Neurotic Mom In The World, do when I'm nervous? I come up with a plan so that there's some predictability in my life and Junior knows what I will expect of him. Here's what I came up with:

   
When you have a brand-new teen, Halloween is quite different!
  • Please wear a costume. I HATE it when teenagers come to my door on Halloween night and they're not wearing any kind of disguise. They just stand there, holding out pillowcases or Target bags, blankly looking at me – not even SAYING anything thing – expecting candy. WTF?! You want freebies, you make a friggin' effort! Fortunately, Junior is on board with this. He and his posse are going out dressed, I kid you not, as a herd of horses and unicorns. I have NO idea why, but according to the guy at Party City, these costumes are the hottest ones among teens. The problem is, you can't see too well out of these masks, so I'm hoping my son and his friends are careful. At least Junior's is white so cars will see him. When I suggested he wear reflective tape on his jacket and pants, I thought he was going to shoot 
 
  • When I call you to find out where I should pick you up, please answer. I don't plan on being in costume on Halloween, however, I may be wearing my froggie pajama bottoms and will have a jar of cold cream and some curlers in the car. If you are not where you're supposed to be, I will get out of the car and come looking for you dressed as Irate, Psycho Mom. I don't think you want your friends to see that. 

  • Please be prepared for pickup by 8pm.  I need you and your sister home at a decent hour. I realize that after you guys get home, there will be at least an hour of candy trading ahead of us (remember: Snickers and Butterfingers are mine). I need to get you both in bed at a sensible hour so I can raid your stashes after you're asleep.

The Teen's costume - I'm so proud...(NOT!)

    I'm not sure if these guidelines will do any good, but so far, Junior has agreed to them. I'm sure at least one will be ignored and I did have the foresight to make sure his monthly orthodontist appointment has been scheduled for Monday. While I'm a little sad that my son won't be accompanying his little sister trick-or-treating, I realize that it was insane to think he'd hang with us on Halloween. He's too cool and too grown up for that. My job is to try to minimize any dangers he'll be exposed to on Thursday.


Gotta go now. I wonder if he noticed the reflective patches I sewed onto the pillowcase he used for his loot?    :)))

Note: this article was updated to see how successful these guidelines were.

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So here's my update on how it went last year:

Teen discovered after about an hour of trick-or-treating with his sister that the rubber mask he was wearing was HOT.  "Mom, can you see how much sweat is in here?" he asked.  I declined but inside was going, "Told you so!"  He then changed into the costume he wore last year.   I have no idea how much he ate while he was out, but I do know that before I took him to his friend's house, I made him eat a burrito which I'd packed in my bag.  Only a mother would pack a burrito in her bag...deep sigh.  His braces were NOT compromised although the little bugger claimed that he got so little candy (BS!) that he couldn't spare Mom a Snickers.  And I did not need to pick him up.  My husband, the self-avowed Grinch Who Can't Stand Halloween, offered to get his son because, in my husband's words, "I'd rather go pick up The Boy than be home and have to keep opening the door."  PS:  Mom is home all day with your stash, Junior, so a few of your Snickers are already in my belly.  



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