Today's Local News: Happy Halloween

It's been a rough week. For us. Comparatively. Yes, I know we're not homeless, or starving or dying of cancer, but it was still a rough week. Although, now that it's over, I can finally laugh about it.

Monday, I picked our son up from afterschool and he was bent over, unable to walk, complaining of sharp pains in his belly. I carried him home and put him straight to bed. My paranoid mind immediately jumped to two conclusions - appendicitis or neuroblastoma. The next morning he still wasn't well. So Big Joe took a day off work to look after him. And it just so happened to be Big Joe's last week deadline to finish the graphic novel he's been slaving away on - not a good time to be missing any time from work.

Wednesday, Little Joe was better so he returned to school. But later that morning, I got a call at my new job that Little Joe had fallen in the cafeteria and banged his head and nose on the table and that he may have had a concussion. Big Joe took a second day off work to pick him up and take him home. Thankfully, our son was not brain damaged from his fall and was able to return to school the following day.

Thursday was when the high comedy began. I picked Little Joe up from afterschool and he was in a good mood. He showed me the picture he'd made that said, "Happy Halloween" in red glitter on black felt. Although it wasn't yet dry I picked it up off the table and hurried my son to the door. Generally we're either lucky and catch the early bus which, once we change to the subway, gets us home around 6:20pm. Or we're not as lucky, (which is 90 percent of the time) and catch the later bus/subway which gets us home at 7pm. Which means a mad rush to eat and get to bed. As the days are getting shorter I was determined to catch the early bus, rather than having to wait 20 minutes for the next one in the dark. So when I saw our bus pull into the bus stop and we were still 30 feet away, I grabbed my son's hand and sprinted.

We made it safely across the street but then Little Joe fell. He immediately began screaming at the top of his lungs. Meanwhile the bus let off its last passengers and closed the doors. I was damned if I was going to miss that bus after all this drama, so carrying my crying son under one arm I frantically banged on the doors until the driver re-opened them. Then I put my son on the top step and dug around my bag for my metrocard. The driver took one look at Little Joe and said, "I charge three dollars extra for crying kids. If you don't stop crying you'll end up old and ugly like me. Just look at me!" I laughed but Little Joe merely took a 10 second bewildered pause from his wailing. Then we stumbled down the crowded aisle looking for an empty seat. I found one and put my son into it, knelt down beside him and asked, "Where did you hurt yourself?"

"My head. I hit my head," he sobbed.

Instantly I felt like a terrible parent, for being in such a hurry to get him home that I managed to injure his head again before his last head trauma had even healed. "I'm so sorry, baby!" I repeated over and over again. Out of the corner of my eye I spied a two seater freeing up and quickly relocated us. Then I emptied my backpack desperately searching for a cookie to shut my kid up. I found the cookie and as he ate and sniffled I examined his head again which was dotted with red drops. "Oh no! It's bleeding," I said. "It's bleeding?" he echoed and began wailing anew this time spewing out bits of mushy cookie along with his tears. "No, wait a minute, that's not blood, it's glitter from your Halloween picture!" We both managed to calm down a little once I made this happy discovery.

Then I noticed the Chinese girl sitting alone in the two seater in front of us. She kept turning her head around to give me freaked out looks. Then spinning to face forward again when I glared back. After the fifth time, I growled, "Why are you staring at me?!" I must have said this fairly loud, because the two Hispanic girls in front of her turned around to look at me too. The Chinese girl quickly got up and sat next to the driver, ceasing to even glance in my direction.

Friday, Little Joe recovered from his second head injury and returned to school. Early afternoon the school nurse called me to say that he was sick and that we needed to pick him up right away. So Big Joe took yet a third day off work to get our son. That week at my job was no picnic either - what with the massive layoffs at Conde Nast resulting in less work for us too, and wondering if I was still going to have a job next week. And then feeling bad that I couldn't be the one to rescue our son from all his accidents and ills. So late that afternoon I had an anxiety attack at my desk. Only at the time I didn't know that's what it was. My glands just started swelling up and aching and then it felt like I had an elephant sitting on my chest. I began hyperventilating. The first thought that crossed my mind was I have swine flu! Then I thought, no, I'm having a heart attack! Twenty minutes later, it was gone. And thankfully it was the end of the day so I was able to just go home.

Then finally, the day Little Joe had been waiting for all week arrived. Halloween. The day he gets to wear his Batman costume all day and eat lots of candy. Fortunately I'd learned from last year's fiasco and didn't spend a week hand sewing him a costume, that naturally, he'd refuse to wear. This year I didn't even dress him as he could just wear the Batman pajamas he'd worn to bed all week. Add a store bought cape and mask, his black rubber rainboots, his dad's balaclava and he was nearly there. Big Joe made him a Batman grappling hook out of ribbon, cardboard and tape. While I changed his flashlight into a Batman lightbeam with some black electrical tape and scissors, sewed gauntlets on to last year's Venom gloves - removing the Venom claws, and added a Batman insignia to his belt buckle with more black tape, and attached a pouch to carry his flashlight in. Then it was time for my costume. I'd promised Little Joe I'd go with the Batman theme and dress up as the Joker. But all this work was making us late for the planned outing to the children's Halloween parade in Washington Square Park. I slapped on my Joker make-up, barked at Big Joe while he took a picture, then Batman and I ran over to his friend Daisy's house.

Daisy and her parents stood out front, patiently and cheerfully waiting, resplendent in their fairy costumes (Daisy's choice). There they were all gossamer wings and wands, colourful flowers entwined in their long wavy hair, purple tulle, and glitter, beaming at us. While Little Joe instantly went into a sullen mood, refusing to even acknowledge his friend and pulling off bits of his costume that were too hot for the 70 degree weather. On the train, I forced him to stay in costume long enough for Daisy's mom to take our picture. Despite my Joker grin, the photo tells all. My tenseness and rigidity, trying to smile when I actually want to tear out my green hair. While Little Joe stares out broodingly from behind his Batman mask. I can't help but compare Daisy's family - all light and joy, to our darkness. Maybe next year I'll dress our son up as SpongeBob or Mr. Rogers and I'll accompany him as Pollyanna. Perhaps that will make all the difference. But not likely.