I threw on some mascara before I picked up my boys (late) from preschool today. Sometimes the pretense of organization and personal hygiene in the form of mascara is enough to fool the world. On the best days it’s enough to fool me, too.
Today, I fear my black smudge failed to divert eyes from my unbrushed hair, my pasty complexion, or my wearing-’em-for-the-third-day-in-a-row jeans. My mascara is fooling no one. A mascara wand, after all, comes with limited powers, and covering up a mama’s Halloween weariness is apparently not one of them.
I know. I know. Halloween is so… yesterday.
And yet, with the Halloween shrapnel from the detonated holiday littering my house, I feel like I’m still living in the trick-or-treat moment.
This is how I can tell it’s November 1st:
Costume bits are strewn about my house.
And no matter how many times I wave my mascara wand at them…
…they appear unmoved.
Evidence of “breakfast” is scattered from here to there and everywhere,
including under the couch, on my table, and behind a couple of lamps… one of which was also hiding an entire bottle of ketchup, two Otter Pop wrappers, four Legos, a My Little Pony, and a red Fruit Loop. My mascara wand didn’t work on any of that stuff, either.
I’m pretty sure they call today, November 1st, All Saints Day for a reason.
To all you mamas and pops out there (and, in our case, nanas, papas, grandmas, grandpas, cousins, friends, aunts, uncles and perfect strangers we met out there walkin’ the Candy Beat with us) who made last night’s All Hallows Eve into, well, “All HOLLA! Eve” for all the kiddos, you earned your sainthood. May today’s sugar lows and houses-full-of-crap highs remind you of your many wonderful family moments.
At least one person out here in the internet ether knows you for the saint you are.
Happy All Saints Day!