I’m not into Halloween. At all.  I am pretty sure this will always be the case. I’m already relieved that it’s not something I’ll have to think about as aa parent for another two years. Dressing up my six month old? Not gonnna happen, People. Mainly because I’m afraid I’ll already start to eat all that damn sugary candy.

I don’t really foresee costume shopping being a forté of mine … same goes with crafting, baking and all around Betty Motherness. It all makes me feel very unprepared and very unmotherish. I’m simply not into any of those things and stand in complete awe and reverance of those of you Mamas out there who design and sew their child’s costumes and come up with the most adorable ideas like painting with pine cones and shit. These are the things that never ever even cross my mind.

I’ve had some very well intentioned People tell me this will change, but I highly doubt it. I know myself pretty well. That’s not to say I won’t do it, of course I will, I’ll just be secretly dreading it and thinking bad thoughts the whole time in my head.

However. None of this means that I don’t love me a good costume. I admire the hell out of kids’ costumes. Probably because I always felt like I had the wrong costume on that either seemed to not fit right or wasn’t nearly as “cool” as what my classmates had.

Walking Murph yesterday, I ran into two awesome kids decked out in their Halloween attire. So proud were they. Completely assuming super hero identities, excitedly telling me who they were.

I love that child stage where there is no self consciousness. Where they’re too young to know any different. They’re just out there. Doing their thang and making no apologies for it.

It makes me smile. Maybe I can decide to go for it. Just be there in the outside world.