I'm trying to be more present in the present. Did I quote that correctly? All the sentimental, overbearing 'mom groups' on Facebook (I can almost smell the essential oils through my computer screen) write something to that effect in one of their fancy social media fonts: that being present in the moment is what matters most to your children. Although I'm generally not one to take advice unless it's from Britney Spears or one of those Dove chocolate wrappers, that quote really resonated with me.
This pandemic has afforded me eight months of complete togetherness with my children and husband, yet I haven't fully taken advantage of this unexpected opportunity. I'll be the first to admit that I spend too much time on my phone. And on Netflix. And in the pantry. Currently, my patience is the only thin thing about me.
My children do a lot of talking, and I haven't been the greatest listener. Like many I know, I've struggled through 2020.
And then, as if times were not crazy enough, my husband, the same man who wouldn't notice if I turned vegan and grew a tail (the odds of either of these things happening are about the same), discovered a small lump on Greta's abdomen. After a terrifying visit to the pediatrician, it's been determined she has an epigastric hernia which needs surgically repaired. We met with a specialist in Springfield, and because my children are overachievers (#humblebrag), it's now been determined that she has not one, but TWO hernias!
How did I miss this? How did my husband discover her hernia when he can't even find his golf clubs? I'm usually the most hyperaware person on the planet, and I never noticed this bump?! I thought back to that sappy quote about being present in the present, and I let the mom guilt wash over me. From here on out, I was going to be a super-involved mother! I thought of the simplest way to do that: I would show more interest in my children and their hobbies; spend more time doing what they want to do.
"I want to wear one of those inflatable costumes for Halloween this year," Millie told me one September day. "Like one of those dinosaurs or sumo wrestlers."
Hey, I thought! That's something we can do together!! We could trick-or-treat as an inflatable family! I immediately (and somewhat impulsively) went on Amazon and clicked BUY NOW when I saw 'Ruby the Inflatable Hippo' suit! I'd be the hipp-oest mom around!
The costume arrived promptly at 4 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. Matt was golfing in Effingham with some friends, the kids were with their grandma, and I was enjoying a few rare moments of silence before the ladies picked me up to meet the husbands for dinner in Effingham. It was an unusually warm September day, but I figured I would still break out the new fall wardrobe. I had just pulled the turtleneck over my head and was putting the finishing touches on my makeup when I heard the doorbell ring. I tore into the Amazon box and laid out the monstrous costume across the foyer. Tossing the instruction pamphlet to the side, I grabbed some fresh AA batteries and stepped into the hippo.
A wire battery pack leads to the inflatable fan which causes Ruby to rise. In hindsight, that battery pack should be left on the outside of the costume, but who reads instructions, right? I pressed the switch on the battery pack, tucked it into my pants, and shoved my arms through the sleeves. WHOOOOoooooooshhhh!!! The costume slowly started to inflate around me. Within seconds, I was eight feet tall and three feet wide. Pretty impressed with myself, I grabbed my phone off the counter and took a series of selfies to later share with my kids. I danced around a bit. I spun.
Somehow I didn’t anticipate the sweat. Five minutes in that costume and I was melting. The hotter I became, the more claustrophobic I felt. Time to get out of this thing, I thought. So I reached around to unzip myself, only to find that while inflated, my arms were about as useful as those of a T-rex. I couldn’t reach the zipper.
Alright, well I'll just have to power down the battery pack, I decided. Welp, at that current moment, the battery pack had fallen from my waistband and was dangling down between my legs, which also happened to be inside the hippo suit.
I don’t do well with problem solving. I panic. I cry. Sometimes I eat entire cakes. Here I was, stuck inside a hippopotamus costume in 80 degree temperatures, all while wearing a turtleneck sweater. I could feel the walls closing in. I FaceTimed my mom. Turns out, she sucks at problem solving, too. “Walk down the street to your sister’s house,” she suggested. Seriously, mother? Walk two blocks in a hippo suit in broad daylight?
Next up, I FaceTimed the hubby. This one was going to be a bit harder to explain, mostly considering the fact I had not told him I purchased an eight foot hippo costume. He, also, was not helpful.
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| I found this screenshot on his phone |
I needed to pop this hippo. I considered running full force into a wall, but my top speed clocks in at about 4 miles per hour, and Ruby the Hippo is surprisingly well-made.
Panic set in. It was now 4:30, and the ladies would be arriving in thirty minutes to pick me up. I decide to call my friend, Andrea, the driver, and ask her to step on the gas. Even at seven months pregnant, Andrea's stomach resembles mine after half of a McChicken, so I figure, what the hell if she sees me in this? I normally look like a hippo next to her anyways.
So now I'm standing at the window, watching for her car to pull up, when she texts and tells me that she’s stuck in a construction zone and it’s going to be a bit longer. “I don’t have a bit longer, Andrea,” I yell into my sauna suit.
Then, in a moment of clarity, I see my neighbors step out into the woods between our house. This is my chance. I suck up my pride and stuff myself through the door. They immediately turn and stare at me, confused looks on their faces like they've never seen a hippopotamus in a ballet tutu. I then see that their adult daughter and boyfriend are also with them, and they’re taking fall pictures. Trying to remain incognito, I step back and resqueeze myself through the door. I'll wait until I'm a few feet thinner to meet her new boyfriend.
Andrea finally arrives. She unzips me in a flourish, but then confesses she was worried I was naked underneath. Ha! No way! That would make me some kind of weirdo!
I tucked Ruby into the back of my closet, unstuck my matted hair from my sweaty head, and headed to dinner. I figured all this pain and embarrassment would be worth it when I surprised Millie with my Halloween idea.
The day after #hippogate, I'm back on Amazon and searching inflatables for Millie when she plops down next to me on the couch. I hand her my iPad and tell her to pick out whichever inflatable costume she wants to be.
"Um, mom, I'm going as a vampire."
