Meet my alter-ego – The Iron Uterus. Enjoy this post from the past as my Halloween Treat to you!
In third grade, while all the other kids wore their store-bought, lead-based
painted mask and tissue-thin plastic tunics with superhero abs imprinted on the front, my mother promised me I could wear my precious First Communion outfit, complete with embroidered lace floor-length gown, a lily of the valley bouquet and a tiara headpiece with flowing veil. I was ecstatic. I was going to be The Most Beautiful Halloween Bride EVER!
Until my mom stole my headpiece and flowers for her bowling league party.
She needed them because her team planned on dressing up as a shotgun wedding posse. Her attempts to appease and salvage my costume included a crocheted bedspread to drape over my head and some dusty fake tulips she pulled out of the attic. She handed them to me and said “You’ll be fine.”
I was not fine. I cried through the entire candy gathering ritual, presenting my tear-streaked face to each lamplit door and wailed “Trick-or-treat” pitifully.
People called me a jilted bride. I thought “jilted” was seventies slang for “your mama dresses you funny” and sobbed even harder. My pillow case overflowed by night’s end with candy people shoveled into it out of pity.
When I became a mom, I vowed never to put my children through such horrific, tear-filled Halloween torment. This mama wasn’t dressing her kids funny. Hell no! I’m the mom all the other moms secretly hate. I have created elaborate and authentic masterpieces with my sewing machine and glue gun skills. For my children, Halloweens would be happy!
For my beloved firstborn son, I had created a multi-patterned and detailed clown costume that would put Ringling Brothers to shame, complete with authentic face paint and hand-sewn juggling bean bags. And my reward for hours of back-breaking stitch work? Mother Nature had the freakin’ audacity to SLUSH ON ME!
You heard me. It wasn’t raining. It wasn’t snowing. It was slushing outside in below thirty-degree weather. Heavy, thick, ice blobs of slushie pelted the ground from the skies above, mocking me. This does not make for a Happy Halloween experience.
Like any good mother determined to let her kid beg candy from strangers, I strapped a see-through trash bag over clown boy and proceeded to drive him door-to-door in my iron uterus. I’d march his circus-bound fanny up to ring the bell and await with great anticipation the envious reaction of jealous
moms as they filled firstborn’s hand-made drawstring treat bag with chocolate
joy. Oh glory! Oh happy! Oh Halloween!
By the third house, firstborn’s face paint had melted to his belly-button, he was slushing wet from his pom-pom pointed hat to his lovingly stuffed and bow-tied Bozo shoes, he’d dropped his precious treat bag into a frozen puddle. . .
. . . . and he was crying.
That was the day I finally learned that despite the best laid plans, we are all destined to become our mothers. There’s no point in fighting it, so why even try? A mini-van is simply a tricked-out station wagon. Our mothers were the original Iron Uterus Generation. Their failures have taught today’s moms to strive harder for perfection, which in turn, our failures will scar the next generation for years of therapy to come.
Ain’t life grand?
**Do you want to see more of “The Iron Uterus?” Let me know, and I’ll throw a post in once in awhile.
Betsy, I love the post! I can just picture little you in your bride costume crying your eyes out. Did you recover enough to appreciate the extra candy it got you? I can also picture the whole outing with your son. We’ve had some similar outings around our house, but no matter what we still manage to get through it. Hope you have a great Halloween today. Thanks for the laughs!
Thanks Jamie! Yes, I did enjoy many cavities from my candy, but I never forgave my mom!!! No child should have to wear a bedspread on their head!!! 🙂
Funny! In all the years I’ve known you, I don’t recall you ever calling your van that, so I got a huge kick out of the post. Sure, bring on more of the Iron Uterus. LOL.
Oh, my dearest Linda, then you have not been paying attention!!! Surely you must recall my gigantic monstrosity of a conversion van? THAT was the ultimate Iron Uterus, because it routinely spilled kids left and right to sporting events. About three years ago, I tried starting the Iron Uterus blog, but quickly abandoned it because life was going to Hell. I’ve decided maybe to revamp and post some of them here for reader amusement. 🙂
“We are all destined to become our moms”
Ain’t that just about right. LOL Great post and yeah, I’ll read more about the Iron Uterus.
(My daughter has just decided she wants to set aside the werewolf costume she begged for and she wants to be a Girl for Halloween. Um–“You are a girl.” Her reply, “I know, but I can be a girly-girl! I’ll even wear the skinny jeans you bought me!”
I’m taking her candy when she goes to bed. I’ll just tell her that her pal Slenderman came and took it while she was sleeping.
(Yeah, sometimes we even surpass our mothers!)
Classic, Stacey! Wonder what her reaction will be in the morning!!! Thanks for reading and sharing!
Awwww. As the saying goes … “The best laid plans of mice and men.” How can we ever plan a perfect Halloween. There have been so many years when you froze you tush off … Wisconsin being what it is. Terrific post.
Thanks, Liz! Wisconsin does make for interesting Trick or Treating – keeps us on our toes!! This is the first year all my spawn are too old for it. Made GG and her immobility boot hand out the candy this year. Practice for the future?
My sides hurt from laughing. Not sure if it was an hysterical form of laughter as I saw my mother and myself. As usual, I could hear you speaking as I read it. Your voice is very strong. Thanks for sharing!!!!