Penny for...the End of October

Somehow, no matter how organized things are for the start of the school year – and baring in mind that was only a few short weeks ago -- it’s always this time of year that goes pear-shaped. In part, I blame the procreative habits of my peers since more than half the under-five set we know were born between October and December. (The other half fall between January and March. Beyond that, the summer is strangely bereft of birthday babies). This means weekends now through the holidays will be stuffed with a round-robin of parties at museums and paint-your-own pottery places. Just as the celebration circuit gathers steam, I’m running out of it thanks to an excess of soccer, ballet, swimming, and read with me library classes in which I enrolled my children during the haze of an endless summer.

To complicate things, October has turned out to be the winning month to indulge in a little professional development, namely two online classes. Not classes that can be conveniently followed with a glass of wine in hand, but ones involving weekly assignments, discussion groups and mandatory commentary on fellow students’ work. Of course, during sign up, I may have failed to anticipate the first round of school colds that would wipe out both children, keep them home from school, and knock out the babysitter. And I may have missed out on predicting the nocturnal forays of our two year old that ensure I’m up every two hours during the night.

The net result is a whole new level of tiredness - a sort of punch drunk, my-aren’t-those-lights-bright sort of confusion that affects both common sense and social grace. For much of one happy morning I believed the miniature lap giraffes shown via live web cam were real instead of part of a DirecTV ad campaign. And at a wedding I demonstrated the true meaning of “goldfish memory” after firmly introducing myself to a guest’s new husband, twice, thirty minutes apart.

October acts as the gateway to non-stop entertaining. It ushers in our daughter’s birthday which precedes Hallowe’en by only a week and leaves just enough time to research recipes before Thanksgiving and Christmas. Having successfully conned her into Hallowe’en themed guest goodie bags last year, she turned the tables with a request for a magical fairy princess unicorn party -- no parachuting skeletons allowed. Fifteen five year olds and three-dozen pink cupcakes later, the floors were awash with fairy glitter, gossimer wings were coming off, and Cinderella, the guest entertainer, showed up with her wig slightly askew adding the curious feeling she may have run through a hedge backwards on her way in.

More than half of the party guests seemed content to rehash their fairy princess outfits for Hallowe’en, but our children have long been chomping at the bit to transform into a jellyfish and a lobster. Now, armed with assorted fabric, bunting, and several rolls of bubble wrap, my course for the remaining evenings this week has clearly been set.

The arrival of All Hallows’ Eve brings no respite from the arts and crafts movement. November 5th, or Guy Fawkes Night, is one of those peculiar annual British traditions, (along with rolling large cheeses down hills and pancake flipping) that is fun precisely because of its ancient roots. Less than a week after Hallowe’en, we’ll be stomping about in the garden, stuffing old clothes with leaves and balled up newspaper to make a life-size effigy of Guy Fawkes, the poor sod caught under the Houses of Parliament with a few barrels of gunpowder. Sure, others were in on the treasonous plot to blow up the King in 1605 -- 13 to be exact -- but for the past 406 years British children have been making effigies of this poor guy before tossing him on a burning pyre and celebrating with a sky full of fireworks.

In a bid to get a head start on things, I started amassing several piles of leaves but my enthusiasm waned after my husband reported seeing a five-foot rat snake scuttling out from one pile and sidling into the pond. We may be on track for a jellyfish and crustacean, but I’m pretty certain we’ll need a Guy Fawkes Plan B.