Trick or Treat

“It’s about the kid.” Shane insisted as I placed the wig on my head. I was Amy Winehouse. If anyone needed rehab, it was me. Hunter was dressed in his skunk outfit. I had just rushed home from work and was getting ready for the kid parade on 18th Street. Oddly enough, the neighborhood kids didn’t make it to 20th Street. Our block is completely bypassed, hence we do not get to pass out any treats. What a trick!

It seems Potrero Hill is very parade friendly. In fact, the past Saturday they had a halloween pet parade. Festive freaks. This year non of our friends hosted a halloween party and so I was going through a bit of a withdrawal. The parade started at five thirty, and we – or I- was running late. Shane, on the otherhand, kept reminding me that it was about Hunter. My husband, the sourpuss, was not in costume. He was going as himself for Halloween. He was as bland as table salt. Even more uneventful he wanted to post up at Rube Wine. I reminded him that it was about Hunter.

We ventured down the hill as I had to adapt to my depth perception of my billowing hair. My hair kept entangling itself in the tree branches. Chloe kept trying to outwit her leash in her pirate costume. Shane pushed the stroller. 18th street was a madhouse! We weaved through waves of families dressed in their favorite characters. It was great to be among such a live community. Hunter was oblivious of the buzz in the air. For the most part, my costume was unknown, except for the usual parent or teenager that would rave with delight. Otherwise, I could have been Marge Simpson for all they care.

After the parade, I would have been content plopping on the couch with a comforting meal watching a scary movie, but it was Felix’s birthday. So we made our way to the hip part of the Mission at Medjool. First of all, we had Hunter the skunk with us. I absolutely love being a mother, but dragging Hunter to a roof top bar is tasteless. I’m that person. I’m that parent. I felt slightly foolish for bringing him as Halloween in San Francisco is a drunker’s delight. Originally, we were just dropping in for a drink and making our way to a restaurant. So why am I sitting here tending to Hunter three drinks later? My drinking days are on “pause”. For Shane, it’s a reason for him to mingle with his friends. Ah the fun tryst of parenthood. As I don’t find any tingling sensation when urinating on his fun, we were heeding ten o’clock with an empty stomach. There goes our dinner plans, hello burrito!

In most cases, to be a parent means to be flexible. In my case, to be a wife meant to be patient.

Mantra: Marriage is priority. Kid comes second.

So why do I feel so slighted tonight? Shane never coerced me into it. For some death defying reason, I am not allowing motherhood to slow me down. It shouldn’t! At the same time, I don’t want to be that loser at the roof bar with the my son again. I need to start being a mom to my son. Ding! There’s an idea! So I shed the cool skin? I gain myself a sweet skunk.

This is Shellie having a treat of a time back to you Bob at the studio!