Even though he has been begging for a solid month and a half that he wanted to be Buzz Lightyear, at the last moment he told us he wanted to be Batman. We nixed that since his Batman costume was small, not as warm, and had not cost us close to fifty dollars. (Disney store, you're so expensive but so awesome. You're the worst.)
With the weather being what is was, we had him all bundled up under the costume and he was grumpy about that too. After finally getting him to my mom's house and trick or treating there for a bit, he finally warmed up to the whole activity, gleefully running around from door to door, wondering why we were denying him the "lights off" houses.
I managed to keep up for one block before I went back to my mom's house to devour fruit and cheese we had brought for dinner. (On a less happy note, my heartburn is back and worse than ever. It was a pleasant two weeks I had without bad heartburn, but it appears that for me, pregnancy and heartburn are best friends.)
When N and P got back, N was covered in mud with wet socks and shoes. We quickly divested him of this gear and put him in his nice warm clothing and gave him a half a bowl of soup before allowing him to eat his weight in candy.
In other news, the tantrums are continuing and I'm still so tired and angry about it. I know I love my son and that he loves me, but I swear, the idea of every day preschool sounds so delightful right now. I could just rest.
Hey, in my continuing stories of women who could be my nemesis, here is a person who wants to spend their life eight months pregnant. It's interesting to note that she also has hard pregnancies, but doesn't even care. I like how she "anticipates" labor too. As opposed to my fearing labor.