My mother-in-law told me to wear a pumpkin costume to hide my “extra rolls.” I’d given birth six months earlier, and my nine-year-old daughter heard every word. I thought that would be the worst part of Sharon’s Halloween party, but then I discovered what she’d prepared for our family photographs.
The night before the party, my daughter, Ava, found me standing in the laundry room, holding a black dress against my chest while our six-month-old son, Noah, kicked his feet in a bouncer.
“Can you do my makeup too?”
“Mom, can you still be a witch this year?”
“I hope so, honey.”
Ava studied the dress.
“Because last year you had the green face and the big hat. You looked like a real witch, but a nice one.”
“High praise.”
“Can you do my makeup too?”
I hung the dress on the door. I hadn’t worked up the nerve to try it on.
“Absolutely.”
She smiled and ran off to find her costume.
I hung the dress on the door. I hadn’t worked up the nerve to try it on.
My husband, Mark, found me staring at it.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Your mother’s party is tomorrow, and I don’t know if this still fits.”
Between work and night feedings, I barely had time for myself anymore.
“She said costumes are optional.”
“Your mother says lots of things.”
Mark gave me a tired smile. We were both running on broken sleep and reheated coffee. Between work and night feedings, I barely had time for myself anymore.
“I don’t want another joke about my weight,” I said.
“Mom doesn’t always think before she speaks.”
“Grandma said her party is going to be fancy.”
“Then maybe she should start.”
Before Mark could answer, Noah started crying.
Later that evening, Ava helped me decorate three dozen cupcakes for the party while Mark washed bottles.
“Grandma said her party is going to be fancy,” Ava announced.
Mark groaned.
“She mentioned pictures to me four times.”
Sharon’s house looked ready for a magazine shoot.
“Five,” I said. “She texted me another reminder.”
He checked his phone.
“Apparently we’re supposed to arrive early.”
“We are. I promised to help set up.”
The next morning, Sharon’s house looked ready for a magazine shoot. Plastic bats hung from the porch. Every pumpkin had a matching bow. Inside, the dining table was covered in orange plates nobody was allowed to touch yet.
She settled him in his stroller near the hall before turning to me.
Sharon opened the door wearing a black velvet cape.
“My babies!”
She hugged Ava and took Noah from Mark’s arms.
“There’s my handsome boy. Look at those cheeks.”
She settled him in his stroller near the hall before turning to me.
“You look exhausted.”
“I mean it kindly. You need more sleep.”
“Good morning to you too.”
“I mean it kindly. You need more sleep.”
“I’ll tell Noah.”
I carried the cupcakes into the kitchen, while Mark headed back outside to finish unloading the car.
Ever since Noah was born, Sharon had commented on my stomach, my appetite, and every woman she knew who’d lost her baby weight. Whenever I objected, she claimed I couldn’t take a joke.
That morning, I promised myself I wouldn’t let her ruin Halloween.
