Lucky Dorito

When I opened up my blog to host *Mom-stories* this month, featuring the “voices” of others - I had hoped that the bloggers that regularly read here might be willing to share their stories with me. I never dreamed how many of you would respond - or that there might be new readers willing to share as well. I am thrilled that todays post is exactly that - from a new reader! I’ve included part of the email from Carol introducing her story and the link to her blog. I absolutely love the story she is sharing!

I have a story from you—it sort of combines two holidays that are rarely linked—Mother’s Day and Halloween.

It’s one of my most favorite memories and it’s from my forthcoming book, Said Child.

She was my adoptive mom, and I have tons of stories about my childhood—and hers—and all the good, and not so good things that happen along life’s journey.

I hope you’ll be able to use it on your blog, and I’d love to cross post. My website is www.mothering-mother.com and my blog link is there.

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Daddy had been in the hospital for back surgery on Halloween the year I was eight. It was an especially cold Georgia Halloween night and I fidgeted beside his hospital bed, tired of coloring and wanting to go home and get on my fairy costume and go trick-or-treating. By the time Mama and I kissed Daddy goodbye, made it out of the hospital, and hit the cold night air of the parking lot I realized it was long since dark. The cold bit into my chest. No Halloween candy tonight, I thought and sighed. Mama could feel it and squeezed my hand.

“Don’t worry, I have an idea,” she said as she walked a little faster.

We hurried into our cozy home and I moped around, standing on the heater grate, curling my sock feet over the metal edges for warmth. Mama burst out of her bedroom. She had an idea. ”Count to one hundred, and then come knock on my bedroom door.”

There was a twinkle in her eye I didn’t recognize. I wondered what was she up to but I did as I was told. “Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.” Knock knock.

Mama cracked open the bedroom door. She peeked out with a sheet over her head and

“Ooohhh!” She moaned like a ghost. I squealed with delight.

“I am a Halloween ghost!” she said in a low voice spooky voice. “Would you like some candy, little girl?”

I ran and got my orange plastic pumpkin bucket and thrust it toward the door. Mama dumped in a handful of Bit-O-Honey candies. She leaned down and whispered for me to count to one hundred again with my eyes closed, and then go to the bathroom door and knock. She motioned for me to turn away as she ran to the next room.

Mama opened the bathroom door wearing Daddy’s trench coat and hat and a mustache she must have drawn on with her eyebrow pencil. I giggled until I fell down and then held out my plastic pumpkin as she emptied Bazooka bubble gum into it.

We ran from room to room, each time Mama appeared as a new character—a maid with apron and spoon in the kitchen, a evening lady in gown and hat in the closet, a little girl with curlers in her hair and a teddy bear from my room. Each door filled me with anticipation and wonderment. Mama wasn’t so boring after all. As regular as a clock, she kept my childhood in order. She made sure I scrubbed under my fingernails and practiced my times tables. But she was also the mother who surprised me behind every door.

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