Bring Back The ‘Great Pumpkin’

We missed the annual showing of “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown”—and, I guess we weren’t the only family passing on this great autumn tradition. According to a recent article in Ad Age, viewership for the “Great Pumpkin” was down 18%. There was a time when the “Great Pumpkin” was a must-see event. We would plan our entire family schedule around that one half-hour the week before Halloween—all of us sitting in the living room waiting in great anticipation for the Great Pumpkin to arrive in the pumpkin patch. I remember how excited I was to begin watching it with my own children—trying to recreate the memory for myself, but more importantly, passing it off to the next generation. But, this year it was different. Two of my three children had planned activities (and nothing says ‘Happy Halloween’ quite like a muddy, rainy football game followed by a band concert in a hot, stuffy gym) and by the time we got home, the show was over. Yes, I was sad that we missed Linus and his pumpkin patch, but I was more upset by my kids’ reactions to the news:

“Ah, we won’t be home?” Said Hanna. “That’s too bad. Maybe we could just buy the DVD and not have to worry about it.”

“Maybe it’s on YouTube,” replied Nate. “Then, you could watch it at your desk.”

“We’re missing what?” Asked Jack. “Who’s Charlie Brown?”

YIKES!! Not only did we miss the show, but no one really cared that we missed the show—except me. Is an entire generation missing out on one of my greatest Halloween memories? Soon an entire group of children will not wait with anticipation for the Great Pumpkin to arrive or think having toast and popcorn would make an interesting Thanksgiving dinner or laugh when Snoopy is the winner of the Christmas decoration contest. An entire generation without Charlie Brown’s holiday magic–hard to imagine isn’t it?

I am probably being too sensitive—after all, this was the first Halloween where two of my children went out with their friends instead of shuffling through the neighborhood streets with us. We had just one lone trick-or-treater on our hands and quite honestly, Jack would have ditched us for his own friends if we would have let him. It is just another sign that times are changing—kids are growing up—and those moments of childhood are truly fleeting.

I sometimes forget that they are getting older. In my mind Jack will forever want to snuggle with me on the couch, Nate will always run to me when he gets hurt and Hanna will ask for my opinion on everything from clothing to school. I have watched each of them slip further and further into becoming his or her own person—and while I like the people they are becoming, I sometimes miss who they used to be.

I know my children have to grow up, but I can’t help but feel just a little sad every time they inch forward on their own.  It’s just like watching Linus in his pumpkin patch—we know there really isn’t such a thing as the ‘Great Pumpkin’, yet we’re disappointed nonetheless when he doesn’t arrive.

Happy New School Year

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t look forward to buying school supplies.  As a kid I would wait anxiously for the “back-to-school” signs to popup in the stores and spend hours picking out the right colored folders and perfect pencils.  I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a new box of crayons or a smooth, flawless pink eraser and I would spend countless hours organizing my new school loot in preparation for the first day of school. With my school days long gone, I still find great joy in the school supply shopping excursion.  I love watching my children make their selections and rush home to put every piece carefully in their new backpacks.  Suddenly the excitement of summer is replaced by the anticipation of a new school year.

Although my kids may not feel new notebooks and highlighters are anything more than school supplies, to me they symbolize a new beginning—a chance to start with a clean slate so to speak.  For a brief moment I have forgotten all about the endless nights of arguing over homework, the fights with friends and the seven pairs of gloves lost during winter recess football games.  I find myself longing for filling lunch boxes with nutritious goodies and spending afternoons playing chauffeur to kids with ball practices and band programs.  “This is my year,” I say to myself in the mirror.  “This is my year to go from overwhelmed mother to school-mom extraordinaire.”

But, before long, the school year begins and the fresh, clean notebooks are soon tattered and torn.  The schedule gets hectic, the homework gets hard and my kids and I find ourselves longing for lazy weekend afternoons.  I guess that’s why I cherish those back-to-school shopping moments so much—they give me that rare opportunity to be able to fix all that is broken or achieve all that is hard by simply buying my child a Chicago Bears lunchbox or a Hollister backpack.  Nothing seems impossible with a good, sharpened pencil and a fresh pad of paper.

This school year we are embarking on a lot of new “firsts” for our family.  My daughter is spending her 8th grade year in a new middle school and is now joined by her brother who is starting 6th grade.  And, my youngest son is stepping into first grade without the comfort of his big brother and his fifth grade entourage.   As we sifted through folders and picked out backpacks I couldn’t help but relish in the thought that this could truly be “our year.”

Better with Age?

It is one of those unbelievable cool July days—the kind where you begin thinking football and crackling leaves and find yourself surprised that you still have swim towels drying on the patio chairs.  I have decided to skip impending work projects and laundry folding and make my way to the sunlit patio to begin leafing through the plethora of magazines that have spent many a week lying on my family room floor.

“I wonder if I know anyone that has been to a ‘Botox Party’?”  I innocently ask out loud as I begin reading an article on the subject.

“What’s that?” Nate replies as he walks over to the patio and pulls up a chair.

“It’s a party where women go to have Botox injections.”  Nate’s expressionless face quickly tells me that my answer means absolutely nothing to his 11-year-old mind.  “They stick a needle in your wrinkles to make them smooth,” I add.

“Yuck, who would want to do that?”

“People who want to look younger.”

“Why would you ever want to be younger than you are?”  

Isn’t looking at the world through an 11-year-old’s eyes wonderful?  At 11, you can’t imagine anyone wanting to be younger—after all, with age comes great opportunities such as being able to ride your bike one more street over in the neighborhood or going to the movies with just your friends.  We mark our calendar for those age milestones such as turning 13, 16, 21—eagerly anticipating all the great things that the new age will let us do and the great person we will be able to become.  

Something happens to us—I’m guessing somewhere in our thirties—where age stops being something we look forward to and starts becoming something we dread.  We begin to see how precious time really is and how quickly it flies when we are preoccupied with kids, work and life in general.  And then, when we hit a major milestone (for me it was 40), we find ourselves frozen in fear—fearful that we may have nothing else to accomplish or to become.  This, we think, may be as good as it gets.

I reply, “Some people believe that getting older means they aren’t as good as they used to be, so they try to keep themselves looking young.”

“Are you as good as you used to be?”  

What is with this kid today?  I wasn’t prepared for such deep, introspective questioning from the boy whose conversations usually include some type of sports’ reference or sixth-grade boy humor.   

“Well, Nate, probably not,” I reply.  “But, I’m not really sad about it—at least I’m not sad enough to have a needle put into my forehead.”

“So, you don’t wish you were younger?”

“Not really, I kind of like life right where it is—not wishing it would move forward too fast or even move backwards.”  I stop for a moment and realize that I should probably take advantage of this rare serious discussion with Nate.  “You know what, Nate?  You should like life right where it is as well—not always wanting to be a few years older just so you can ride your bike to Dairy Queen with your friends.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about doing that as I watch the other guys come back with their ice cream cones,” he replies.  “Hey, what’s under there?”

“Under where?”

Nate laughs as he runs to the front yard yelling, “I just made you say ‘underwear.’”

It’s nice to see this serious side of Nate is no match for the funny side.  I kind of like him with a little dirt on his face, spitting sunflower seeds through a baseball dugout fence and sharing jokes with his friends about bodily functions and words deemed ‘inappropriate’ for casual conversations such as ‘underwear’ and ‘sports cups’.  

But, it’s always nice to see there is a little more to Nate than meets the eye—and with age, he will undoubtedly become better.  Don’t we all?