Been a long time, been a long time, been a long lonely, lonely, lonely....

It's come to my attention - and with great fervor I might add - the type of woman/housewife/mother I am to be.

On a recent trip to Duane Reade, I had the pleasure of witnessing the first box of Halloween candy make its way to the shelf. In this moment of excitement prefaced by the all too common "Really? It isn't even October yet..." I had a day dream. Suddenly, I was 35 years old living in a generic suburban neighborhood. My house was custom built but not loud or austere. The perfect sized, all around brick two story. There were two cars in the driveway but only one of which was luxury, and from the feel of it, I could sense that I had two children - a boy and a girl - somewhere between the ages of 8 and 11.

In my daydream, it was fall. Spookily close to October, in fact. (Ironic given what was taking place in the real world outside this imaginary vision.) I was at a nearby drug store purchasing candy for the upcoming holiday (another irony.) But out of nowhere, panic! I could feel it - both in my dream and out of it. A light turning of the stomach, "I can't just get any normal candy" I thought to myself, "I have to get sometime that kids will remember. I don't want them walking away from my front door with anything other than a 'Yes, I LOVE this candy!'" Or better yet "Mrs. Micky is the COOLEST!"

Now. I realized what you're thinking. First, kids are fickle. By the end of a trick-or-treating marathon and average kid will have declared something along these lines no less than 5 times each. I don't weigh this factor in to my wishful praises. To hear it said is all that I ask. What happens prior to said statement or afterward is of no consequence to me. And second, yes "Mrs. Micky" - I am presumably married in my delusional stupor.

So why the need to be nominated by children under the age of 10 as "Best Candy-Giver on the Block?" Say what you will about a lack of love in my childhood or an insatiable need to please. The root of this is much more simple. I want to be thought of as "cool." This does not mean that I'm the pushover mom or the overly obedient housewife. It only suggests that staying on the vast majority of the neighborhood children's "awesome list" is important and maybe borderline necessary to me. I want them to feel I still have some sense of what they like, what they look forward to and what is important to them (however trivial is seems to the overly-grown grown-ups). A mutual respect, of sorts. You do your job as a child, I'll do mine as an adult and on occasions like Halloween, we will meet halfway.

Of course this entire realization took place in a matter of seconds as most dreams do. Quickly, I was back to grabbing the work necessities I originally came for: notebooks, milk for coffee, etc. But I also grabbed a a few varieties of candy. Once I was back to my desk, I took out a bowl and filled it with a nice even mixture of the picks I made. One by one, my fellow employee's would walk by and let out whispered but important "oohs" and "aahs" followed by the under-appreciated "Thank you." I'd smile unassumingly and revel in what now becomes my secret satisfaction, especially when I hear "Oh man! I love these things, haven't had one in forever..."

I've cheered up their day and they've cheered up mine in that "I still got it" kind of way.