
Illustration by Chris Danger
In our household, the end of summer and the advent of autumn are greeted with relief and unabashed enthusiasm. Gone are the hot, long dog days of summer during which my wild, half-naked kids spend their days competing to see who can destroy the house the fastest. Instead, there is school and structure and blessed quiet time with the children out of the house.
As a mom, I love everything about fall — the detailed lists of school supplies, the shiny new backpacks and shoes, the hints of crispness in the air. I love the cheesy front porch photo-ops on the first day of school, the waves and kisses in the carpool lines, the art that comes home each day to litter my refrigerator.
I also have a deep and abiding love for autumn-centric outings. Right on schedule, I load up the kids in the minivan, the whole family decked out in our plaid fall finest, and convince myself that our little autumn-themed jaunts will be FUN. And every year, my expectations crumble in the face of reality.
Apple Picking
Expectation: The entire family photo-ready, coordinated in different shades of flannel, will stroll through a scenic orchard on a cool fall day. The kids will squeal with delight as they pick fresh apples off the tree and place them carefully in their bags, amazed by the bounty of nature. Afterward we will enjoy hot cider and dream about the pies we will bake with our hand-picked abundance.
Reality: Within seconds of arriving, we have all soaked through our matching outfits, because there is no such thing in Virginia as cool weather in September. Someone always gets stung by a bee. The baby takes tiny bites out of every apple she sees before tossing them on the ground. By the time we are ready to leave, we are all red-faced and sweating. I have to bribe the kids with doughnuts to get them to sit still for the perfect family photo. Even then, at least one child will undoubtedly be in tears.
The Pumpkin Patch
Expectation: Once again coordinating in our best cozy fall attire, we will stroll through a scenic farm, searching for perfect pumpkins. The kids will each pick out his or her own adorable little gourds that match their sweet personalities, and we will end the outing with hot cocoa and a hayride.
Reality: Once again, no one is dressed appropriately for the weather, and the baby almost gets heatstroke because I have forced her into a wool sweater and a knit beanie on an 85-degree day. We somehow spend $75 for three pumpkins, and that doesn’t include the cost of the artisanal cocoa. We leave the diaper bag back at the car and have to MacGyver one of our cardigans into a makeshift diaper, avoiding the horrified stares of the other passengers on the hayride.
Baking Autumn Treats
Expectation: With my kids as my sweet and patient assistants, I will cook up a spread that would make even Paul Hollywood proud. There will be banana bread and pumpkin muffins and apple pies as far as the eye can see. We will share the gorgeous results with our friends and neighbors, and from this point forward, people will think of us as that amazing family that bakes together.
Reality: By the end of our attempt, someone is covered in flour and weeping on the kitchen floor, and it’s not necessarily one of the children. The banana bread is undercooked. The pumpkin muffins are dry. And thanks to my assistants, the apple pie filling is inexplicably sprinkled with goldfish crackers. No one will ever taste or hear of our food, because it will be secretly carried out to the trash in the dark of night while the kids are sleeping.
Attending a Football Game
Expectation: There’s nothing quite as quintessentially autumn Americana as a football game. We’ll dress the kids in team colors and cheer together in the stands. The baby will sit happily on my lap, and the older kids will love the noise of the stadium, making memories that will last a lifetime. It will be just like when we were young and kid-free, and our friends without kids will see how fun we still are.
Reality: There is no football game. We don’t make it past the tailgate, because one of the kids eats their weight in pigs-in-blankets and pukes all over the party spread. Our child-free friends will never again invite us to their tailgate and will change the topic whenever it comes up.
Despite the reality checks I so often receive as a parent, every year I find my autumn optimism renewed. And so, this year, like so many others, I will load up my family in the minivan and head for the pumpkin patch in outfits that are wildly inappropriate for the weather. Hope to see you out there.
Elizabeth Becker is a writer, a registered nurse and a mom of three. Read more about her life and other parenting epiphanies at lifeinacoffeespoon.com.