So, Em's been celebrating Halloween for a while this year. We bought the costume. We carved the pumpkin. We made the princess hat. We trick-or-treated the zoo (which was a madhouse and Emma loved it). To day care today, she wore black-cat socks (courtesy of Tiffany) and pumpkin clippies (courtesy of Grandma). Toni started her off with Halloween goodies and gifts and she kept going all day.

Tonight, she hit a tot carnival. She was oddly afraid of a cow-costumed college kid and most interested in the fire-safety area, where she could climb through a box, roll down a padded ramp and crawl under ropes (pretty interesting given her hat is about 12 inches tall). As long as we didn't ask her to go near the cow, she was perfect, saying "trick or treat" and "thank you" before anyone even got a chance to compliment her outfit (but always remembering to thank them if they did).

We also trick-or-treated a friends' neighborhood. It was the first year she was old enough to venture up to a house by herself. She needed a little help with the first door (stood there saying, "No, you do it," when we told her to knock) but was an old pro by the second house. What a big girl. (Check out Halloween 2002 and Halloween 2001 for comparison.)

But given that we generally only let her have two "treats" a day (and we hope those are more like pudding cups and smoothie pops than Bottle Caps and Jolly Ranchers), after lunch and dinner, we've got buckets of candy to get through. And we were out just late enough that we didn't get a single trick-or-treater -- or they skipped our street entirely, because there were only two porch lights on. So not only do we have all of Emma's haul from tonight, plus the zoo and even some from a homecoming parade a few weeks back, we have the two giant bags we bought. Looks like we'll be set for treats till Hanukkah.

Saw Chris Fowler, Kirk Herbstreet and the dreaded Lee Corso (who I hear will don a Schooner tomorrow) on my way to my car after work. A little surreal to have the Gameday guys set up in my parking lot. In a rush home to get Emma all geared up for Halloween, I didn't stop to watch. After all, it's not like my boy Mike Lupica was there or anything.

OK, I'm blogging. I swore I wouldn't. There are too many things I can't say -- too many things about friends, about family, about work that just wouldn't be prudent to put out there.

But here I am.

And I blame Julie. She created DotMoms, and I couldn't help myself. I had to post. As I told her, I spend all of my time contemplating Emma and being a mother. I'd love to participate in an online community that gives me a forum to discuss.

But that's not my blog. There are a million things I might want to mention that aren't appropriate there. Like the very scary Bert and Ernie we saw at Trick or Treat the Zoo. (OK, so that one might actually be appropriate for DotMoms. How strange was that tableau?)

So, it's me. I guess I won't tell anyone about this for a while, build up a few posts, see if I actually have things to say. (And anyone who knows me can't imagine me running out of blog fodder, I'm sure.)

(This post is also up at DotMoms.)

Emma's day care provider said something this week that made me laugh out loud. "Did your mom do things like this?" she asked, while holding Emma's carefully crafted princess hat. It's a masterpiece of felt, tulle and ribbon. Two-year-old Emma's going to be a princess tonight for Halloween, and no crown or tiara would do. She insisted that she needed the tulle-flowing tower instead.

So, after searching (to no avail) every store in our town, I ventured into Hobby Lobby. I bought my first glue gun and about four times as many supplies as I needed -- convinced I would have to make at least one or two practice hats. But nope. The first one was perfect. Emma's excited, and I'm beside myself with pride.

Did my mom do things like this? To only say "no" isn't nearly strong enough. I learned how to braid on a Barbie around 7 years old so I could teach Mom. She didn't come to school events, help me with my homework or know the names of my friends. She didn't bake cookies or even whip up Hamburger Helper or pick up McDonald's.

I'll give her some credit. She was a (mostly) single mom, with a parade of significant others. We were on the far side of the poverty line, and she alternated jobs in factories and as a waitress or barmaid to make sure there were groceries for me to feed my little brother.

But her free time wasn't spent nurturing her kids. We weren't the focus of her world. We moved from house to house -- and often couch to couch -- and school to school, following men and drugs. I was lucky enough to make it out.

Emma is my world. And I'm self-aware enough to know that a lot of what I do for her, I do for the young me. We try every weekend to have a big family breakfast, where Emma helps me stir up waffle batter or bake monkey bread or assists Adam in scrambling eggs. Our nights are full of Gymboree classes and playdates, library trips and walks to the park. We read books for hours on end. Our craft box is filled with paint and beads, magazines and construction paper.

We chronicle Emma's life in myriad ways: She's had her own web site since before she was born, and we already have more than a dozen photo albums and hours and hours of videotape. We keep a journal and a collection of artwork. There are about three existing pictures of me before college. I have no idea when I got my first tooth, took my first steps or learned to use the potty. Emma will be able to show her child all of these glimpses into her young life, and, I hope, remember some of our routines, rituals and traditions.

And when, after breaking out her glue gun, someone asks, "Did your mom do things like this?" she'll laugh and reply, "Did she ever."