the H word

"why don't we have decorations on OUR house for halloween?" i hear from the back seat, as we drive through the neighborhood with the kids (apparently) marveling at the yards and homes of people far more festive than i am.

"because, kids, i hate halloween."

"MOM!" comes the swift admonition of the profanity police.  "you said the 'h' word!"

"you're right.  sorry.  i detest halloween."

and i'm not kidding.  i really don't like halloween.  i never have.  i don't like the ghosts and the goblins and the witches and the vampires and the monsters and the other nasty things kids dress up as, which can be downright scary, even to a 36-year old.  i don't like eerie music and fake fog and black cats and tombstones that litter people's yards in the attempt to, i don't know, get into the holiday spirit.  and i will never understand why the same people who hire housecleaners to get rid of their cobwebs, then go out to a craft store and buy materials to PUT cobwebs on their bushes and front porches.  (side note: i don't mind so much the pumpkins and haystacks and candy corn, so we do have a few decorations out.  i'm not a total halloween scrooge -- although as soon as november 1st hits, they're boxed up and back in the attic.)

you know what else i hate strongly dislike?  halloween costumes.  this i can link directly to my childhood, with a mother who never really got into the whole halloween thing herself.  i swear every year on the afternoon of october 31st, my younger sister and i would be racking our brains, trying to come up with something that could suffice as a costume.  we'd go find mom, who would shrug her shoulders and suggest that we go down to the basement to see what we could find.  inevitably we'd wind up trudging up the stairs holding the same rabbit costumes we had worn for the previous three years that were hand-me-downs from my dad's business partner's children.  the final year i wore my rabbit costume it wouldn't button in the back and the legs ended shortly below my knees, and that's how i knew i had officially participated in my last trick-or-treating.

another thing i hate strongly dislike: halloween catalogs.  my kids will spend hours poring over the costume section, oohing and aahing at every page. after declaring several different options his favorite, liam finally settled on wanting to be an Angry Bird this year.  i took one look at the price tag of $49.99 and became an Angry Woman.  (i did give in, somewhat, and bought a super mario costume at target for him.  i've actually never spent a dime on a halloween costume -- he was a soccer player last year and a baseball player the year before, both with uniforms he already owned, and we've borrowed the rest -- so i'm figuring an average of $2.50/year isn't too bad.  especially considering the fact that susanna was a carolina cheerleader, sporting the uniform she received as a christmas present last year.  from, come to think of it, my parents.  i suppose my mom has finally provided a halloween costume for someone.)

but none of this compares to how much i hate strongly dislike the kind of trick-or-treating we had last night.  normally, trick-or-treating is one of the small highlights of the season for me; i actually enjoy canvassing our neighborhood and seeing all the children on the sidewalks and watching liam and susanna's eyes light up as their plastic pumpkins grow increasingly heavy with candy.  but last night was not that kind of night.  it was FREEZING.  and it was POURING.  within two minutes of leaving the house, we were soaked.  i was dreaming of a hot bath and a glass of red wine before i'd even reached our mailbox.

at the end of the night, soaked to the bone -- but with smiles still on their faces. (mine was forced)

but the one good thing that came out of this dreadful day is sitting on my kitchen counter right now:  the five pounds of candy the kids collected just by walking down two streets.  each person who answered the door was so surprised/impressed/relieved to have trick-or-treaters that they wound up dumping their bowls into the kids' pumpkins.  and i'm extremely pleased to report that their loot isn't full of the junk like now-and-laters and good-and-plentys and organic gummy bears that inevitably wind up in the trash in early december.  this is five pounds of snickers and milky ways and twix and reeses, people!  kit kats and M&Ms and almond joys, all of which just so happen to be in the house all day, with me, while everyone else is gone.

so maybe halloween isn't so bad after all.