Halloween. That time of year that everybody loves. Oh boy, let’s all pay 100 bucks to dress up in a costume that we’re never gonna wear again. Sounds fun.
If you can’t tell, I’m a little sour about Halloween. I’m a shitty mom when it comes to stuff like this. Like going to the pumpkin patch. Been there once, seen it. Cool. Never want to go again. But we have to go, because Dale takes Madison every year, and wants it to be Oliver’s tradition too. WHY? I always ask him. Every year, I say the same thing. “It’s dirty, there are bugs, and germs, and 18 gajillion snot-nosed kids running around. I don’t even like kids. I barely like my own!”
I don’t want to ride on the stupid hay rack and get straw in my shoes. I don’t want to shuffle through the pumpkin patch and get my clothes all filthy. I don’t want to walk through the attractions. And those damn stands with holes where you put your head and take a picture…Do you know how many other people have put their faces in those holes? Sick.
Yes, I bought Oliver a costume, but I waited until last minute and spent a total of 14 dollars on it. I’m going to put it on him and take a picture, and he’s probably going to fuss until he gets it off. No, I’m not taking him trick or treating, because he’s still too young to eat all the candy anyway.
And when he’s older, every year, I will reluctantly go through the motions, but I’ll still hate it. I’ll be secretly hoping that he hates it too. I hate walking around in the cold to collect candy from the neighbors. Wouldn’t it be easier for me to go to Walgreens and buy the $3.00 bag of mixed candy and just give it to my kid? And whose freaking idea was it to hand out candy anyway? It’s 9pm by the time trick or treating is over. What freaking parent lets their kid sit and eat a bag of candy at 9pm? Oh, and then because every body is scared of every thing, you have to shuffle through all the shit to make sure nobody put needles in your kid’s snicker bar, or razor blades in your kid’s apple, or rat poison in the pixie sticks.
Handing out candy isn’t even fun. Who wants to answer their door 37 times in one hour? Oh, pick me! I want to see 16 Elsas, 5 Spongebobs, 14 Spidermans, and the occasional douchebag whose way too old to be trick or treating, but does it anyway. And every time, I’m expected to say, “Awwwww, how cute,” when really, I want to tell them their costume is ugly and unoriginal.
And carving pumpkins. Who was the genius that thought of that one? What a freaking mess. Every kid wants to do the grandest of grand for their design, and they barely make it through cleaning out the inside of the pumpkin. Then it’s, “Moooommm, it’s too hard. Daddy, can you help me?” So as parents, were stuck sitting there in a nasty pile of pumpkin goo carving a pumpkin we didn’t even want to carve. And at the end, your kid can say, “Mom, look what a good job I did.” That sounds like a grand time. Not.
I sound mean, but I have a reason for hating Halloween. It’s my Dad’s birthday. So…obviously his favorite holiday. Every freaking year, it’s like a national holiday at his house. The roof is decorated, he plays the Halloween music and has the strobe lights…sooooo spooky. He grows pumpkins in his freaking front yard. And then you have to spend 18 hours carving a bat in a tree with a moonlit background.
He buys those stupid 80 dollar masks that scare the shit out of everybody. He puts them on and won’t talk to anyone all night. I get to prance around town and say, “Yep, that’s my dad.” Real proud. I think he finds humor in scaring little children. Which is kind of funny, but come on, is it really worth 80 bucks?
When I was a kid, if you wanted to be a witch, you couldn’t just put on a black hat and grab a broom…you had to spend three freaking hours sitting there while your dad glued a chin, big nose, and warts all over your face with stage makeup. By the time you were done, you were exhausted, crabby, uncomfortable, and ready for bed.
Then, when it was finally time to trick or treat, we couldn’t just go around our neighborhood. We had to go to EVERY freaking neighborhood in Council Bluffs. We had to go to the “good” ones that gave out full-size snicker bars. We had to go to the lady that made popcorn balls. I don’t even freaking like popcorn balls. It was an all night event. You get home, and can barely walk because you just trekked for 30 miles to get free candy. And then your dad gets high and eats it all.
And finally…Haunted houses. Let’s address this one quickly. I H-A-T-E them. Why should I pay somebody to make me piss my pants? There is NOTHING fun about having the shit scared out of you. Or being chased by a baby troll. Or almost being cut in half by a guy with a chain saw. Nope, not for me. I’ll sit that one out.
So what’s the point I’m trying to make here?
- Don’t be the parent who makes your kids hate Halloween when they’re older.
- But don’t be all bitter like me either, and ruin it for your kids. Just get through it.
One day out of the whole year. I can do this. And then the zombies go away, the trolls go back where they came from, and the Elsa’s disappear for another 365 days. Thank freaking god!