Halloween Sucks

Halloween sucks.  I rank it up there with root canal and the second grade violin concert, but the fact that it lasts a whole 24 hours, if not an entire weekend, puts it in a different category all together.  The residual effects, can last at least a week, depending upon how quickly I can lose the 5 pounds I slapped on.  The kids’ sugar high and my hangover are usually quicker to get over.

In my house, things start revving up right around the time summer vacation is ending.  We’ll be partaking in another one of my all-time favorite pastimes, “back-to-school shopping,” when one of my darlings will casually drop the question, “What should I be for Halloween?”  I blame myself, as I spent many an hour on the beach threatening capital punishment for anyone who even mentions Halloween before September 1st.  Clearly not the best laid plan, as there are few things as jarring as those words, when you are busy beating off other mothers and young children for the last jumbo-sized Book Sox.

If I am on the ball, and can pull a really good costume idea right out of my butt, I have saved myself weeks of torture, leaving ample time to concentrate on my candy purchases: my annual stash of Goldenberg’s Original Peanut Chews to remain hidden from my kids, and, or course a little something for the trick-or-treaters.

But I’m rarely on the ball and have spent oodles of time coming up with such unique costumes as “witch,” “beauty queen,” “baseball player,” and “Dracula.”  This year, I’m proud to say, I was on the ball, perhaps giddy with the notion that I was down to one kid to outfit, and quickly responded, “Why don’t you go as one of those idiots on that Jersey Shore show?”  As I was speaking to my 12 year old son who has recently illustrated a self-love of his developing physique, I was referring to the moronic male  MTV character with the six pack abs.  So I was only marginally surprised to hear his reply: “That’s a great idea, I’ll go as Snooki.”

I felt the jealous glares of all the other mothers, at the annual Halloween Parade, as my boy passed by in a skin-tight, strapless, sweet-heart neckline, leopard-print mini dress, complete with 32Cs, an enormous wig and Versace sunglasses.  His spray tan was luminous in the early autumn sunlight, and the boxer shorts peeking out at the hem were just the perfect touch.

When my kids were younger I usually took a sail with the Captain (Morgan) to ease me through the trauma and drama of three kids in costumes, the face makeup and the various accoutrements that require that special glue to adhere to their tender skin….And it’s a good thing, too, that my Max wanted those Frankenstein bolts glued to his scrawny neck or we never would have discovered the excitement of the ER on Halloween.  A latex allergy can certainly amp up your holiday!

It was during those years that I developed a strategy for getting the kids through their candy in the aftermath, that I am rather proud of, as it was quite successful for some time.

You might observe that many parents labor under the delusion that kids should partake in full, healthy meals on Halloween, as a combatant to the junk.  This is absurd.  Arguments are sure to ensue.  It’s a waste of food, the time it takes to prepare, and most of all, the ounce of sanity you have left after the whole epipen incident involving the mask that you knew was latex, but just couldn’t prove. What’s even more ridiculous is that these same parents spend the next month methodically doling out one piece of candy after dinner every night for the rest of the month, or longer.  These people are effectively prolonging the agony of the whole Halloween scenario, and isn’t that what we are trying to avoid???

My well devised strategy starts with setting up a false sense of security.  When you hand your kids the biggest sack you can find, encouraging them to get as much candy as possible, they will think you are on their side!  Ignore the puzzled looks of your five year old as you pull out that king sized pillow case that’s bigger than he is.  You know the truth, that that sack is going to become so cumbersome  that he will run out of steam before you can see the bottom of your glass.

The next part is easy: don’t bother to make dinner.  When they come in the door declaring how starving they are after dragging those heavy sacks around the neighborhood, tell them to dig in.  That’s right, eat up kids!!  Enjoy!!  This is when you might want to pour yourself another spiked cider before the ravages of their sugar high kick into gear.

Over the next day, keep your cooking to an absolute minimum, and your alcohol intake to a maximum, as you encourage a continuous gorging of candy.  If you need to drag the kids on your errand run, make sure they bring their sacks along.  By now you might be wearing thin, but trust me, you are almost through it.  You should be buoyed by the notion that your kids think you are the bomb. Their friends are already on round four of arguments over why they are only allowed to eat their candy after dinner.

By the next morning, if your kids aren’t in the hospital having their stomach’s pumped, expect to find them in the full swing of the plan, setting in front of their morning shows, sacks in their laps, their rapidly rotting teeth gnawing away on a sickeningly sweet scented Laffy Taffy.  But the party is over!!  They will react with shock as you rip the sacks out of their grubby hands and the Taffy from their braces.  You likely “forgot” to tell them that the goal was to eat as much as possible in 24 hours, the remains destined for lunch boxes, large quantities at a time, of course!  Truth be told, they’ll be too strung out to fight you over it, and you’ve successfully passed the problem along to their teachers.

Happy Halloween!