I turned off the front porch light, the official signal that Halloween is over, and crawled into bed so tired from a non-stop day, but a little buzzy from the 8:00pm Milky Way binge. I started thinking about the odd ritual that is Halloween:
Costumes.
I’m a little perplexed by the desire to take on another identity. I can barely manage the one that I have, much less a pretend one. I’m all for escapism (I prefer television and wine) but costumes have as much appeal to me as wool sweaters. Unbearably itchy, always sweaty, and difficult to keep in their original shape. My costume approach has always been about maximizing cuteness. Like in seventh grade, when my friends and I dressed up as “super models” which really just meant putting on as little clothing as possible and wearing a lot of make up. Classy.
Adult costume parties.
I think the majority of adults need more creativity in their lives. They need more opportunities to make things from concept to execution – really flex their imaginations. I came to this conclusion at an adult costume party over the weekend after seeing everyone’s creativity on full display. Then, there was the really fun part where everyone awkwardly stood around seeking acknowledgement of their cleverness. But making something, I do think that’s good for the soul.
Getting scared.
Not for me. You won’t see me entering a haunted house or watching a horror movie. No, sir. I’m too much of a control freak. Plus, I’m inherently jumpy and already scream at least once a day. As my husband says, “You know I’m in the house. How could I possibly be that scary?” Well….
Trick or treating.
As a concept, I hate it. The excess. The binge. The need for more, more, more. But then, the joy. Seeing how the simplest, most basic thing, like one box of Dots, can elicit so much happiness. Four boxes of Dots can make a person’s head explode. Dots are gross under any other circumstances. But somehow, some way, at Halloween, they are perfect. That is real magic.
Jack-o-lanterns.
That pumpkin/candle burning smell. Forget it. It gets me every time. It’s like childhood and time in one perfect odor. When I blow out the jack-o-lanterns at the end of the night, I’m always holding back tears.
Death.
Is that what Halloween is supposed to be about? Celebrating the dead? Staring down our own mortality? Celebrating our shadow sides? I like the clean, white lines of the plastic skeletons from Target that I use to decorate our house. That’s about as close as I get to death at Halloween.
Candy corn.
I love you. Lots.
But the best thing about Halloween is it always lives up to expectations. I have never, ever seen someone come home from trick or treating disappointed.
Halloween has none of the post-gift blues like a birthday or Christmas which always leaves you feeling, “Is that it?” It has none of the “best time ever” build up of New Year’s or the “maybe my family will finally get me” of Thanksgiving or the “did I really stay up that late for banging and smoke?” of Fourth of July.
You want candy, you get candy. At the end of the day, who cares about the costume? How many Reese’s did you score?
Is there candy in your bowl, sack, bucket? You must have had a great Halloween.
When Kaly doesn’t have her nose in a book, she wrangles and referees two elementary age boys and blogs about her humorous efforts to lead a mindful, connected life. She’s the author of Good Move: Strategy and Advice for Your Family’s Relocation, a book about the craziness of moving with kids. Her writing has been featured on sites such as Mamalode, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, and Scary Mommy to name a few. You can find her on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and Twitter.
Nice to read you again!