I HATE Halloween

I have a confession. I HATE Halloween. There, I said it. I hate it for what it was pre-kids and guess what, my hatred has only deepened after pushing a few out…

Thinking back to the days when Halloween pre-planning commencement took place as the 4th of July sun set, devising punny, ever so original, yet hot-to-trot costumes for the umpteen parties to come, I literally shudder at the memory.

As a female, without a kid in tow, the requirement seemed to be that you either come up with a disguise so over the top, so original that it’s acceptable to be the fully clothed funny side kick, or else, move over #metoo, there’s a whole lotta flopping around in fishnet, adorned by metal hooks and scaly 4 inch stilettos. Sexy fish-out-of-water is this holiday standard. No thank you, Halloween, I’d rather hug a hornet.

Breaking news: I’m coming to the realization that my sole purpose for having kids was to be granted my Halloween get-out-of-jail-free card.

The one and only year I was no longer required to participate in such torture was the year I was neither a hot flirty female, nor with child. I was merely a swollen mess of a pregnancy and hormones. I reasonably opted out of all parties (because no party is a party if I can’t booze). During my moment of candy corn bliss, I contently lounged on the couch (in my mu-mu), yelling at a barking Pup-Pup (the dog) as my husband stood at the door and creeped out the masses, practicing his weird dad jokes. Side note – to this day, my kids refer to him as “weirdo dad” daily…

As baby #1 came into the world followed by #2, life was upended by change in every aspect, with the exception of my loathing for Halloween, the insanity of Pup-Pup, and the extremity of “Weirdo Dad”.

Where Halloween was no longer spiders, spiked drinks, and scantily clad salaciousness, it now became a spotlight on my inadequacies in the categories of creativity, home economics, and holiday cheer. From costumes to cookies to cobwebs I can’t keep up. And to top it all off, somewhere along the way, my daughter became the regalia regulator requiring family themes:
Year 1: “Household Norms”: She was Pup-Pup, Pup-Pup was she, my husband was a light bulb (weird), and I defaulted to Disheveled New Mom (accessories included yoga pants, dirty hair, a professional grade camera, and tissues).

Year 2: A flock of birds (Pup-Pup was bird poop). I have nothing more to say.

Year 3: Bunnies (Pup-Pup played the role of a carrot). In full fur get-ups, Memphis supplied 90 degree fall weather and we all had a great time!

Year 4: The entire cast of “Frozen” reincarnated. Starring my daughter as Elsa, I was sidekick Anna ($100 later), Weirdo Dad took the role of Kristoff (by parting his hair differently and addressing my daughter as “Elsa”), my son balled up into Olaf and attempted not to melt, Pup-Pup perfected his role as Sven, the antler eating dog-deer.