I Hate The Day After Halloween!!
OK... maybe hate is a pretty strong word. Last night was quite possibly the most glorious night for Trick or Treating that my kids have ever experienced. For once there was no bitter wind, no snow, sleet or rain, but rather a suddenly balmy temperature as many people decided to sit outside on their front steps with the bowl of candy to savour this last gift or warmth before winter makes its presence felt. This was the first year that Bethany was able to keep up with Erin and not have to go back to the house early. They each had a friend along for the cruise around our neighbourhood. Since the forecast had called for a 60 percent chance of rain, I had decided earlier in the day not to spend 2 hours painting myself green for She-Hulk, but I did don the wig, put on my medieval top and boots with my black jeans to saunter around with the kids. The fact that I ended up holding a witch’s broom and hat for Bethany’s friend only added to the general weirdness. At least my friend Cheryl wore the white feather boa that her daughter quickly discarded. That would NOT have been warrior-like at all.
What I found hardest about last night was the candy insanity that only seems to grow more intense every year. We put off buying the treats until Saturday. I was very well behaved as long as the bags were all sealed until I began filling the bowl near the door at 4pm yesterday afternoon. By 4:05, I knew I was in trouble. I had a tiny taste to make sure that none of the candy was stale and then set to making sure we all ate a healthy supper. Sweets are one of my biggest downfalls and getting to pick what I wanted from their bags as my “Mom Tax” for a tiny pile of treats to enjoy was such fun. The girls sorted out their candy and divided it in to two piles: The “I must keep this” and the “Ewwww! I don’t like those!” piles. I let them each keep a dozen tiny bags of chips, Doritos or cheesies and then the wretched excess went back into our bowl to hand out. A small grocery bag for each of them was then properly labeled so that there will be no confusion as to whose bag is whose. After a late night snack and far too much stalling, I got them off to bed and managed to foist the remainder of the chips and candy off on a herd of gangly teenagers that were sauntering down the street. Imagine their surprise when this tall woman in warrior garb threw open a door and bellowed down the street at them. “Do you want the last of our treats?” The ensuing stampede was quite impressive, but the “Gee thanks, Ma’am!” was like a shot of cold water to the ego. A nibble or two from my Mom Tax pile helped a bit.
The cold reality of the day after hit like a ton of bricks this morning as I stared at the wrappers I had left on the shelf near my seat. I lined them up like so many tiny body bags to take stock of what I had actually consumed. The points count was scary... but it fit right in with the topic I had to share with the Weight Watchers group I lead ever Tuesday. Confession time... Leaders are not perfect! I have learned once again that I am just far better off when the treats I give out are something that I cannot stand, That way the only nibbling I do is from the Mom Tax pile.
I wonder how badly egged the house would get next year if I gave out the sticker sheets I saw at Wal-mart? Then again... with a husband who may be a principal next year, it might be hard to be sure what exactly triggered the eggings.
Sigh! Time to give the tiny wrappers a decent burial in my garbage bag and move on.