Boo Humbug!

It feels safe to come out of my Halloween-hating closet now.  I really don't like to rain on anyone's parade, especially since this year it actually did rain on our Halloween, which made it more miserable than usual. And besides, by next Halloween, you'll forget all about my little rant.

Once a year I'm expected to hand out free candy for people who do nothing but dress up, walk around and ring doorbells. Heck, some of them don't even walk, but are chauffeured from neighborhood to neighborhood for handouts.

Every year, these things happen, without fail:

I buy candy too early, run out by Halloween and gain 10 pounds and a half dozen new pimples.

We scrounge around for costumes for boy wonder who comes up with a character not represented by any cheap, made-in-China costume for $9.99 at Target. Last year, he was a helicopter pilot and this year, a NASCAR driver.

My husband gets grand ideas for said costumes and spends ridiculous amounts of time trying to turn the wagon into a helicopter or decorating a jacket with race car stickers and reflective tape while I man the kid rodeo and he snaps impatiently at the kids. Last year, as I pondered how exactly the kids were supposed to get out of, let alone see anything, from a covered wagon he was trying to turn into a helicopter, he curtly replied, "Yeah, I'm just doing this so that no one has any fun." Right.

I unleash my fury on robocalling politicians who call back to back to back as my doorbell is ringing back to back to back. Yep, I scream at recordings. 

My husband tries to pump terrifying "music" (think chainsaws and bloodcurdling screams) into the yard while I remind him that he's going to give kids nightmares.

I rail at the lack of manners among trick or treaters, the pushing and shoving at the door, the expectant stares from these kids when I fork over merely two pieces of candy, the fact that people literally unload a dozen children from neighborhoods across town and the intimidating teens who show up after 8:00.

Someone rings the doorbell at 8:30, despite the fact that all the outdoor lights are off, and disturbs the later than usual bedtime routine, which is further exacerbated by sugared up children.

All this and trying to fit a holiday around the unpredictable whims of young children make this my least favorite holiday.

So boo humbug. As soon as my kids are old enough for me to ban trick or treating, I'm shutting off the porch lights, barricading the driveway and keeping the candy -- both bags of them.

The only fall holiday that is truly stress free for me is Thanksgiving. Christmas is stressful, for obvious reasons and New Year's depresses me. Thanksgiving is just about food, family, friends and football for me. No one expects gifts. I don't have to dress up. I don't have to come up with some way to improve myself over the next year. I can wear stretchy, comfy clothes, stuff my face from morning till night, nap, lounge by the fire, play football in the yard, take long or not so long walks and just be grateful for it all. Heaven on earth, I tell you.

November is about gratitude for me. I'm just grateful, for starters, that Halloween is over.