Y'all, I have never been a huge or inspired fan of Halloween. Costumes aren't my bag. I believe my best effort was in high school when I pinned lots of purple balloons to a sweatshirt, made some odd green felt hat and called myself a bunch of grapes. Halfway through trick-or-treating, I'd popped completely and just had to call it quits. My laziest costume came about in college when I dressed in black, drew a moon on one cheek and a star on the other and declared myself Night. When my friends and I reached the party to which we were headed, and I saw all my guy friends dressed as Hasid cheerleaders, I felt pretty lame. It's not like Halloween in Chicago is warm, so really, they and pretty much everyone else put me to shame. Until I had kids, in fact, the only thing I did much like about Halloween was candy corn, a sweet that is nearly unpalatable the rest of the year but right around 31 October draws me in with some sort of waxy, sugary allure.
The kids think Halloween is AWESOME, and though I've still not found the love for it, I try to be festive for them. If, however, they suggested going out just with their dad tonight, I would take them up on it 5 minutes ago. Damn would I love to just light a fire and have a glass of wine in peace and quiet. I'm got a hell of a headache and am tired as get-out. Rather, T and I will watch -and they are cute when they amble up to people's doors- as the boys go nuts with glee and become increasingly high. Then we'll wrestle them into bed and I'm sure there will be tears along the way.