Halloween sneaks up on me like a ghost in the night, causing a flurry of activity to buy candy, come up with costumes, and navigate schedules to make sure I observe properly with each of my children. This year we had the unfortunate obligation to stretch the holiday over two days—as if one wasn’t grueling enough. 

I actually look forward to Halloween, as it usually means celebrating with friends and an excuse to eat chocolate somewhat guilt free. Friday the 30^th started with a trip to a pumpkin farm with my four year old, Eli, and some of his preschool classmates. I chased him through the corn maze; we bounced on the traditional hay ride, picked mini pumpkins and gourds, and drank apple cider. Eli loved picking his own pumpkin.  I was excited to buy more holiday junk to decorate the front of my house.   

We rushed home from the farm to make it to Jefferson School in time for the costume parade. For the last few weeks, I have asked my nine year old, Jacob, what he wanted to be for Halloween but he could never decide. The night before the parade I suggested he wear his fall baseball uniform—easy and comfortable. His team is the Bears so I cut out negative newspaper headlines and taped them to his jersey so he could be a Bad News Bear. He loves the movie so I thought it was simple and clever. When he saw the jersey, he rolled his eyes in disgust, but what choice did we have at the last minute? When I got to the parade, he was the only kid in his class not in costume. When I called out to him he pretended not to see or hear me. In fourth grade, he’s already too cool for school. I wondered why I even showed up. 

There was no time to ponder that because I had to dash off to the Marshall parade. Watching all the kids in their costumes made Eli itch to get into his so in a few minutes, tiny Batman appeared by my side.  My six year old, Aden, dressed as a NY Giant (again!) and waved enthusiastically when he saw me. So, I was one for two.  

Our next activity was the Maplewood village party. I pulled the kids into town in a wagon and entered the chaos.  I love the mass celebration because it showcases our special community and its creativity with some amazing costumes. But the huge crowd and my kids’ single-minded need for candy collide and I often find myself in a panic, unable to keep track of them. We navigated our way through the mini superheroes, princesses, athletes, and gorillas and stopped at nearly every establishment to fill our buckets. The weather was nice and it was fun to see so many people you know in one place. 

Jacob immediately ditched us for his friends so I only had to manage Eli Manning and Batman. But that still was a challenge and just as we were halfway through, I lost Batman somewhere between Arturo’s and Scriveners. He let go of his balloon and as I turned to watch it float in the sky, I missed that caped crusader dashing off the other way. About seven minutes of panic later—after alarming and recruiting several helpful friends to search--I found him sitting on the curb, talking to a teenager and looking through his bucket. Eli is also allergic to peanuts so leaving him alone with unchecked candy is nerve wracking at best. Both relieved and aggravated, I decided it was time to go home. 

We reprised Halloween on Saturday with trick or treating and a family party. All day there was a buzz in the air about when the kids could start bugging neighbors for candy. Unfortunately, it was drizzling most of the evening so it was a soggy sojourn. But that never stops a child with eyes as big as peppermint patties. I enlisted my husband to escort them on their candy quest. I stayed home to answer the doorbell. After gathering all the Starburst, Snickers, Skittles and Sour Patch Kids their little arms could carry, they headed home. At a party on Collinwood Road, about eight kids threw their candy on the floor like poker chips and began the negotiating. Apparently, it’s great sport to exchange candy currency to demonstrate one’s prowess and luck in getting the best sweets in your stash.   

Out of the rain and finished with most parental duties for the night, I had some witch’s poison and sank into a chair, exhausted from the events of the last 36 hours. Halloween—like many holidays—is all anticipation and very little payoff.  But I know we’re building memories, we’ll have cute pictures (at least of my two little guys who actually dressed up) and enough candy to make Willy Wonka blush.