baby steps

Fall has always been my my favorite time of year. Not just because of the beautiful colors and the lovely cooler temperatures, but because important significant things have always happened to me during fall. (like changing life directions, like "finding" myself, like meeting and getting to know my husband...)
I just feel fall.
I feel happy, warm, honest, giving...
There is just no better time of year.
But there is one part about fall that I don't enjoy:

Halloween.
Yes, I know some of you are convulsing with sadness and outrage (Heather and Marla in particular), but I loathe Halloween.

You see, fall sets off my inner alarm clock for Christmas planning and shopping. I get in the Christmas spirit in late September so I find it hard to enjoy spending 60$ on some cheap polyester and Velcro costumes that will cause my children to slide into hypothermia by dusk on Halloween night.
I hate spending 15$ at a pumpkin patch just so my kids can gut a pumpkin that will inevitably be smashed by some kids trying to live out their teenage rebellion and leave me to clean up the remains.
I hate buying Halloween candy, eating it, then having to go buy more.
I hate all the horror movies and haunted houses.

I just hate spending all the time, money and energy on a pointless holiday when I really just want to fast forward to one that really matters. (Bring on thanksgiving and Christmas!)

But when you are mom, you don't get to skip holidays. Especially ones that involve your children ingesting lethal quantities of sugar.
So in an effort to be mother of the year, I have made a concerted effort to be more chipper about the whole holiday this year.

Here is my progress:
I bought some candy corn and stuck it in a jar.
I made some Halloween signs and put them in my home.
I made orange colored hot chocolate for the kids. (that stuff is NASTY.)
and I didn't complain once about the cost of the cheap, er, super cool costumes.
And Monday, I took the kids to the pumpkin patch. I let them pick out pumpkins. I didn't go so far as to take pictures, but I took them, and I didn't complain about spending the money on something that will be smashed on my street in a week.
We brought them home and set them on the porch.

And that, my friends, is where my progress shall end.

Mother of the year or not, you can't make me carve them.
In fact, you cannot even make me clean up the mess.
This is when being in a parenting partnership comes in handy.
This weekend, as I lounge on the couch reading a book,
I will let my husband be the mom.

and I am so OK with that.