Monday, October 12, 2009
So--sort of at the last minute--I decided to have our semi-annual Halloween party. I call it "semi-annual," which is a phrase somewhat open to interpretation. In this instance it means "when I feel like it," or "when my house isn't under construction." Last year our driveway was under construction. The year before, the kitchen was ripped apart.
(You know, with all these renovations, you'd think my house would be a fabulous showpiece, right? But you would be wrong. See above.)
But people can get very enthusiastic about the littlest things. Like my "when my house isn't under construction" Halloween Party. I started to feel a certain amount of pressure to have it again. (Although it beats me why I should care about what a bunch of 7-to-12 year olds say.)
The thing is, I haven't thrown this party in three years. And my kids have grown up in the past three years.
I'm still into an old-skool Louisa May Alcott-era celebration. OK, I draw the line at bobbing for apples, but I like to keep things wholesome. I prefer witches, pumpkins, and black cats as decorations. No rotting zombies, Frankensteins, vampires, or giant spiders. No fog machines and no decorations that make scary noises. And no creepy party food. No Jello-O brains. No Vienna Franks disguised as severed fingers. Not even that thing where you make parmesan chicken wings and call them bat wings.
Just some costumes, a buffet loaded with chili and pulled pork. Lots of desserts. Flowers, balloons, and goodie bags for the wee tots.
Oh, and lots of drinking. Of course.
But while I wasn't looking, my kids have grown up. My daughter wants me to turn the front yard into a grave yard. She wants hideous spiders all over the house. Plus they've both gone all Goth anime on me. They want to look like this
Let me tell you, the fussing over costumes is going to kill me. And it's going to use up all the money I was planning to spend on candy corn.
And booze, my friends. And booze.