Halloween is one of those “holidays” that leaves me feeling a little – OK, a LOT – unsure of myself. On the one hand, it is all in good fun. On the other hand, I’m more than a little creeped out as I walk around with my very young children and see ghouls and coffins and, well, scary things being made light of. I had a fascination with horror in my youth, yes. But I don’t anymore.
I can’t seem to forget that the “reason for the season” is All Saints Day. Even as I type that, though, I would be fooling you if I don’t admit, up front, that I just don’t have it in my (yet) to pull together something in my community. Those of you with co-ops or parishes that have All Saints Day parties have more than a little of my envy.
On the other hand, I like pumpkins and I have a deep-seated love of this time of year. I hate that after Halloween all of the pumpkins will be taken down, for the most part. The dressing up, the getting candy, the socializing…it’s all in good fun. Right? (Well, it’s supposed to be, right?)
And if you’re rolling your eyes at me now, just wait until we get closer to Christmas. Oh yeah, talk about torn! Talk about wanting to just fly away and not have to deal with the craziness!
I grew up with a family suicide being a big part of what Halloween was about. It doesn’t haunt me or anything; we just didn’t ever go nutso about Halloween when I was little. Add to that living in the country (hence no trick-or-treaters) for my first 16 years, and maybe I am just not used to Halloween. We’ll see. I’m still mulling.
This was the first year I’ve had to “do” Halloween. Last year, Prince Charming took Miss Muffet while I dealt with that brand-new babe. She refused to leave the house, and though she came home with a lot of candy (thanks to a certain aunt), it was easy. The year before that, she was too little to know the difference (only two years ago?).
Lucky for me, trick-or-treating was last night, and I got off pretty easily. (Translated: Miss Muffet believed me when I told her a full bucket was her fair share of the candy and then helped pass out what was left with Cousin Nell.)
I’ve been reading Charlotte Mason a lot lately. In fact, I’m working through her six-volume set. For those of you who know what that means, yes, we are still considering homeschooling. I feel called, and that’s a difficult thing. I’ve been really struggling with God over that call, and what it means, and where we’re going, and what he has planned.
So, that said, I have no idea if we’ll be homeschooling. The oldest is three. I’ve been battling this since she was conceived, when I was accidentally exposed to homeschooling as something other than something only nut-job weirdos did. I am reminding myself that it’s not life or death.
Babby came home yesterday, from preschool, with more candy than she got when we went out last night. To put that in full context, the school gave us this article about how, basically, candy and red dye and petroleum-based dyes are this awful onslaught against our children, blah blah blah, and then they send her home with about 20 pounds of said awful onslaught. The irony is hilarious…and a little maddening.
We might go to the horse farm tomorrow. I’m so excited I might pee my pants. We went to the park today (out of a need, not by me, surprisingly!) to go somewhere, and when I stepped outside, I couldn’t believe the mild day and the beautiful sun and the fact that, of course, I forgot my camera.