Hang on to your witch hats, everyone, because we’re midway through October, and the Ditto party train is full speed ahead until spring.
I love fall, but with its advent is ushered in a relentless eight months straight of holidays and birthdays in our family with their accompanying decorations, gifts and expectations.
I feel weary just thinking about it. First, there’s Halloween, then two birthdays less than a week later. Thanksgiving rolls around with its do-gooding and overeating, and then we celebrate our anniversary, Christmas, New Year’s and a birthday all in the span of about two weeks.
From there, it’s a steady march of almost biweekly celebrations: Valentine’s Day, birthday, St. Patrick’s Day, birthday, Easter, birthday, birthday. By the time June rolls around, I am leaping with joy on the graves of holiday decorations past relishing the coming four months with relatively little to celebrate. That sounds bad; I promise, I’m not a horrible person.
I go all-out for Christmas: hand-stitched stockings, a 12-foot Christmas tree, wreaths, garlands, nativities and construction paper Santas collected throughout my kids’ 12 years and counting in the public school system. Christmas is a holiday I can really sink my teeth into, you know? But Valentine’s Day? St. Patrick’s Day? Bah humbug.
More specifically, though, I have disappointed my kids for years with my lack of effort in the Halloween decorating department. My style is more “tasteful autumn vignette” and less “murder house,” and they don’t seem to appreciate that at all. “This is it?” they’ll blandly ask when they come home to find I’ve put up our decorations for the holiday.
“What do you mean, ‘This is it’?” I’ll say defensively, gesturing grandly at the four or five doodads I’ve scattered throughout the room. “Look at the giant velveteen spider that appears to