This article, entitled "Post-Halloween Pain Prevention," comes from Annie Payne, MomsEveryday blogger from Western Colorado.
To say that I love Halloween would be an understatement. It doesn’t matter whether I dress up as Geico Flo or Zombie Mom. If I could breathe Halloween, I would. If I could bathe in Halloween, I would. If I could legally change my name to “Halloween,” I would. But who would read a blog written by someone named “Halloween Payne?” Muwahahaha!
I remember a night, sometime during the 80s, when I suffered Halloween pain. Dressed in my mom’s pink chiffon robe with marabou feather trim and a tin foil crown, I took to the streets with a blue floral pillowcase in hand to trick o’ treat.
Usually, the kids on our street just made a loop around the neighborhood, but this year we convinced our folks to drive us to other neighborhoods to score the mother lode! And, boy, did we ever!
By ten o’clock the following morning, still dressed in my mom’s robe and dilapidated crown, with a half of a masticated Tootsie Roll in my mouth and the other half in my hair, surrounded by empty candy wrappers, I reached down into the bottom of my once heavy-laden pillowcase to find it completely empty.
In twelve short hours, I had eaten my weight in candy.
What happened after the sugar rush had worn off and the gastrointestinal difficulties began isn’t something I would wish on my worst enemy, let alone my own children.
In order to spare the Payne kids, each year we enact a three-fold plan; it’s all about prevention, intervention and moderation. I’ve written about it before, but it’s worth repeating, especially if I could save just one child from the same painful, shame-filled fate I experienced in the 80s. It’s called,
“The Payne Family Fool-Proof Anti-Gastrointestinal Stressitude Halloween Plan”
The prevention part of my plan consists of a pre-trick o’ treating dinner. I make sure my kids have their stomachs full of “real food,” before their big night of haunting.
It’s a Payne family Halloween tradition that our pre-trick o’ treating dinner consist of a “mystery menu.” If we are having spaghetti, I’ll change the name to “Worms with Gut Sauce.” Or if chili is on the menu, I’ll change the name to “Ground Goblin Brains with Beans.”
Adding food coloring is another easy, but fun way we add some creepiness to our Halloween dinner. For instance, “Black as a Bat Meat Loaf” or “Purple People Eater Chicken Pot Pie.”
With their stomachs full of a spooky, but square meal, a few pieces of candy before bed shouldn’t be a big deal.
All the collected candy goes in a communal bowl. Then (and this is the best part of my plan), Secret Agent Man and I go through the bowl to pick out any candy that may be “tainted,” i.e.: Snickers or Peanut M &M’s. They can keep the Three Musketeers, in my opinion.
This whittles the cache down quite a bit. If you try my plan at home, what you do with the “tainted” candy is up to you (wink).
We keep our communal candy bowl in a secure area (like Secret Agent Man’s desk drawer) where I, as the “Candy Cop” dole out a few pieces of candy at a time over the next few weeks.
Last year, our communal candy bowl lasted until the day before Christmas. All the “good stuff” was gone the first week. By December we almost had to force ourselves to finish off the Bit O’ Honeys, Necco Wafers, and Boston Baked Beans. Who passes that stuff out anyway?
Thankfully over the years I’ve learned to celebrate Halloween more responsibly. I need to set an example for my children, after all. I can keep the Zombie Mom or the Geico Flo costume, but, if you see me in line at the DMV, do me a favor; ask me to step aside, save me from changing my name to Mrs. Halloween Payne.