Halloween Hater

I don't consider myself a scaredy-cat.  Very few things freak me out.  I'm not one of those people who watches a scary movie and takes it to heart.  (The first thing I did after watching Candyman was say "Helen...Helen...Helen" three times in a mirror just to see if it worked.)  I live in Nebraska.  I've played "Manhunt" in haystacks in the middle of the night.  I've taken unsuspecting city friends cow-tipping at three in the morning.  It's impossible to be scared of the dark in a place where street lamps are few and far between.

So you would think I would be okay with Halloween, right?  I'm not a fan.

There are two things that freak me out: kids and clowns.

I know.  I've heard it before: "You're a teacher.  You're a mother.  How can kids freak you out?"  I love my own children.  They don't scare me.  And over the summer, AJ's friend Carter has helped me get over my fear of other people's kids.  (Yet Lindsay knows I'm not the one to call unless she's in dire need of a babysitter.  I love Carter, but I feel much more comfortable with Lindsay near by in case he has a runny nose or a dirty diaper or a melt down.)  As for being a teacher, I'm a high school teacher.  I like kids once they reach the teenage years.  Nothing scares me more than being caught in the elementary bathroom after recess when it's bombarded by elementary girls.  Many are brutally honest: "Did you know your hair is sticking up all weird?"  Frankly, I'd rather have students talk about me behind my back.  It's better for my self-esteem.  But once these kids enter seventh grade, I love them.

And then there are clowns.  I'm not so much scared by clowns themselves.  I'm scared by the idea that adults--mainly men--think it's okay to dress up like complete idiots and try to entertain children.  There's something quite pedophile-ish about it.

(For any of you who may think it would be hilarious to dress up as a clown and peek inside my window to scare me, be forewarned.  I'm a card-carrying member of the NRA.  When I get scared, I shoot.)

So why do I hate Halloween?  I'm afraid that a kid dressed as a clown will show up at my door and freak me out.  I'm afraid that my husband won't be home to protect me from the clown.  I'm afraid that all the girls in the elementary bathroom will laugh at me after word spreads around school that a six-year-old in a clown suit made me pee my pants.

I will admit that I did actually enjoy Halloween this year.  AJ was a monkey.  A cute, cuddly, friendly monkey.  Bo was a banana.  I loved watching AJ trick-or-treat.  (I did not, however, appreciate the sugar high at ten o'clock Halloween night.)  He begged us to stop at every house that had a porch light on.

With AJ's help, I was able to conquer Step One of the "I Hate Halloween" intervention program.  Who knows?  Maybe some day I'll even be okay if AJ decides he wants to dress up as a clown.