Trick or Treat!

This weekend, our little bug turned into a little bee for Halloween and buzzed all over the neighborhood in search of sweet things.

The night before, we had gone to Darling Hubby's hometown to trick-or-treat in his neighborhood. We started doing that when she was born because it is small, hometown America personified. It seemed safer, more friendly. It made my heart a little puffy, too, watching Daddy and Miss Julia knocking on the same doors 30-couple-a-few years apart, especially when the age-blessed ladies would coo and ahh over the both of them. We made a weekend tradition out of it, carving pumpkins for Pappy's porch and picking up apples at the farm stand.

We also started another tradition for her first Halloween. We now Trick or Treat for Troops. I know (now!) that there are several organizations out there that apparently do this, but I honestly hadn't known that when we started. Hopefully, I'm not violating any copyrights by talking about it...maybe if I lose the Upper Case it's less official looking. When we started doing this, it was simple: She was only 8 months old, looking adorable as a fairy princess, and didn't eat much beyond Puffs and smashed bananas but I still wanted to show her off. (Can you honestly blame me?)

I didn't celebrate Halloween much in between trick or treating and being a mom. Not big on my to-decorate for list. I was one of those "Celebrate Autumn" people, focusing more on Thanksgiving and CHRISTmas coming. I went through the holiday hoping that my car didn't get egged (or soaped or worse) and reveling in the 70% off SweeTarts a few days after it was over.

Then I became a MOM.

And now we are all about pumpkins and costumes and plates with witches and ghosts and bats. We made cookies with tombstone and black cat cutters, purple and black icing, orange and yellow non-parieles bouncing across my kitchen floor with as much joy as I was having with her. (I know...I couldn't believe it either!)

I bought a witch "scarecrow" and three little hologram happy ghosts. We made pumpkin magnets, construction paper pumpkins and carved a Blue's Clue pumpkin (a repeat, but it was her request).

But I digress...

The real Halloween fun for me happens when we go trick-or-treating. I honestly can't remember who we sent the first candy to. I wish I could. It was someone my brother told me about who was deployed. It wasn't much, but we felt so good sending her candy to someone that I actually found myself looking forward to the following year. Last year, we again sent her candy, but she was older and cuter and we came back to Pappy's house with a bounty. We told people what we were doing with her candy last year and a few people walked over to Pap's and gave us their extras. HOW TOUCHING. Especially since I knew where her candy was going this time...all the way to Afghanistan...to her uncle, my baby brother.

We had another name of a soldier in the Army that we sent a box to; his aunt works with DH and asked us to send a box to him as well. We bought some extra candy and had a huge box of popcorn donated by DH's boss. Someone over there sent a bag of candy home, too.

One thing I think I will always remember about this year was this: while we were packing the boxes, there was breaking news about the shooting at Fort Hood in Texas where 12 people were killed and 31 people were injured at the hands of, horrifically, another soldier. I remember packing this and thinking, "How could this happen?"

We sent a little over 34 POUNDS of candy last year.

This year, we have two names. I was torn, however, seeing how excited she was to trick-or-treat and get candy. Somewhere inside, I decided we would just go buy some candy and mail that, putting in the things she couldn't eat from her stash. Saturday morning, she woke up sick. After not quite an hour of trick-or-treating, she informed us "I got enough candy from people, I want to go home." One of Pappy's neighbors, a retired Airman himself, had a bag of "extras" made up for us to send; his wife said he was hoping we did it again. That melted my heart.

Sunday, Miss Julia was still sick and we contemplated not going at all. However, after a nap, she was dressing herself to go get more candy. This time, I told DH that I was going to take an extra bag and ask people for an extra for the troops. I was nervous - you never know what people will say anymore! We had never gone trick-or-treating here in the burgh, either. We attached ourselves to our neighbors and Miss Julia's friends and started out. I walked up to the door with all the kids and said, "We're also trick-or-treating for the troops...if you have an extra, I'd appreciate it."

I WAS BLOWN AWAY BY THE RESPONSE.

See, I've always felt more at home in the country, the small town. People there always seem so much nicer, more willing to help. They also seem to support our troops more (my personal opinion is that so many of our servicemen and women come from small-town America...it may just seem that way because I grew up there, though). I was expecting to be chastised, ignored, told "no." A lot.

I WAS WRONG.

We had to stop collecting for them halfway through. The bag was FULL. Only ONE HOUSE said no. Most people gave two or three. Some people said, "If it's for a soldier, take a peanut butter cup, not a lollipop." One man went back in and got a whole package for us, unopened. He stuck his chin up and I swear his eyes got a little watery. On the way back, I noticed his veteran bumper sticker.

It really taught me something. Sort of like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, looking for something somewhere over the rainbow that was right here all the time. I'm reaching a little, I know. But I keep saying, "We gotta get to the country, I want her to have values and morals and a safe, happy childhood." I'm assuming that people here don't care. I was certain I would come home with two or three tootsie rolls and a spirit that was deflated.

I came home with pride that so many people support our troops...and an opportunity to tell those protecting us that it really is true. The kind words they expressed while handing me a M&Ms mean more than the sugar. And while I'm thrilled to send a box of candy to the big sandbox overseas, what I want them most to know is that we are grateful for them, thankful that someone sacrifices to protect our freedoms, our liberties, our lives. We love them and support them, even not knowing them, because that is what they offer to us.