All Things Considered...

I'm not sure if I mentioned here that I was the designated chaperon for the little ones this year, that for some bizarre reason I actually volunteered for the driving/ escorting/ supervising (and disciplining if necessary) of my monstrous young nieces and nephews as they tricked and treated their way across town, silly overconfident aunt that I am. Not to mention my own little monster- well, he was costumed as a bat, actually, and an adorable wee bat he was, to be sure- which, although too young to understand the whole to-do, or eat candy, I still was obliged to dress him up and lug him around for the candy-hander-outers to ooh and ahh over.
All in all, there were six of us, the children ranging in age from eleven to seven months, and we made quite the little troupe as we traipsed from neighborhood to neighborhood, candy buckets shaped like jack o'lanterns in hand.
I knew I was, if not in over my head, at the very least swimming in deep waters when I began dismantling costume parts in order to buckle in the youngest into their four carseats. It was a cacophony of "are we there yet" and "Skyler poked me with his light saber!" while I drove to the first upscale cul-de-sac, and a relief to all once we parked, unpacked, and reassembled ourselves at the curb in time for sunset.
The ground rules were set, the littlest were instructed to hold hands with the biggest, and off we went.
* * * *
Three hours later, the buckets were overflowing, the noses were running and bright pink with the cold, and the two youngest were crashed out in the backseat. I caught myself fervently wishing for a nap as well, but quashed the thought and made sure everyone was happy with their haul before buckling them all in for the last time and heading to Grandma and Grandpa's for pizza and a treasure hunt.
That was a blast, and we all stuffed ourselves with Papa Murphy's Cowboy pizza, laughed at the old folks (dressed like pirates), and searched for our goodies with the provided clues. No one was excluded, not even the grown-ups. Or the baby, for that matter- the other kids were happy to "help" find and unwrap his gifts, too.

I wound up sitting alone at one point in the evening, reflecting on how good it felt to be a part of this family, even when it entailed some hard work at making everyone happy. Thinking, "I wouldn't trade this for the world," then realizing, wait a minute, the whole time I was shunning these very same events for my massively selfish drug habit, and ignoring the very people who cared about me the most, that's exactly what I was doing- I had traded them in. For what, now I don't know. An ephemeral sense of well-being? a temporary high? the swollen ego of a drug dealer?
Ha. All that pales in comparison to a room full of laughing people you love, your belly full of good food and your heart full of promise, looking forward to tomorrow.