Yes I realize this is a blog post about a holiday that is almost a week in the past but after recovering from that brutal election and a stomach virus I aptly named “The Ron Johnson Flu.” this post is late. So deal.

As the holidays are right around the corner I realized this is my first holiday season being diabetic. I briefly thought about it the days before Halloween but didn’t give it much thought. I no longer crave sugar and even had candy sitting out for Matt and Ben which didn’t tempt me at all.

Therefore Halloween and all that beautiful, heavenly little chocolate would be no big deal.

I have always loved Halloween. And with that have ALWAYS loved Halloween candy. So much so that I often (read: every year) gave myself a free pass on 10/31 to indulge in a piece or 30.

The year I was pregnant with Ben I ate so much candy I got sick. Another year I was on Weight Watchers and doing so well up until that last day in October where I ate my weight in candy bars. I was a machine.  Eating one while I opened another.  Again, sick.

Even last year when we were in Washington DC we loaded up on candy so poor Ben wouldn’t feel deprived. My teeth hurt from all those Milk Duds. I was just being a good mother.

So this year when I told my parents, who would be out of town, that I would happily man their house while Matt took Ben and his friend Trick or Treating, I was excited. Handing out candy to all those cute trick or treaters is so fun.

Fun when it was “One for them, one for me…”.

This year was another story.

I have never noticed the intoxicating smell that is emitted when you open up a bag of candy. Let alone SEVEN bags. I was high off the fumes as I poured Snickers and Reese’s and holy mother of God mini M&M’s into the bowl. My nostrils flared, my mouth watered as I put the bowl down, with a little too much force, and power walked out of the entry way.

I was all alone with my salad from Trader Joe’s. For a treat I got myself multi grain chips with peach salsa.  Who needs Reese’s when you have multi-grain chips? And salsa!

But all I could think about was the candy.

“Remember us! We love you. We MISS YOU! One piece won’t hurt. Just one. Please?”

Even watching the circus show that is Sister Wives wasn’t working for me. Who cares about polygamy when CANDY is so close by and no one is around to bust me.

As the temptation grew I started to panic. I couldn’t do this. Why was I having cravings after seven months of NO CANDY!?

Yes, diabetics can eat candy.  Many do.  But I knew that if I had just one piece, that would be the end. The end of it all. It wouldn’t be just one. It would be SEVERAL which would spark days, maybe months of bad eating.

I know myself too well and refused to undo all the hard work I have done for just one spooky night.

So instead I took one of my dad’s beers and texted Matt, “Slightly dying here. Are you guys close? Wanna trade jobs?”

The beer (nothing is more gross than beer and candy. Oh yeah, I’ve done that too…) and Matt and the boys showing up saved me.

And I’m happy to say I’m still candy/refined sugar-free. But holy ghost that was close.

Note to self, over Christmas never be alone with a cookie.