“You can do it,” I say into the mirror every morning in October.

 

Halloween is when my cravings boil over. The same episode happens every year.

 

I muster up all of my willpower and my courage as I watch my two children pour out their Halloween bounty onto the carpet in the living room. My daughter likes to organize her candy by color; my son prefers to arrange by brand.

 

“I hate candy. I hate candy. I hate candy,” I repeat in my head.

 

I try to isolate myself in the kitchen, but the crinkling sound of candy wrappers taunts me to no end. I run into the bathroom (“you can do it,” I say once more) and I grab a magazine. Eventually I’ll toss the magazine aside when the candy advertisements get on my nerves. I leave the bathroom and run down the hall to my bedroom. I pick up the phone and I call my friend, Alley.

 

“I’m in the kitchen right now,” Alley says. “I can hear the wrappers.”

 

Luckily, I have friends like Alley. Every year, my small group and I get together and we set group goals.

 

In our mid-twenties, we realized that going through motherhood (let alone life) was going to be one heck of an uphill trek. We banded together and formed a pact. We would support one another for the rest of our days.

 

“You still there?” Alley asked.

 

“Yeah, I’m here.”

 

“Hey, this is nothing,” she said. “We can do it.”

 

And we would have the same conversation next year.