I have always loved Halloween. Sure, it was great to be a kid, trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, collecting candy with my friends, and carefully selecting my costume each year. But it was even better when I was in my 20s. That’s when I found my Halloween groove. I picked the best costumes ever, and spent way more money than my pathetic fresh-out-of-college income could support. One year I spent 7 hours driving around town gathering the components of my fantastic costume. Of course, it goes without saying that killer Halloween parties were all part of the elaborate costume package.
One Halloween, probably the first year after I graduated from college, (2001? Seriously?) I was Wonder Woman. My roommates and I threw a huge bash, and my college pals drove out from Iowa and joined us.
After that, the bar had been set-high. Every year I came up with a new fantastic costume, always involving a wig. In fact, sometimes during the Halloween season, I went out wearing a wig just for the hell of it.
On Izzy’s first Halloween, I am dismayed to report that I didn’t wear a costume at all. She was the adorable requisite pea in a pea pod, but jeez, how the mighty had fallen. Mommy was an uncostumed loser.
The cat ears became my signature item, a $3 accessory that symbolized all of my lost coolness and served as my thread to the “other world,” in which I was a spunky, supercool 20-something filled with great Halloween spirit. I wore them when Izzy was 2…
When she was five, even though I was really a (sleep-deprived) zombie on Halloween, I stuck my newborn baby in the Moby wrap and slapped those damn cat ears on once more. I’m pretty sure I skipped the cool catlike eye makeup that year.
When Sophie was one year old, I decided to step out of the box and dress as a bumblebee, in order to match her darling bumblebee costume. My husband and I joked that we were the “breastfeeding bumblebees,” when we stopped repeatedly for Sophie to get her boobie trick-or-treat on.
This year, who knows? My daughter, her friend, and I went to a Halloween belly dancing performance last weekend, and the girls decided to wear their costumes. Suddenly inspired, I decided to see if I could still fit into my Morticia costume. Sure, I was curvier than I was when last I wore it, nearly a decade ago, (sob) but I could still squeeze it on. My daughter took one look at me, and her horror-stricken expression told me that I had officially become embarrassing. Great. I put on a witchy skirt, extra eye makeup, some knee high leopard print stockings, my black boots, my owl shirt and earrings, and felt as if I had officially recaptured some of my lost spirit. My heart was actually pounding with excitement!
Perhaps it is a pathetic attempt to cling to my youth, but for whatever reason, wearing at least one festive accessory and/or extra makeup while I escort my children on their trick-or-treating adventure makes me happy. Even if it doesn’t hold a candle to the costumes of decades past.
Speaking of Mommy’s costumes, one of the scariest recurring roles I’ve played in the last few years is that of Mean Mommy. Hey, it just so happens that I have a post up at Mamalode today with that very title! Did you like my
shameless plug seamless segueway? If you think Mean Mommy is a scary lady, you don’t want to risk encountering her alter ego, Desperate Neurotic Writer…I’d be so thrilled if you’d stop by and check it out, and if you know any other maternal meanies, please share!
Here’s a little excerpt for you… The phrase, “I am not a morning person,” took on new meaning when I became a mother. Mornings seem to be the time of day when my maternal ineptitude manifests in all its frenetic glory, frequently highlighted by misplaced items, sibling squabbles, poor personal hygiene efforts, and undeniable tardiness. Worse yet- sometimes they turn me into Mean Mommy… you can read the full post here!
This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post.
This week’s sentence was: “One Halloween, I….”
No FTSF next week for Halloween night!
The November 8th sentence is: “When I was a kid, I thought…”
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