Halloween calls to mind one memory of my mother. She's got her head bent over her sewing machine, a giant yellow swath of fabric sticking out one end that would become a Tweety Bird head for either my brother or I (we were dressed identically that year).
This image should have romanticized the homemade Halloween costume for me. I'm sorry, Mom, you totally rocked the Looney Tunes. But I'm never going to follow in your footsteps.
It will be store-bought costumes for my daughter for as long as she wants to trick or treat.
But, but, they're not individual, you say? They're crappy! They're expensive! They're not as awesome! And, to top it all of, you're not suffering the night before the holiday in order to give your sweet little snookums the best experience ever!
No, I'm not projecting my insecurities. That's what moms have said -- and more. And excuse my elitist behind (yup, another insult lobbed our way), but I'm still rocking the store-bought.
Because the "best experience ever" is subjective. She's got a costume she likes. She's got time to spend with friends. She's got sugar. Sounds pretty darn good to me.
And by Monday morning, I know full well the costume will be discarded in the laundry where I will have to decide whether it's worth attacking the chocolate and grass stains. It's foreseeing that crumpled mess that's ensured I will forever be shopping the sale rack for the costume anyway (so much for elitist and expensive, I love me some $9.99 deals).
If it's 24 hours of trying to keep my mom's sewing machine from jamming or handing the job over to some stranger in China, the next morning preview gives the edge to the Chinese guy every time. He won't be heartbroken when his handiwork gets tossed in the garbage without a second glance.
I, on the other hand, would have to get my time's worth out of that garment. What do you mean you can't wear it to school every day this week? The kids will laugh at you? Pshaw. It builds character, kid. And I didn't see you all Saturday night because I was locked in a sweat shop making this thing. I didn't get to laugh all night. You hear me? All night. And my fingers still hurt from that errant pin.
Not to mention the minute Halloween is over, she completely forgets about Tinkerbell, Tiana, My Little Pony, Zhu Zhu Pets, Littlest Pet Shop costumes and moves straight into wanting the toy versions. She could care less if she can wear them. She wants little plastic versions that she can leave underfoot.
Image via kevindooley/Flickr