This weekend turned out to be as productive as Jude Law in the newspaper movie listings. The kids and Patrick and I banged through the mountains of laundry, zipped through cleaning the house, grocery shopping, two rounds of hideous math homework, and completed all our orders. Thank God there are two of us, I don’t know how single moms do it all on their own!
Anyway, in between scrubbing the shower and assembling two dozen domino necklaces today, I took Maya to buy her Halloween costume. It’s a painful process. Every year I’ve pitched a handmade costume idea. I swear to her I would devote many hours on the sewing machine and in the art room just for her. And every year my vision gets veto-ed. She’s a kid in sixth grade, she wants to go the store bought route and be normal.
When I was a kid my mom made my costumes by hand. She bought all the stuff on October 30th, right after dinner, and then she stayed up into the wee hours of the morning sewing it all together iwth the machine and by hand (and to think glue guns didn’t even exist back then). She finished the final embellishments the next morning just in time for the school parade. I used to think she had magical little elves that came and helped her out because no matter what, every stitch was perfectly in place. I’ll have to ask her for pictures so I can show you. It was quite impressive. To me, that was pure love, ya know?
But now, my own offspring yearns for flimsy overpriced polyester. Whatever. I’m fine with it.
So we’re at Halloween Superstore this afternoon, combing the aisles for the perfect costume for a picky 11-year-old. I bit my lip as Maya thumbed through the racks of the many tacky-themed cheap-o ensembles. I politely explained that the contents inside the clear vinyl bag would not look anything like the sexy model chick on the display picture. She didn’t even respond because she was so excitedly overwhelmed at the possibilities.
She finally found a punk rock girl with simulated silver stud accessories for $39.99 and got all giddy. I bit my lip so hard I flinched from the pain. We opened the package and the outfit was gawd-awful. Of course, she thought it was cool. All I could think of was how I could dress her up as a authentic riot grrl with my threads that I had worn during my J.F.A. days back in the ’80s that I now had sealed in air tight plastic bags, just waiting for a special night of glory. I told her about them and she looked at me like I was a nerdy violin teacher trying to bust a move at the school dance.
Finally – a beam of light. Maya was looking at the make-up accessories and screamed when she saw a package of super-sized red glitter false eyelashes. Then she found the lip stick and hair gel to match.
“Mommy, can you build me an outfit around these eyelashes?”
That’s my girl! “Of course I can, we have all the stuff at home and you’ll look way better than any of the costumes here!” We picked up some other goodies and headed out for home.
DeAngelo wasn’t as easy. He wants to go as the Lucha Libre “Ultimo Dragon” wrestler so now we have to go find him a mask that laces up in the back and has golden wings sprouting out from the eye holes. I have a gorgeous purple Lucha Libre mask that I found at the flea market, but DeAngelo is turned off by the glittery fabric.
“Real men can pull off wearing glitter!” I told him. “Just look at Daddy, he always has glitter on his face all the time!”
“That’s because he kisses you and you always have glitter on your face and you’re a girl…”, he said.
So tomorrow we are off to Mexican import stores to look for the perfect non-glittery Mexican wrestler mask, just like the ones above.
peace, respect & glitter.
See the new line of Crafty Chica products at select Michaels stores!! All content/photos copyright, © Kathy Cano-Murillo, 2008.