Today, I’m going to talk about the biggest thing I sacrificed for my kid. The thing I cared about the most before he was born (oops, I mean second-most, after my husband, of course- Hi, honey!). That would be Halloween. I am crazy for Halloween. I start planning costumes in July. I would get up three hours early to apply prosthetic makeup to wear to work. One year, my (future) husband and I drove around to two parties and three bars just so we could enter five separate costume contests (we only won two, which is bullshit).
Since my son was born, I barely even try to throw together my own costume anymore. He gets about 65% of my effort, my husband gets 30%, and there’s 5% left for me. If I’m feeling really saucy, I’ll wash my hair. The last decent costume I did was when I was five months pregnant (I even half-assed the hair then). That was the beginning.
The boy’s first Halloween, he was the White Rabbit, my husband was the Mad Hatter, and I was Alice. I spent months tracking down vintage pants for my husband and a friggin’ pocket watch for an infant, then half-assed my own dress so bad, I ended up changing into a nightgown a couple hours into the party.
The next year, the boy was Kevin Flynn from TRON, and I didn’t even have a costume. Yes, he really lit up. Yes, he knew what he was, but he has yet to see the movie. I spent all of October entering him in online costume contests sponsored by parenting magazines (stupid popularity contests).
His third year, he was Scott Howard from Teen Wolf. He was ridiculously adorable and I basked in the attention he got from other parents. This was the first year he went real trick-or-treating (not just driving around to the grandparents houses), and some houses even insisted on giving my husband and me our own candy just for the effort.
My husband’s costume last year (Han Solo frozen in carbonite) took about 17,000 hours of work, so that left very little time or inspiration for me. Anyway, I threw together a quick zombie makeup for myself. Zombies are my specialty, and I can do it in my sleep at this point.
|My progress so far|
This year, my husband has put his foot down and insisted that I let the boy choose his own costume, rather than base it off of some 80’s movie he’s never seen. I was very nervous, as he started throwing around ideas like “ghost” and “mummy” early on, but he is my son, and he did not disappoint. He has chosen to be Anubis, the jackal-headed Egyptian god of death and mummification. Not that he knows what death is, or that a mummy is actually a dried-out human. Shhh, don’t tell him.
So now I have to manufacture a headpiece, mask, collar and skirt-thing. My awesome neighbor made his staff us (I think my lack of handiness was just too frustrating for him to bear, so when I asked for advice on bending a curtain rod, he just said “screw it” and did it himself). This is also the first year we’ve had a real yard (see my sad little patch of land last year for reference), so of course I need to make it into a graveyard, complete with strobe lights, fog machines, and [mumble] dollars worth of animatronic zombies.
Those two projects have sucked all the creativity out of me, so guess what my husband and I are doing. Zombie Alice and Zombie Mad Hatter. I even bought a pre-fab dress for myself, which is a big cop-out. I’m going to try to throw together some prosthetics for us, but I’ll probably flake on that. At least the boy will look good.