Childhood Halloweens were sweet – getting dressed up, gorging on candy.
But my fondest Halloween involved not Dots and Hershey’s, but a tiny, reddish-haired troll. I tucked it into my jewelry box, below a velvety trap door in the bottom. Even today, I would be heart-broken if the troll went missing.
My mother truly made Halloween fun with her crafty creativity. One year she scoured neighborhood stores for just the right child-sized brooms and pointy little black hats. I was about 9 when she outfitted my younger sisters and me as little witches. As we moved into adolescence, I’m afraid she got more than she bargained for.
She was great at coming up with simple, last-minute costumes for her girls. Several years, she cut two eyes out a pillowcase. Classic ghost.
A few times I dressed as a hobo, easy if you have a bandana, mismatched clothes and old shoes. No problem there.
My sister got to go as Raggedy Ann. Years later, I borrowed the idea for my own daughter, using a (new) orange dust mop for the hair. She was extremely cute.
As my children were growing up, Halloween costumes were as easy or as difficult as I cared to make them. The easiest was when my son toddled along as an Indian in a fringed, decorated paper-sack costume. In later years, he went as a pirate (curly, drawn-on mustache) and a puppy (gray sweats with black felt spots sewn on).
Then, around age 7, he became too cool for costumes and just went for the grub.
My daughter’s Halloween costuming phase lasted into middle school. I remember many an Oct. 30 gazing in horror at whatever pattern she and I had picked out. It was always impossibly complicated. Sometimes there were way too many ruffles. One time I was supposed to miraculously applique a black cat onto a poodle skirt using only sequins, needle and thread.
The worst was when I foolishly selected lame', a fragile, shiny-metallic fabric that shredded as quickly as I could sew a seam. I must have been using the wrong sewing machine needle. It’s a well-known fact that my sewing machine has a love-hate relationship with me. For the past few years, the lever has been stuck on H instead of L.
So, while I’m relieved the costume-making phase has passed, I’d still spend all those late nights sewing fairy costumes for my daughter.
Every mother wants her daughter to feel like a princess, at least one day a year. Growing up is hard enough the other 364.
This column was originally published on 10/23/05 in The Facts newspaper, Clute, Texas. Copyright The Facts.
But my fondest Halloween involved not Dots and Hershey’s, but a tiny, reddish-haired troll. I tucked it into my jewelry box, below a velvety trap door in the bottom. Even today, I would be heart-broken if the troll went missing.
My mother truly made Halloween fun with her crafty creativity. One year she scoured neighborhood stores for just the right child-sized brooms and pointy little black hats. I was about 9 when she outfitted my younger sisters and me as little witches. As we moved into adolescence, I’m afraid she got more than she bargained for.
She was great at coming up with simple, last-minute costumes for her girls. Several years, she cut two eyes out a pillowcase. Classic ghost.
A few times I dressed as a hobo, easy if you have a bandana, mismatched clothes and old shoes. No problem there.
My sister got to go as Raggedy Ann. Years later, I borrowed the idea for my own daughter, using a (new) orange dust mop for the hair. She was extremely cute.
As my children were growing up, Halloween costumes were as easy or as difficult as I cared to make them. The easiest was when my son toddled along as an Indian in a fringed, decorated paper-sack costume. In later years, he went as a pirate (curly, drawn-on mustache) and a puppy (gray sweats with black felt spots sewn on).
Then, around age 7, he became too cool for costumes and just went for the grub.
My daughter’s Halloween costuming phase lasted into middle school. I remember many an Oct. 30 gazing in horror at whatever pattern she and I had picked out. It was always impossibly complicated. Sometimes there were way too many ruffles. One time I was supposed to miraculously applique a black cat onto a poodle skirt using only sequins, needle and thread.
The worst was when I foolishly selected lame', a fragile, shiny-metallic fabric that shredded as quickly as I could sew a seam. I must have been using the wrong sewing machine needle. It’s a well-known fact that my sewing machine has a love-hate relationship with me. For the past few years, the lever has been stuck on H instead of L.
So, while I’m relieved the costume-making phase has passed, I’d still spend all those late nights sewing fairy costumes for my daughter.
Every mother wants her daughter to feel like a princess, at least one day a year. Growing up is hard enough the other 364.
This column was originally published on 10/23/05 in The Facts newspaper, Clute, Texas. Copyright The Facts.
The paper sack reminded me of an apple tree costume a friend and I made for my son's first Halloween. Don'y ask. We made a costume change to a bunny rabbit later that night. He was confused about the whole costume thing but thrilled with getting candy just by walking up to a house looking adorable.
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