Enthusiasm is contagious. Be a carrier.
--Susan Rabin
It has been Mrs. Sharp’s experience that the observance of All Hallow’s Eve is a holiday that brings out either the angel in us, dear Reader, or the witch.
Bearing this in mind, let us speak frankly about this business of Halloween costumes. Whether we like it or not, this is the time we must start planning the children’s costumes or little Bosley will end up a ghost for the seventh year. While Halloween is the children’s own favorite holiday, it is the one that Mother fears most. Why? Because in her heart every woman dreads the annual occasion of having her maternal gifts (or she fears, her lack of them) so publicly displayed. We mothers have allowed costumes to become an emotional litmus test.
It takes one to know.
A true enough story: For Victorian families Halloween was not just a holiday, but an occasion. There were masquerade parades, harvest frolics, and All Hallows” pumpkin festivals and each event required elaborate costumes. For months before hand, women’s periodicals featured articles detailing the minutiae of various fancy dress for our young ones. To refresh your memory, the costumes a century ago were all handmade.
Mrs. Sharp admits she’s always been nimble with a thimble, but more important, she has been blessed with an abundance of common sense. Perhaps this is why her children were always happily outfitted for Halloween, usually in simple costumes of their own choosing.
Then one fateful autumn, Mr. Ebenezer Butterick’s “All New" 1899 arrived in the post. That year, a costume known as the “the Ant”—a black sateen confection with six legs--was all the rage.
Suddenly Mrs. Sharp’s heart started beating wildly at the thought of cleverly outdoing herself. Imagine! One small fabulous little ant. But Mrs. Sharp then had six young children. Imagine! Our own school of ants: six sibling insects all walking hand in hand in shiny splendor. The very thought sent shivers of excitement down her spine.
Needless to say, the ant costumes consumed Mrs. Sharp’s every waking moment, and many moments when she should have been asleep. At first, the children cheered. But then they cried and became increasingly cranky. The more they cried and became increasingly cranky. The more they fussed for Mother’s attentions, the more irritable she became. Certifiable was a word frequently muttered by her husband. Miraculously, the home circle survived intact.
Finally, the big day arrived and what a very handsome school of worker ants paraded out Mrs. Sharp’s front door on their way to win first prize at the Takoma Park All Hallows’ Eve masquerade contest. And the Sharp family would have brought home the blue ribbon had it not been for Mrs. Henry Hollister’s twins, Bertha and Buddy, disguised as a matched set of glad-bead-encrusted Etruscan vases.
Of course, the sight of those miserable children was a startling epiphany for Mrs. Sharp, who realized mothers create Halloween costumes for one another, not our children. Dear Reader, no child ever begged Mama to turn him into an Etruscan vase. So let us continue to remind ourselves vigilantly each October just whom the Halloween costumes are for, and all will be well.
Now, armed with a notebook, pen and measuring tape, gather the children over milk and cookies and invite them to con fide what they would like to be. Discuss with each child what particular items are absolutely crucial for their character’s costume, and then, leaving nothing to chance, especially Mother’s memory, write it down. It has been Mrs. Sharp’s experience that it is always the smallest detail—especially if it is missing—that causes the biggest fuss. Superman’s cape cannot be orange or Dorothy’s magic slippers blue. They are called the ruby slippers for a reason. Glitter is not optional.
And please do not fret about buying Halloween costumes. If little Boris says he wants a store-bought costume, being possessed of your reason, you will smile and say, “Wonderful” (if there is room in the budget). For years mothers on both side of the domestic divide have tortured themselves needlessly with ever increasing and exchangeable fantasies that all the little children of full-time hommakers will be wearing wonderful, handcrafted creations at the grammar school masquerade parade. Having attended more school Halloween assembles than you ever will—thank Heavens—have to, let Mrs. Sharp assure you, this is not the case. The children are not separated into two groups: store-bought and homemade.
Remember that any costume you help your child create—whether it’s from your sewing machine, purchased with loving forbearance or a combination of the two—will be treasured if you undertake this cherished custom with enthusiasm. The tradition worth preserving is not the homemade Halloween costume, but the special time you set aside to have fun planning costumes together.
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What an absolutely delightful post. My memory has been deliciously turned back to those days when my daughter, Katie, and my son, Richard, would beg me "the mother" not to answer the door in a costume. But I, a mother of some drama and hilarity, could not resist the night, the moon and any spell I might cast.
And, Sarah, I did not sew so you are so correct with mothers worriment over costumes. Indeed horror ripped down my All Hallows spine which creaked, groaned and shouted out, "OMG!" thinking of the kids next door dressed as characters from Dickens.
But my kids were inventive and free spirits and found stuff oftentimes in my own wardrobe (now, that's a scary image)and the ghosts and the devil be damned!
Posted by: Mary Jane Hurley Brant | October 18, 2011 at 04:47 PM
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Sarah Ban Breathnach
Posted by: Sarah Ban Breathnach | October 18, 2011 at 04:48 PM