Dress for Success - Again
I'm off to bingo today, so I'm giving you an encore performance (a rerun - lol)
COSTUME CRAZY
In addition to all of the colds, stuffy noses, sore throats and flu symptoms the Tribe of Tribulation has been though this year, I have endured a Major Mommy Meltdown from Wardrobe Malfunction.
No, not like the infamous halftime debacle, but from having to invent several costumes to conjure up the look of many far-away lands. Conjuring up made mommy a witch by last week’s end.
Daughter needed a new costume for every school day last week, as they were having international spirit week (which was not, as I quipped to an eye-rolling family, ghosts from foreign countries)..
The entire family chimed in with suggestions. We discarded those with the risk of serious bodily injury, such as Human Olympic Torch to celebrate Greece, or lopping her head off so she could portray Marie Antoinette of France.
They were off Monday for President’s Day, so I was spared constructing an Abe Lincoln beard, suit and top hat. Alternately, I avoided the George Washington powdered wig fashion statement. What a relief, I wasn’t looking forward to carving those wooden teeth.
Tuesday I had to dress her as a Greek. Various mythological figures were considered, but the armless Venus de Milo, while easily recognizable as representative of Greece, posed significant logistical problems, as the technology of removable arms on teenage girls has yet to be invented. Once we threw out the incendiary ideas, her Greek motif was relatively easy – white sheet toga and laurel leaf crown.
The next day was to celebrate our neighbors to the south. We nixed Giant Taco, on the off chance that some New-Year-Resolved soul who has been dieting for months now, and is hallucinating about food, would spy her and believe that at last, enormous edibles are actually walking in their direction.
We finally resolved the quesadilla quandary with a Mexican sombrero.
Thursday was Asian, and she really wanted a kimono. Ever tried to find a Kimono in Missouri? We have. And in Kansas, on the internet, at thrift shops, through the Yellow Pages, and begging for referrals at Oriental food markets and restaurants. I even called her Japanese teacher in desperation. She got a good laugh from the question. “Ha ha! You’re not gonna find a kimono anywhere around here!” She was still chuckling when we hung up. I’m sure it is an amusing anecdote she will share with her grandchildren someday.
I ended up sewing the kimono and the wide “obi” belt. It took all night.
Friday was “France.” It was the end of the week and Mommy Madness Costume Chaos was setting in.
What kinds of images come to mind for a costume when one thinks “France”? French maid? Nooooooo, we are NOT dressing my little girl up like THAT! Napoleon? She would have to walk around all day with her hand on her stomach to pull that one off…no, I don’t think so.
A giant Champagne bottle? No alcoholic references are allowed at school, Daughter firmly informs me, missing the increasingly insane glint in my eye, and that I was only making a bad joke. I was silently wishing for a giant bottle of bubbly by now. A French Fry was my next suggestion, which was met with much groaning and eye rolling.
Apache Dancer? This one elicited “the look” from Husband, who thankfully still leers at me after almost thirty years together. “It’s for your little girl,” I remind him, and the idea of Daughter-directed leers from the rest of the world was enough to nix that notion.
“Well, what are your friends going to do?” I implore, a tortured tinge in my tone.
“Oh! They got a bunch of Mardi Gras beads at the dollar store, they gave me some too…(much digging through backpack)…see? I’ll just wear these!”
Ah. Yes, I see. OK? Oh, of course I’m OK. No, just ignore that pile of pulled-out hair at my feet, dear, I’m saving it. We may have to make a gorilla suit someday.
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Thanks!
COSTUME CRAZY
In addition to all of the colds, stuffy noses, sore throats and flu symptoms the Tribe of Tribulation has been though this year, I have endured a Major Mommy Meltdown from Wardrobe Malfunction.
No, not like the infamous halftime debacle, but from having to invent several costumes to conjure up the look of many far-away lands. Conjuring up made mommy a witch by last week’s end.
Daughter needed a new costume for every school day last week, as they were having international spirit week (which was not, as I quipped to an eye-rolling family, ghosts from foreign countries)..
The entire family chimed in with suggestions. We discarded those with the risk of serious bodily injury, such as Human Olympic Torch to celebrate Greece, or lopping her head off so she could portray Marie Antoinette of France.
They were off Monday for President’s Day, so I was spared constructing an Abe Lincoln beard, suit and top hat. Alternately, I avoided the George Washington powdered wig fashion statement. What a relief, I wasn’t looking forward to carving those wooden teeth.
Tuesday I had to dress her as a Greek. Various mythological figures were considered, but the armless Venus de Milo, while easily recognizable as representative of Greece, posed significant logistical problems, as the technology of removable arms on teenage girls has yet to be invented. Once we threw out the incendiary ideas, her Greek motif was relatively easy – white sheet toga and laurel leaf crown.
The next day was to celebrate our neighbors to the south. We nixed Giant Taco, on the off chance that some New-Year-Resolved soul who has been dieting for months now, and is hallucinating about food, would spy her and believe that at last, enormous edibles are actually walking in their direction.
We finally resolved the quesadilla quandary with a Mexican sombrero.
Thursday was Asian, and she really wanted a kimono. Ever tried to find a Kimono in Missouri? We have. And in Kansas, on the internet, at thrift shops, through the Yellow Pages, and begging for referrals at Oriental food markets and restaurants. I even called her Japanese teacher in desperation. She got a good laugh from the question. “Ha ha! You’re not gonna find a kimono anywhere around here!” She was still chuckling when we hung up. I’m sure it is an amusing anecdote she will share with her grandchildren someday.
I ended up sewing the kimono and the wide “obi” belt. It took all night.
Friday was “France.” It was the end of the week and Mommy Madness Costume Chaos was setting in.
What kinds of images come to mind for a costume when one thinks “France”? French maid? Nooooooo, we are NOT dressing my little girl up like THAT! Napoleon? She would have to walk around all day with her hand on her stomach to pull that one off…no, I don’t think so.
A giant Champagne bottle? No alcoholic references are allowed at school, Daughter firmly informs me, missing the increasingly insane glint in my eye, and that I was only making a bad joke. I was silently wishing for a giant bottle of bubbly by now. A French Fry was my next suggestion, which was met with much groaning and eye rolling.
Apache Dancer? This one elicited “the look” from Husband, who thankfully still leers at me after almost thirty years together. “It’s for your little girl,” I remind him, and the idea of Daughter-directed leers from the rest of the world was enough to nix that notion.
“Well, what are your friends going to do?” I implore, a tortured tinge in my tone.
“Oh! They got a bunch of Mardi Gras beads at the dollar store, they gave me some too…(much digging through backpack)…see? I’ll just wear these!”
Ah. Yes, I see. OK? Oh, of course I’m OK. No, just ignore that pile of pulled-out hair at my feet, dear, I’m saving it. We may have to make a gorilla suit someday.
To leave a comment, please go here
Thanks!
