It took me till the end of August to finally declare to myself that I didn’t need to make the Hallowe’en costumes this year. What did I have to prove? I wasn’t saving any money by making the costumes, and I didn’t need to wear myself out. This was going to be the year of finding balance.
It became my mantra, it needed to be, because all through September I kept thinking, “well, maybe I could…” It’s a sickness that I’ve got, taking on too much. So I had to keep reminding myself that I am not making the costumes this year.
(My nephew’s quidditch robe was a birthday present, so it is exempt from this discussion. Whether or not he wears it for Hallowe’en is a moot point.)
Finally last night I picked up a skeleton costume for Red. It’s cheap, made entirely of polyester, and has the bones printed only on the front side, the back side is just black. It’s the kind of thing that makes me feel slightly asthmatic to touch it. As long as it doesn’t get a rip or a snag it will likely fit him for the next three years, which means it’ll probably look pretty funny on him this year. (We haven’t tried it on yet — part of me thinks I’m going to return it.) In short, it’s pretty much everything I’ve tried to avoid all these years.
I was showing it to Paul last night, pointing out its flaws to purge them from my mind, to air my grievances and remorse so I could get on with accepting the costume for what it is: premade. I was surprised to hear Paul whistfully tell me that while he completely understands why I’m buying the costumes this year, he’s a little bit sad that I’m not making them. These store-bought costumes just aren’t the same.
What the what?!?
All this time I thought my project-making drove him crazy. I secretly hoped that somewhere in the recesses of his soul he was proud of my handiwork and I was RIGHT!!!
So does this mean I can return that costume to Target?