Ten Halloweens ago, caught up in the excitement of new parenthood, I happily tackled the job of making my infant daughter’s first costume. Wanting it to be warm, I chose a white two-piece hooded sweat suit. To the hood, I sewed two small, pointed ears. I trimmed the belly, sleeves, and cuffs with synthetic black fur, and to the rear, attached a long white tail tipped in black.

On Halloween night, I dressed Celeste in her costume, painted whiskers on her cheeks and a pink circle on the tip of her nose, and believed her to be the most adorable little cat on the face of the earth.  

And my neighbors sort of agreed. Except several thought she was the most adorable mouse, a few called her the cutest little bunny, some called her a pup, and one misguided (and perhaps nearsighted) old soul looked at her and moo-ed.  

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There are times I don’t write because I have too much going on, other times, too little. And sometimes, I feel like I don’t have anything to say that doesn’t sound like complaining, so I consider the the words of that great philosopher (I believe it was Thumper), who said, “If you can’t say somethin’ nice, don’t say anything at all.”

The house situation is behind us–sort of. We ended up renting the house to a very nice woman named Reba who will live there with her daughter and nieces (and a Pug). Although it definitely wasn’t what I hoped would happen, they seem like great people and hopefully, it’ll work out. Financially, though, it’s not the solution we needed. Selling it would’ve made everything so much easier. I need easier for a while.

Health-wise, I’m not having the best time of it lately. My heart’s been beating too fast and they don’ t know why. I went for a stress test on Friday and have to go back for two more heart tests next week. I’m on a medication that’s slowing it down, so I’m feeling considerably better and more energetic than I have for a while, but I’m not as clear-headed. This is my busiest time of year at work and I need to be more on the ball than I feel like I am. It’s frustrating.

Complain, complain. Sheesh. I hate being this way. If I keep this up, they’re going to rename my blog “Whinegirl.”

Those folks in the mail order Halloween costume business sure know their stuff. Their catalogs begin arriving in our mailbox about the same time as the back-to-school ads. While some might say the costume hawkers are jumping the gun with such early promotions, I suspect they do it because they know just how persuasive-and relentless-children can be.   

Not to mention how fickle.  

My daughter used to spend days studying costume catalogs until they were dog-eared and ragged. Once Celeste had finally made her selection, she’d begin her campaign. She’d plead, cajole, sometimes even go as far as offering to pay for the costume herself. But in spite of her many assurances that her mind was made up, somewhere between the costume’s arrival and Halloween, she’d start edging toward something different.   

This year, though, she caught me off guard. After poring over the catalogs like she was cramming for finals, she announced she was going to be a hobo. I waited expectantly, anticipating a hobo costume adorned with rhinestones and sequins, but when pressed, she said, “I’m just going to make it myself.”   

Homemade costumes are the best. They’re what dressing up for Halloween should be-cobbling an outfit together requires more creativity than cash to assemble. Since it’s sometimes takes a little grease to get those creative wheels turning, I thought I’d share some of the extremely simply costume ideas I’ve been collecting.   

* Dress in all black or all gray, then glue candy wrappers, chewed gum, lots of popcorn, and an empty popcorn box to your clothes. Tell folks you’re the floor of a movie theater.   

* Wear blue surgical scrubs with clusters of cotton balls glued here and there. Carry a loaded water gun. When people ask what you are, squirt them with the water gun and say you’re, “Partly Cloudy with a Chance of Showers.”   

* Wrap yourself in duct tape, sticky side out, then roll around on a freshly mowed lawn and go as a Chia Pet.  

* Paint “Go Ceilings!” on the front of a plain t-shirt, then walk around clapping and cheering. (Ceiling Fan) Or tie a single leaf to a string and attach it to the bill of a ball cap so that it dangles in front of your face. When someone asks what you are, blow on the leaf and say, “Leafblower.”  

* Costume for men: Find a box large enough to fit over your body, cut arm and leg holes, then cover the box with wrapping paper and a big bow. Attach a big gift tag that says “TO: Women, FROM: God.” (God’s Gift to Women.)  

* Dress in black from head to toe. Attach a large “8″ to your chest. Whenever someone asks what you are, say, “Reply hazy. Try again.” or “As I see it, yes.” (Magic 8 Ball) 

* Wear several undershirts to serve as padding before putting on a dark blue sweatshirt upon which you’ve stenciled, “K-9 Unit - Trainer.” Attach a realistic-looking stuffed dog to the sleeve. (Attack Dog Trainer)  

* No time to pull a costume together? Just wear your normal clothes and carry a sign that says, “Nudist On Strike.” Or if you have a small toy airplane handy, just carry it with you and if someone claims you’re not in costume, say you’re an Aircraft Carrier. Or carry a cigarette lighter and a CD with you and every now and then, hold the flame under the CD. Tell people you’re a CD Burner. 

* Or dress in black and blue and say you’re a Bruise.

* Or you can do like my daughter is planning–borrow your Mom’s favorite flannel shirt, and go as a bum. 

A few who read what I’m about to tell on myself might think I don’t deserve a child. And they might be correct–if they were talking about just any kid. Luckily, Celeste is half me, thus genetically equipped to dish out just as well (or better) as she receives.

Our house is not normal, but normal’s so overrated. Although we have our share of serious times, we’re most often silly. To successfully prank each other is, perhaps, our most common goal. Our family crest reads, “Do unto others, then duck.”

Both Geoff and Celeste are gifted at telling outrageous, I-should-know-better-than-to-believe-this lies, and they do so in such a casual, offhand manner that I’m continually caught off-guard. Even though I know this, I’m apparently so inherently gullible that my initial reaction is almost always to believe. It often takes an eye roll or a lip twitch for me to realize my chain’s being yanked. Although I’m nowhere near as gifted as them, once in a while, I manage a doozey

My favorite took place a few years ago, when Celeste and her friend, Jordan, were 7 and 8. The two had found a birdcage in our basement and decided to try hatching a raw egg from our refrigerator. I could’ve done as most moms would and explained the futility of their endeavor. Instead, as I walked past them, I casually said, “You need to keep that warm if you want it to hatch.”

Geoff followed my lead, “And be sure to turn it every 15 minutes or so.” (more…)