Everybody make a scene...
Yay! It's Halloween! I sent the kids to daycare in their Halloween clothes -- Milo has a glow-in-the-dark skeleton hoodie and Violet has a pair of orange and yellow pants and a black owl t-shirt with orange and yellow sleeves. Mr. Milo was very excited this morning and is looking forward to trick-or-treating with his daycare buddy. Violet will enjoy herself, but likely won't quite understand what's going on. This year, anyway... next year she'll get it, LOL!
Milo intends to dress as Jango Fett. He's had the costume for almost two months now and put it on to play dress-up weekly. Violet will be Yoda and she's going to ride in our backpack carrier on daddy's back. Daddy might figure out how to dress as Luke Skywalker, we'll see... And, if there's time, I'm going to wear the flapper costume I procured for my sister's themed wedding reception.
I'll stay home and hand out treats. In his infinite wisdom, Scott has hidden the candy from me. And, since he didn't buy anything chocolate, I haven't been able to sniff it out. Which is rather unfortunate as I'm thinking a bit of chocolate sounds pretty yummy today.
I'm actually pretty surprised that we've bought the kids costumes so far. Scott takes great pride in costuming for Halloween, but we haven't been on the ball enough to make costumes for the kids yet. I have the feeling we'll get the chance next year, as Violet will likely opt for something sparkly and cute. Milo will still fit into his Jango Fett costume and, I suspect, he'll choose to wear it again. I could be wrong, but the Star Wars obsession is still raging -- the Force is strong in that one...
My most memorable Halloween wasn't memorable because of a costume, or a party, or anything even related to Halloween. When I was thirteen, I got my first period right before Halloween. And that's why it is most memorable. I didn't have a horror story with blood everywhere like Carrie, and I don't remember any pain or anything. But overnight I felt grown-up. And suddenly Halloween seemed childish. I had stopped trick-or-treating -- mainly because I always seemed to have a dance lesson at TOT time. I dressed up for school because, in those un-PC times, wearing a costume to school was still considered fun. Even though half of the boys in the eighth grade showed up wearing dresses with balloon boobs.
Oh, the joys of middle school. I remember I spent half of sixth grade pining away for the boy who sat in front of me in class -- overjoyed when he agreed to dance with me at that most torturous of all events -- a middle school dance --then devastated when he ducked away halfway through the song. It was a completely unrequited crush. I crushed on no one my seventh grade year. I was focused on out-performing my best friend academically and was devoting my time to ballet. In eighth grade, my crush liked one of my best friends. I was hurt and disappointed and, since it was the end of the school year, the situation was left hanging. I couldn't get around town by myself, so friendships were mainly a school year thing -- they often dwindled and vanished over the summer. When I started high school, both my friend and the crush had moved away.
By eighth grade, I had determined that no one was ever going to dance with me at a school dance, so I went to mostly poke fun at the oh-so-fresh sixth graders and their terrified wide eyes. My sister included, though her eyes were never wide and her life experience quickly outpaced mine.
It seems so long ago, yet if I concentrate hard I can smell the Industrial Arts room, hear the bustling cafeteria, and feel the cold solidity of the tops of the science tables. As always, I remember mostly biding my time in anticipation of high school...then college... I know I wasn't an easy fit with my peers -- I wasn't good at playing the popularity game. I don't think I was particularly mean to anyone, but I'm not sure you'd remember me as the chattiest girl around, either. No worries, though, I think I came out just fine. Unlike Brenda and Eddie, I didn't peak too soon. But I guess that the costume of my own skin didn't really fit until adulthood, and I'm OK with that treat.