Dog Days of October

Jeremy and I love Halloween. We love decorating, we love dressing up, we love candy. (Well, maybe I love candy enough for both of us.)

We especially love homemade costumes. We stand in opposition to store-bought costumes. (Not in small part because all of the adult female costumes are variations on a slutty theme. But I digress.)

Chelsea announced last November 1st that she would be Thomas the Tank Engine this Halloween. And after a year of dreaming about the costume I would make for her, I broke down and bought her a store-bought version a few weeks ago.

With Chelsea squared away, I turned my attention to Savannah. We saw an adorable bumblebee costume at Gymboree and I had an attack of "I can make that!"

Later at home, I said to Savannah: "Mommy is going to make you a bumblebee costume! Won't that be cute? Do you want to be a bumblebee for Halloween?"

And she said, "Daw!"

Translation: "Dog!"

Me: "You want to be a dog for Halloween?"

Her: (big smile) "Yeah, yeah!"

Me: (to myself, in my head) YOU ARE TOO LITTLE TO EVEN KNOW WHAT HALLOWEEN IS! HOW DARE YOU ROB ME OF MY ADORABLE BUMBLEBEE!

So I decided to make a dog costume. I figured, I'll buy a white sweat suit, slap some black spots on it, throw some ears on the head and I'll have a cute little dalmatian. I mean, how hard can it be?

Surprisingly hard.

There must be a plain white sweatsuit at Target, right? No. There is one covered in sparkles and glitter. There should be one at Walmart, yes? No. There is one covered in rainbows and unicorns. Ditto for Kohl's, Old Navy, and anywhere else you might think to look for a plain white sweatsuit.

Next thing I know, we're in the costume aisle at Target. There are 3 dog costumes. A Saint Bernard, complete with a mini-cask of booze around the neck, which she (thank goodness) declined. A giant Scooby Doo costume, which she also declined and wouldn't have fit her anyway. And a $49.95 Pokey Little Puppy number which she also declined, with gratitude from my bank account.

Next stop, Halloween Superstore in an old empty Linens n Things, Best Buy, or Mervyn's. We find a perfectly cute, generic brown dog, in her size for less than the price of a dinner for four. She refuses! Now what!?

Can't make homemade, can't agree on store-bought, I finally decide I'm just going to dress her up as a bumblebee, and she's going to like it, dammit!

We go to Walmart to pick up some bumblebee supplies: yellow and black tulle (because bumblebees wear tutus, didn't you know?), yellow ribbon, elastic. On our way to the check-out, we detour through the Halloween section.

And find a cheap, toddler-size, Scooby Doo costume. Which Chelsea hands Savannah and Savannah promptly hugs and loves.

We bring it home for the moment of truth: will she actually wear it? We get the little body suit on, and the last part is a soft, hood-like dog head that straps under the chin with velcro.

This is a kid who pulls off every hat and yanks hair bows and barrettes right out. There is no way she's going to wear a velcroed-on dog face strapped to her head.

But she does.

And the pure joy on her face when I take her to the mirror to look at herself is priceless.

So now both of my precious angels will be wearing store-bought costumes this year. And my sweet bumblebee dreams have been dashed.

But, is this not the cutest little Scooby Doo you've ever seen?

.

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Bee Girl Story

Halloween 1993 I dressed up as the Bee Girl. You know, this Bee Girl.

There must be a picture of me in my homemade (read: stapled together) Bee Girl costume floating around somewhere, probably in the closet of my room at my parents' house, where all the Ninja Turtle stuff is stashed. But I don't have one to post, so you'll have to imaginize it. (How do I look? Cute? Ok, good.)

***EDITED TO ADD THIS:

(Many, many props to my dear friend Amy for unearthing, digitizing, and sending me this photo. You cannot fully appreciate how magical it is that she did this until you know that she moved to the east coast a full 5 years before this photo was taken. The fact that she a) had it, b) knew where to find it, c) took the time to scan it, send it... I'm in awe. Amy, you are the best!)

I was a freshman at UCLA and working in the promotions department of our campus radio station. Working in promo meant that I had to help construct and paint a hideous, lumpy brown dinosaur for the homecoming parade, which fell on Halloween weekend. (Why a dinosaur? I certainly don't know now and I think I didn't even know then. One of those college mysteries. Was our homecoming theme The Flintstones? It seems unlikely. But I digress.)

Being in promo also meant that I had to walk in the parade, with the hideous float, handing out whatever promotional crap we had to give away. In some sort of cosmic coincidence, the promo items I had to distribute were cassette tapes (I know! 1993, remember?) of Blind Melon's No Rain, which was the song that had the Bee Girl in the video.

The parade starts. I am walking along and people literally start losing their minds. "Oh my God! It's the Bee Girl!" Then they realize I am giving free shit away and they REALLY start losing their minds: "BEE GIRL! OVER HERE, BEEEEE GIIIIIRRRLL!!!"

Several people wanted to have their picture taken with me, which was very flattering and also slightly confusing. I mean, they knew that I wasn't the actual Bee Girl, right? She's like a ten-year-old kid? I tried to ignore that little conundrum and just enjoy the glow of temporary celebrity.

Later in the night, I had an interview scheduled for some other volunteer position in a campus organization. I know, I was a busy little bee. (HAH! See that? I was the Bee Girl and I was busy? LIKE A BEE!?)

My interrogator, I mean, interviewer must have made up his questions in advance because the final query was: Pick one item of your clothing and explain how it defines you. Someone else in the room stood up in my defense, "Dude, she's in a costume!" But I managed to pull something out of my ass by relating myself to my shoes (nice, sturdy, straight-laced normal shoes). And really, anyone who shows up at a job interview in a Bee Girl costume should have to take whatever they dish out, yes?

Did I get the job? Yes, but I didn't keep it.

Did I stay with campus radio? Sadly, no. I love me some free stickers and T-shirts and CDs as much as the next kid, but promo is just not me.

Do I wish like all get-out that I still had that damn Bee Girl costume stashed away somewhere, too?

Wouldn't you?

PS Thanks to Jason and his post on MamaPop for inspiring this post.
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Two Officers and a Stray Cat

Halloween 2007, on the way to a party. Jeremy and I were part of a group dressing as Reno 911. Chelsea is dressed as Bootsie (a stray black cat we met at the playground one day). I'm pregnant with Savannah, hence the button-down shirt that doesn't button down.)
Rad photography, right? I managed to cut off Jeremy's head AND feet. You would never guess that I used to work as a professional photog, would you? (But that's another post...)
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Dr. & Mrs. Evil, and Mini-Me

Halloween 2006. On our way to a party. Chelsea was 10 months old.

We were pretty rad, no? I'm totally distracted by the background: what the hell was on TV? Also, that bright shiny rectangle way up high is the license plate that is the banner for this blog, and I need to dig that baby gate around the TV out of storage 'cause Savannah wants to put her fingers in the VCR all. the. time. But forget all of that: check out our groovy costumes!