Happy Halloween!
My very first post for Vida Viva, “The Crafty Mom”, is all about how although I am an artist, I am disappointingly untalented at crafts. So you can imagine my excitement when I finally found my inner craftiness and made Owen his first homemade Halloween costume. Punk rocker.
Most of the costume was easy. The t-shirt I just ripped some holes in and used fabric paint to paint an anarchy sign. I was originally going to write “The Clash” but I thought that was kind of cheesy. I thought the anarchy sign was more authentic and therefore hysterical. More later on why I should have gone with cheesy.
The guitar was more work, but by far the best part of the costume. I drew it on cardboard, applied a few layers of gesso, painted it with red and black acrylics, and then cut it out with an exacto knife. I needed Tom to draw the strings with a gold paint pen, because even with a straight edge, I cannot draw a straight line. I’m not sure what learning disability that qualifies me for, but it is no joke. I even put my friend Veronica to work that night because the cardboard box was taking FOREVER to cut through, so she did some of the cutting. It was a group effort. But when we were done, we were giddy anticipating how amazing Owen would look at the Embassy Halloween party Friday.
I glued a checkered ribbon to the guitar to act as a strap so he could wear it on his back, and thought he wouldn’t even notice it once it was on. Minutes before the party I put him in his shirt and camoflauge pants and spiked up his hair. He seriously did not want to wear the guitar. Ok, I thought. When we get to the Embassy to trick or treat around the offices he will be distracted and he will let me put it on him.
We got to the Embassy. Again, he wanted nothing to do with it. I carried it around sort of next to him so people would “get” the costume, but I still got a few “oh he’s an anarchist…?” remarks that made me want to hide under a rock. After all my hard work, he had a costume that made no sense. Not to mention Owen was too little to understand the trick or treating thing and only wanted to play with the elevator. I called Tom at his office in tears and we went home.
When we got there, our housekeeper was just leaving. I drove her to her metro stop, and when I got back, I was greeted by Owen, wearing his guitar. I nearly dropped dead. While I was away, Tom had somehow gotten Owen to wear the guitar to take the pictures I had wanted so badly. Now, lets be honest. This involved some tears. But eventually, he wore the guitar and forgot he had it on….only to take it off fifteen minutes later.
It’s too bad that the party ended up being such a disappointment. But my day was saved when I came home to see that my husband had gone through a battle of the wills with our son to take the pictures, and even a video. That’s love. Besides, if Owen wants to be a rock star anytime in the next few years, I have a guitar waiting for him.
Vida Viva 