I was going to toss up a typical Wordless Wednesday type post with the boys in their Halloween costumes, but I decided I had things to say about said Halloween costumes.
This photo illuminates all of the reasons that I hate store bought costumes:
“Why Luigi, what a big rack you have!” “All the better to smash bricks with???”
Let me tell you the number of things wrong with these costumes.
1. The bellies don’t adjust very well as the velcro is in ridiculously stupid places. Hence Luigi’s large chest that’s supposed to be a belly. Thankfully BigBrother hasn’t really noticed or cared. However, I’m either going to have to deflate the bellies even a bit more (these were not fully blown up) or nix them completely so that the boys can wear warmer clothes under their costumes. It’s supposed to be a bit chilly both evenings we’re going trick-or-treating. The boys already know this is a possibility and they’re okay with it, though they think the bellies are hilarious. Which, they are. Especially BigBrothers, RIGHT?!
2. They’re too small in general. I ordered two costumes in sizes that should have fit according to the website. However, when the costumes arrived, the packaging also listed an “age range,” and when I held them up, yep, they’re small. They’ll “do” for now (and are just barely long enough without the bellies), but please don’t look at the length and judge me as a bad Halloween mom. It’s not my fault the website didn’t find it important to share the length of the costume, just the weight guidelines. (Note to costume websites: My kids weigh less but are just fine height wise. Weight does me no good.) This reason is why you cannot see their feet in any of these photos. Of note: They’re wearing their black rainboots up and under their pant legs, which will at least be warm and dry.
3. Please don’t get me started on the texture.
4. The mustaches are ridiculous. I mean, sure, they’re cute in these pictures, but the sticky stuff on the back? Covers the WHOLE back of the mustache. Left to right, top to bottom. That means that LittleBrother, who has a smaller face/head and the downward facing Mario mustache, has sticky stuff all the way past his mouth and down onto his chin. That causes the mustache to stick to his chin, thus blocking his entire mouth. Very safe, let me tell you. We’re sticking some paper to the back of it so he can, you know, breathe out of his mouth, but the paper is then annoying to a small child. I predict mustache abandonment in less than a hour.
5. I know the gloves are supposed to be big for humor’s sake, but LittleBrother’s are far too big – to the point that the can’t grab things while wearing them. (So yes, if you’re keeping track: the costume is too small but the mustache and gloves are too big. Sizing fails all over the place.)
And on and on and on.
I originally said I wanted to make the boys’ Mario and Luigi costumes. And then life got in the way and I remembered how poorly I sew while trying to complete another task. I looked longingly at some homemade, fantastic Mario and Luigi costumes on Etsy — my favorite being the fireball variations with the red and green overalls — but I couldn’t justify the price. Maybe I should have, as my sons love to dress up and they could have gotten a lot of use out of high quality, well-fitting costumes that they loved. Hindsight; she’s a … well, she’s something. Even still, I was going to make some really cute bags for trick-or-treating, but Halloween is in five days and it’s just not going to happen.
The good news is that the boys love their costumes. And they loved them last year. And the year before. But they year before that, let’s face it: they were really dang cute. I will never be as talented with a sewing machine as my grandmother. My children will have to suck it up in store bought costumes and I will have to let go of the dream of the perfect Halloween. Besides, they’ll go trick-or-treating (twice, mind you). They’ll have fun. They’ll be pleased with their costumes. They’ll get candy. The world will keep turning.
Quite honestly, that sounds pretty darn perfect to me. Not quite Martha Stewart, but pretty darn perfect.
My husband saw me reading How to Be an American Housewife by Margaret Dilloway and laughed. I gave him “the look.” Such is life in my house. I could not be ruffled, however; this was my second time reading the book, and I was loving it just as much as my