I was born a bit of a quirky kid...headstrong might be the most accurate way to say it. As soon as I could talk (and maybe before) I had some pretty firm opinions about the way I thought things should be done- my way, to be exact. But when it came to getting dressed- my mom held those reins tight. For at least the first five years of my life. I remember finally getting to express my budding-fashionista style later in elementary school, but before that I was a living doll, and my mom was all too happy to primp and pose me in frilly dresses, giant bows, and endless french braids.
But where her skills really got to shine was on Halloween. My mom loves a costume. And loves a mother-daughter costume even more. So as the only child, I was the perfect sidekick for her dynamic duo dreams.
Check out our debut: my nine month old, still-bald head shoved into a wig made for a circus drag queen:
(I fully realize the ridiculousness of this, and yet, I don't blame her one bit.
I would kill for this outfit for Piper. White mary-janes? Striped TIGHTS?! Ab-so-lutely.)
The next year is tame by comparison, but still scores big in the cute department. Unfortunately, I don't have a picture that includes my mom...but we make up for it by featuring my eyepatch. Yep. Eyepatch. One of the only times of year you're jealous of my childhood disability because it makes my costume that much more heart melting...
And can we talk about my little limbs sticking out of the sweatsuit? Too good.
(Ps. I'm kind of the spitting image of Piper in this pic. But it may be
because of the judging face of disbelief I'm rocking.)
Up next- 1986, akak, the year of the elephant:
Apparently me and my eyepatch were a lost cause, and my mom took to just covering up my face entirely. I've given up as well, and just stand with my arms out, hoping maybe someone will take pity on me and throw some candy in my bucket. Maybe the giant nose and huge ears are a cruel joke regarding my other senses overcompensating for my eyesight?
But check out my mom's getup- clearly she wanted to cover me up so she could garner the attention as a glamazon zookeeper.
But you have to give her credit...the feet- the TOENAILS. Holy attention to detail.
Please, fake old man. Take pity upon my big-eared blind self.
For my 4th Halloween, it was time to give the people what they want: Full-on matching mom and mini marsupials.
I'm pretty sure she sewed those hats with her own hands.
And picking out the panda print tights + saddles? Nailed it.
And last, in the parade of pre-k costumes...Is a literal pre-K parade of costumes:
(I actually think this was my mom's class of first graders...
but some nice little girl held my hand, so let's not quibble about age.)
I was finally face-paint-free and looking glamorous, in my fairy-ballerina-princess-tap dancer ensemble...?
...While my mom went a different route in some gussied up scrubs:
"Back up a little would you? I want to make sure the station wagon
still fits in the frame when I awkwardly crop this later..."
Thanks mom for teaching me the pure joy a hand-stitched sweatsuit and homemade mask can bring.
I look forward to forcing Piper into itchy, uncomfortable, stop-yanking-up-your-tights-and-stand-still-for-this-photo garb for years to come.