A Revealing Halloween

The first week of September, my oldest daughter, who in her own words is “four and three-quarters” sat me down to discuss our Halloween costumes. After she decided she was going to be a rock star, she asked, “Now what are you going to be Mommy?”

What a celebrated gene pool moment! My child loves Halloween as much as I do. It has always been my favorite holiday. No expectations, shopping lists, or stuffed turkeys with red jelly. All one needs is a great costume and a large bag of candy. When I lived in LA, I threw an annual Halloween party filled with large crowds, wild dancing, and fabulous costumes. A memorable moment was when I greeted the cops dressed as a cop. While they were not happy with the decibel level of our party, they were impressed with my costume. Some of my other favorites were flapper, disco queen and, yes I admit, dominatrix.

So when I decided to be a pumpkin this year, I knew something was amiss. Dominatrix. Pumpkin. Could this be the same person?

My mother was the first to protest. “You can’t be a pumpkin. I think you should be Super Mom.” While I was flattered by my Mom’s suggestion, she is my mom. Of course, she thinks I’m super. But Super Mom, I am not. That title is saved for moms who fold their kids’ underwear into nice squares and successfully feed them broccoli.

I asked some friends in my mom’s group what they were planning on being for Halloween. Several of them responded with their children’s costumes. Interesting. When asked about ourselves, we discuss our children. Sounds like a Dr. Phil “aha!” moment and material for a future column. But first I need to finish obsessing about costumes.

My friend Maile is going to be a fairy godmother for moms. Coffee in one hand, glass of wine in the other. Now that’s creative thinking. I say just add a liposuction wand to her powers and she’s in business. I also heard about a Rotten Tooth Fairy and Space Mom. Maybe I just needed to add a twist and be a Pumpkin Pie or better yet, a Pumpkin Patch.

“You can not be a pumpkin.” Annie yelled at me. “I won’t allow it.”

“There is nothing wrong with being a pumpkin,” I said. “It is organic, earthy, and has an orange wig with a green stem. That’s kind of sexy.”

“No, it’s not. “ Annie pressed. “You need to be Super Girl. You look just like her.”

She has boys so she lives in the world of Super Heroes. I don’t even know what Super Girl looks like, but I liked the idea.

I called my friend Noelle Schoop, a professional Hollywood stylist. If anyone could turn a pumpkin into Super Girl, it was Noelle.

“Halloween is the one day of the year when it’s acceptable to indulge our fantasies. As moms, we shut the door on that side of ourselves that says, “look at me.” Noelle explained. She was right. I have never fantasized about being a pumpkin, but Super Girl just seemed so revealing, both physically and emotionally.

“This is the one night of the year to step out of your comfort zone and expose yourself.” Noelle added, “I am sure you feel super on the inside, so just do it. Dress as Super Girl.” I actually feel more like a pumpkin, but I had three votes for a Super costume. How could I say no?

I went to Costume Palace and got the largest Super Girl outfit available. My kids went nuts with excitement. And I’m having a pretty good time, too. I unloaded the dishwasher and mopped the floor in my costume. I was laughing the whole time. I’m thinking this costume could make domestic chores a lot more fun.

So if you see a large red cape walking down the aisle at Albertson’s, it’s probably me. Getting a few last minute essentials.