Parental Units: Our un-crafty Halloween

Parental Units

Katy Sinclair

As of this morning, another Halloween season is over. For that, I am grateful.

Though fall is my favorite season, the Halloween part is stressful. I appreciate the free candy and the pumpkin picking but finalizing The Costume is difficult.

While my 5-year-old is relatively easy to please, she doesn’t fully grasp how hard it is for me to create the outfit of her dreams. You see, I can’t sew or draw or paint. It’s safer for everyone if I stay away from the scissors and glue.

She’s a unique one, my 5-year-old, so she isn’t keen on the off-the-shelf options. That leaves us with handmade and now you see the crux of the problem.

This year I got lucky. On a lark, we headed to Front Range Mercantile Indoor Flea Market on South Sunset Street. Jackpot: We came away with a gorgeous Snow White dress that looks more like the one in the movie than the Disney store costumes. The bodice sparkles with hand-placed beads; the skirt swishes with yards and yards of yellow tulle. It is handmade, classic and most importantly, easy for me.

I wish I could create something for her. But even if I could cut straight, truth is, I’m a slacker.

With an almost-2-year-old also in the house, I admit to a minimum of house cleaning. She just dumps out the things I put away. I buy cookies because my baking can be hit or miss. (I have yet to master the high-altitude adjustments 10 years after moving here.) And while everyone else in the house has a bath every day, I sometimes must be content with just brushing my teeth and hair.
I have definite parenting goals — I want my two girls healthy, happy and (relatively) clean. Most of the time, I’m fine with such simple aspirations.

But come Halloween, my uncrafty inferiority complex starts to creep out of the shadows.

Fortunately, the candy almost makes up for my angst. Personally, I prefer the hard stuff — dark chocolate with exotic flavors and textures. But $12 candy bars never show up in my daughter’s treat bag.

Rather than deny myself, I gorge on her Tootsie Rolls, Nerds, candy corn and miniature Butterfingers. (While my daughter loses interest in her loot pretty quickly, I still ask her permission. I am stickler for manners.)

As you read this, I’m likely standing next to a sink full of dirty dishes, snarfing a Snickers bar. Everyone knows the calories don’t count if you eat while you are standing, and I think I earned a treat after wrestling with all my Halloween-induced anxiety. I’ll need the energy to begin preparations for (buying most of) the Thanksgiving feast.

Email: katysinclair09@gmail.com