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"I want you to make me into Cinderella," my daughter
announced on schedule, "at the ball."
"How about a ghost," I pleaded, "or something else with one seam?"
"Cinderella," she insisted, "with lace, puffy sleeves, and lots of jewels!"
I silently cursed the other mothers on the block who diligently sewed their
children's costumes each year. They could make ten Cinderellas and a fairy
godmother in the time it took me to tie my shoe. Throughout October, the street
was filled with the hum of sewing machines coming from every direction, but
mine.
"Why go to all of the trouble," my husband asked, "when you can buy her a nice
costume at the mall?"
"All the other mothers in the neighborhood make them," I said. "It's like having
a homemade cake at your birthday party instead of a grocery store special."
"Remember last year," he asked, "when you used the stapler and her halo kept
poking the back of her head and her angel wings blew off into the gutter?"
"She looked very cute while it lasted," I said, "and I enjoyed making the
costume," I paused, "but the last time I turned the sewing machine on, it
trapped my sleeves under the bobbin and stitched a seam up my right arm before I
could pull the cord out of the wall with my foot."
I drummed my fingers on the counter and bit my lower lip. Then I realized the
angel gown was still hanging upstairs in my daughter's closet.
The next day I found it and dyed the white cloth pink and closed the wing holes
with masking tape. I added lace to the front with a glue gun and stuffed the
shoulders with tissue, then expanded last year's halo into a tiara and sprinkled
a stick from the backyard with glitter for a magic wand. I carefully hung my
creation back in my daughter's closet and hoped everything would stick together
until next week.
On Halloween Eve it took twenty minutes to seal my daughter into her costume.
"I'm beautiful!" She twirled in front of the hall mirror.
"Just like Cinderella?" I asked.
"No," she said, "just like you." She kissed me on the cheek.
I was going to hand out candy this year while my husband chaperoned the trick or
treating, so I stood in the doorway and watched them walk down the front steps.
They only got to the end of the driveway before I saw two strips of masking tape
flapping in the wind, the lace beginning to peel, and a wad of tissue working
its way out of the right sleeve, but my daughter was laughing and happily waving
her wand.
"I love you, Mommy!" She turned and blew me a kiss. Underneath all of the tape
and glue Cinderella was still my angel. "See!" I wanted to shout to my husband,
"This is the reason I go to all the trouble!" But, I just blew two kisses back
and hoped my labor of love would hold together through the night.
About the Author:
 Syndicated columnist Debbie Farmer is the author of the print book LIFE IN THE
FAST FOOD LANE. It's available at
http://www.familydaze.com
"Family Daze" is also available weekly to print publications. Contact
Debbie@familydaze.com for more
information.
Life in the Fast-Food Lane (Surviving the Chaos of Parenting)
by Debbie Farmer
Buy at Amazon
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