There are many things about motherhood nobody tells you.
The acute observer may notice these things but usually they go unseen and unspoken of, particularly by the childfree portion of the population. There’s a conspiracy of silence surrounding the more unsavoury duties of motherhood. And it is mothers who invariably end up with this particularly onerous task.
Yes, I’m talking about making costumes.
So far this year I’ve had to come up with:
A sixties mod-it’s amazing what can be achieved with a mini dress, false eyelashes and a bit of teasing and hairspray
A medieval maiden-where velvet and chiffon came into their own and a passion for gothic dresses was established
A peasant-earth tones only, mob cap, mercifully, provided
And now I need to fit an Arabian Nights theme.
I headed off to the op-shop with the Professor of Pendantics and high hopes of some harem pants left over from the early nineties or at the very least a decorative crop top. Two hours later, having trawled through every place likely to harbour costumes or clothes from which costumes could be constructed we were back home empty handed.
It was in desperation that I dragged out a bag from the back of the wardrobe with thoughts of piecing something together from some old sarongs.
And there it was-a sheer black skirt with some vaguely Arabic gold print. I remember wearing it back in the day with a black crop top. More digging and sure enough I found it. With a bit of adjusting it could do.
The Professor tried the ensemble on-and it fit!
No adjusting necessary. Hoorah!
(I’m not sure what shocked me more. The fact that my baby can fit into clothes I wore in my late teens or the fact that I was once that thin. Look see there’s the evidence-she’s wearing it.)
So tomorrow I have to develop RSI sewing tiny gold elephants and bells onto the crop top. Then I can breathe a sigh of relief until the next costume notice comes home from school.