Of Costumes and Super Heroes

I had a definite “Oh my goodness, I’m becoming my mother” moment recently in the parking lot of Hancock Fabrics.  It started because I was one of the only people that showed up for work on a Friday after a holiday, and my brain kept seeking a diversion.  I remembered that we could dress up for the hero themed Vacation Bible School the next week and I went straight to figuring out the best no-sew way to make a cape.

In the back of my head I just knew that everyone had talked about dressing up and this was something I was supposed to do.  Just to be safe, I texted the director who is a totally sold-out- to-dress-up kind of gal, and then foraged on to the fabric store regardless of her response.  I totally won the lottery because they were having a mega sale. It was my destiny.

When I got in the car with my haul the director texted back that she wasn’t planning to dress up (though she might throw on a tutu) but she thought a few other people were planning to wear capes.

There I sat in my car in the rain with my discounted gold lame, 2 yards of red sequins, and way too many star appliques.  I thought “How am I here again?!  How am I the one with the over-the-top costume?” Then I wondered whether I really heard the plans about dressing up or if the miniature version of my mom in brain told me it was so.

I texted back that it wouldn’t be the first time for me to be the only one in a costume, because let’s face it – that’s the story of my life.  That text was straight truth.  The scenario usually went one of two ways: 1.) my mother gave no option but dressing up, or 2.)I desperately wanted to be the fun and free person wearing the costume that was bold enough to show up anywhere and own it (adolescence made this waaaay more difficult to follow through with).  So there I sat again as an adult, afraid of being the one to really stand out but desperately wanting to wear a sparkly red cape.

My mother is famous for boldly owning these kinds of moments because she couldn’t care less what people think and she could sew like nobody’s business.  When I was a kid she had that parental quality of being both wondrously enchanting and embarrassing at the same time.  That touch of being a little to the right towards eccentric but not caring because she was going to have fun.  And it was always fun.  Only my fear of the teasing from other kids made it less so, and thankfully that took a few years to kick in.

Today, a distant cousin I’ve only met once in my life posted some old pictures she found on facebook.   I’m in 3 of these pictures and I am wearing a costume in each of them.  One is an old timey family photo where we are all in costume.  Another was my 2^nd grade spring picture where they sent a letter home informing our parents these pictures would be representative of Tennessee’s bicentennial celebration on Pioneer Day – which translated to me being the only kid actually dressed like a pioneer for her picture.  But hey, do you have a picture of yourself dressed like a Victorian librarian with a rocking chair draped in the Tennessee state flag? Boo-yah!  I didn’t think so.  Thanks mom!

The third picture most represents who I hope I really am.  It’s a family picture in the front yard and I am proudly wearing the neon orange overalls and giant straw hat from my 4^th grade tap routine. I am clearly enjoying said overalls and I even appear to be wearing them by choice and I don’t care who knows it.  I first learned how to jump and kick my heels together for that dance routine.  Ironically, that move is what I used as my special teacher skill while wearing my homemade Wonder Woman costume last week at Vacation Bible School.  

I wish I could say I fully owned my sequined cape and gold cuffs at VBS, but I was still scared of being the weird one.  I got over myself enough to wear them for at least the opening service each morning.  I did it for the little girls that need to see a grown up being silly and not caring what people think and for the part of me that thought it was so much fun.  The payoff was enormous because for three days I looked down to find a string of little ones standing quietly by my side just to touch the sparkles.