It's hard to know when these will get scrapped (last year's got done in January), but for now Purim 2011 will be recorded here in all it's glory. When I do get around to scrapping these, I might just follow the design I used for 2010. It's not beautiful, but it's not ugly, it has LOTS of photos, and it tells lots of story: From the Purim carnival in the weeks before Purim, choosing costumes, baking, and Mishloach Manot.
This years Purim begins like this.
Sam started planning his Purim costume weeks in advance. He wanted to be Popeye. Not one to skimp on any details, and armed with parents who can't say no to a young boy trying to fulfill his artistic vision, Sam and Dave ordered a corn cob pipe (I had no idea either), and a sailor hat. Dave had some plans to use pantyhose for the Popeye arms, but the exact details needed to be worked out. Enter Mommy (that's me), who wrapped pajama pants around Sam's forearms (for bulk), wrapped the pj's in ace bandages (to keep them in place, and to create the skin tone), covered them in pantyhose (Dave was right), upon which I drew Popeye's tattoo, and voila. And to make sure it was all accurate, Sam printed up this picture to use as a reference:
The end result:
He wore this on Purim Day, his school Purim Carnival (at which he won most convincing costume), and the Lower East Side Purim Carnival.
Now Max was another story altogether. He is 12, and did not show much interest in dressing up. Dave and I sighed, and said, "Well, I guess he's really getting older." At some point he did mumble something about dressing up with some friends, but he didn't really follow up with any details, so I dismissed it. Purim morning, he says, " I need a pants that I can cut up! And a t-shirt. And I'm meeting my friends by 11:00!" It also turned out that he was planning on delivering some of our family Mishloach Manot as well. Which was nice and convenient, but that would have been helpful information to have a little earlier. I was still printing up little labels to tell everyone that our home made hamantashen were dairy (because everything tastes better with butter), when he absolutely had to leave, so the only photos I could get look like this:
But I think the fact that I got super sub par photos of my almost teenage son, as he ran off to deliver Mishloach Manot with his friends (who, BTW, were dressed as hobos), tells a story of its own; namely that Max is really getting older. And as Dave, Sam, and I went around town delivering the rest of our packages, Sam said, "It's weird that Max isn't here." Which isn't bad. Just different.
I think I'll end here for now, but, guess what? I am not even done yet. Coming tomorrow...A joke from Sam, a quick peek at my Mishloach Manot, AND I discover a surprising secret about my husband! Cue suspenseful music.