When a Garbage Bag and Bed Sheet Were Enough: Remembering the Halloweens of Our Childhood

I remember when a black garbage bag and some safety scissors were all you needed to transform into a witch. Maybe a little eyeliner from your mom’s vanity and a crooked paper hat made from last week’s newspaper. No one had Pinterest boards or color-coordinated candy buckets. We just needed a pillowcase and a vague plan.

Halloween used to be simple.

We didn’t think about matching costumes for siblings or whether our porch décor had a “theme.” We didn’t order anything three months in advance, and we certainly didn’t pay rush shipping for glow-in-the-dark skeleton leggings. If we had them, they came from Kmart, the local drugstore, or our mother’s old sewing bin — and we made it work.

But now? Halloween has turned into a full-blown production, and I am 100% become guilty of participating.  

When Halloween Was Homemade

For those of us who grew up before Amazon Prime and the rise of “influencer parenting,” Halloween meant rummaging through closets and junk drawers for inspiration. You could be anything — as long as you could make it from what you already had.

A witch? Easy. Black trash bag, some string, a broom. Done. A ghost? Old sheet and two holes (bonus points if you didn’t trip down the porch steps).A cheerleader? Your cousin’s hand-me-down uniform from two years ago. A hobo (we didn’t know any better then)? Some eyeliner “beard” and your dad’s flannel.

We were creative because we had to be. And somehow, it felt magical — not because everything was perfect, but because it wasn’t.

Enter the Era of the Overachiever Mom

Then came the age of the internet. Suddenly, Halloween went from a night of fun to a competition of epic proportions.

You know what I mean — the Pinterest Mom. The one who somehow manages to craft a hand-sewn costume, bake ghost-shaped cookies, decorate her porch with coordinated pumpkins, and still have perfect eyeliner in the trick-or-treat photos.

We love her. We admire her. We also quietly resent her.

Somewhere along the way, Halloween became another thing we have to “do right.”

And the unspoken rules appeared:

• Costumes must be creative, not store-bought.

• Photos must be posted before November 1st.

• Siblings should coordinate (and preferably match the dog).

• Candy distribution should be allergy-friendly and Instagram-worthy.

Even school Halloween parties have changed. Remember when they just gave us cupcakes and Kool-Aid and called it a day? Now there are spreadsheets, sign-up sheets, and rules about what kind of sugar, gluten, or artificial dyes are permitted.

It’s not that we don’t love it. We do. It’s fun to see kids light up when they get to dress as their favorite superhero or character. But sometimes, between the shipping confirmations, costume alterations, and photo ops, we forget what Halloween used to feel like — wild, silly, unpolished fun.

The “Perfect Halloween” Pressure

I see it every year in the faces of moms at Target, scanning the aisles the week before Halloween like soldiers on a mission.

One is trying to find the last Elsa dress in her daughter’s size. Another is on her phone, comparing the reviews of a $49 inflatable costume that will inevitably deflate halfway down the street. A third has that haunted look of someone whose child changed their mind — for the third time — about what they want to be.

And we smile at each other, silently acknowledging the chaos. Because behind every cute photo on Instagram is a mom who just spent two hours hot-gluing sequins onto a cardboard tail.

Why do we do it?

Because we love our kids. Because we want them to feel special. Because deep down, we remember how much magic there is in pretending — and we don’t want them to miss a drop of it.

But maybe, just maybe, in trying to make it perfect, we’ve made it more stressful than special.

The Costume Evolution

Then	Now
Garbage bag witch	Hand-sewn tulle skirt, custom hat, monogrammed broom
White sheet ghost	Professionally printed “spooky” ghost onesie
Store-bought mask	3D-printed armor with LED lights
Plastic pumpkin bucket	Personalized fabric tote with embroidered name
Pillowcase candy bag	Designer tote that says “Boo Crew”

Don’t get me wrong — it’s adorable. The creativity today is incredible. Families show up in coordinated themes: Toy Story, Star Wars, Harry Potter. Parents dress up, pets join in, and every street looks like a movie set.

But sometimes I look at those perfect photos and wonder if we’ve lost a little bit of the charm — the messy, homemade, let’s-just-go-have-fun kind of Halloween.

When We Were Kids

We didn’t plan Halloween for months. We didn’t even think about it until someone mentioned it at school the week before. “What are you gonna be?” someone would ask. And you’d shrug. “I dunno. I’ll figure it out.”

That was the plan. And somehow, we always did.

We’d come home from school, rummage through closets, find a hat or a sheet or something black, and just make it work. Maybe you went as a vampire with ketchup blood and a plastic cape from the drugstore. Maybe your mom found a clown wig in the attic. Maybe your best friend’s mom drew whiskers on your cheeks with eyeliner, and boom — you were a cat.

We didn’t have ring lights or filters, but we had freedom. We weren’t worried about likes or comments — we just wanted candy.

And the joy was pure. Running through the October night, the smell of humidity and Snickers and the thrill of knocking on doors, just hoping they would answer. And, if they did, PLEASE hand out candy, not homemade popcorn balls or pencils. That’s what made Halloween magical.

What Changed?

In a word: expectations.

We live in a time where everything — every milestone, every event — can be shared instantly. And whether we realize it or not, we measure ourselves against what we see.

Her kids’ costumes look perfect. Her porch décor is gorgeous. Her Halloween party had matching cupcakes. Maybe I should try harder.

But the truth is, the heart of Halloween isn’t perfection. It’s play .It’s letting your kids be silly and creative and maybe even a little cold in the driveway because they refused to wear a jacket over their costume.

It’s watching them run from house to house, breathless and laughing. It’s digging through their candy bags later that night, stealing a Reese’s when they’re not looking.

No amount of Instagram polish can improve on that.

Making It Special Again

If you’re feeling the pressure this Halloween — to make the costumes, take the perfect photo, host the Pinterest-worthy party — maybe it’s time to reclaim the joy.

Here are a few reminders to keep the focus on what matters:

1. Let your kids take the lead. If your child wants to wear the same Spider-Man costume for the third year in a row, let them. The memory isn’t in the photo — it’s in their excitement.

2. Simplify your traditions. You don’t have to bake from scratch or handcraft everything. Order pizza. Watch a movie. Sit on the porch and hand out candy. That’s enough.

3. Embrace imperfection. If the costume rips, if the glitter spills, if someone forgets their candy bucket — laugh. Those are the stories they’ll remember.

4. Teach them creativity. Instead of ordering everything online, help your kids make part of their costume from things around the house. Let them get messy. Let them imagine.

5. Take the picture — then put down the phone. Capture the memory, yes. But then be in it. Walk with them. Hold their hands. Notice the sound of their laughter and the smell of the air. That’s the real snapshot.

Maybe It’s Both — Special and Stressful

So, does all this effort make Halloween more special or more stressful?

Maybe it’s a bit of both.

There’s something undeniably wonderful about the creativity and care parents put into making Halloween magical today. But there’s also something we lost along the way — the simplicity, the spontaneity, the sense that “good enough” was plenty.

Maybe this year, we can find a balance. Maybe we can keep the sparkle and drop the pressure. Maybe we can remember that a black garbage bag and a little imagination once made us feel just as magical as any hand-sewn princess gown.

And maybe — when we let go of perfection — we’ll find that Halloween becomes what it’s always meant to be: a night for laughter, candy, and childhood wonder.

🍬 A Final Thought 

Motherhood, like Halloween, is rarely picture-perfect — but it’s full of moments that stick. The crooked smiles. The messy porches. The last-minute creativity that somehow works out anyway.

We pass down memories, not aesthetics. And sometimes, the greatest legacy we can give our children isn’t a perfectly planned holiday — it’s permission to find joy in the imperfect ones.

So, whether your child is wearing a handmade masterpiece or a garbage bag with attitude, may this Halloween remind us all: It doesn’t have to be perfect to be precious.

Thank you for your time. It is extremely valuable, and I sincerely appreciate you sharing it with me. Be strong. Be brave. Be kind. Never be afraid to GREAUX.