Showing posts with label fashion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fashion. Show all posts

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Clothes Minded

Mornings are a battle at our house. "Eat your breakfast." "Drink your milk." "No you cannot have candy for breakfast."

Because I like to lay in bed until the last possible second, I have one hour to feed myself and two children. In that hour I must also make sure that they and myself are dressed. I almost wrote "dressed properly" but that is not the case. Maybe dressed for the weather? That is closer to the truth.

Of course I'm the easiest to get dressed. I grab a sweater and jeans. Usually off of the floor but that's okay because they are clean. Okay cleanish.

Bunny is 5 so you think she could handle getting herself dressed. That is not the case. If left to her own devices, I would find her playing with her toys without having picked any clothes out. So I have to "help" her.

"Skirt or dress" I ask her when we get into her room. Because clearly pants are out of the question. "Leggings or tights" is the next question. Once she chooses we can get the ball rolling. She then picks between the options in her drawer or closet and the clothes are laid on her bed.

You would think I could then leave her to get ready on her own. Um no. "Momma! Momma!" "What sweetie?" "I want you to keep me company." I return to her room to find her still in her pajamas. So I have to sit with her to make sure she gets dressed properly. And I usually have to help her a long.

Lion in a way is easier to get dressed. No he's not. He is two nothing is easy with him at all. He insists on picking out his clothes himself. He also insists on putting his clothes on BY HIMSELF. If you try to assist him in any way, he will throw himself on the floor and cry. But you also can't get up to do something else. You have to sit next to him and watch. All so you can see him throw his hands up in the air and say "Ta da" when he is finished.

The real problem with Lion lies in his clothes choice. He has definite opinions on what he wants to wear. The shirt must have dinosaurs. If it doesn't then it must have a car, truck or other vehicle. The pants must not match the shirt in any way. Track pants are worn with a train sweater and polo shirt. Tan corduroys are worn with a mismatched t-shirt, long sleeved shirt combo.

Next is the footwear and outerwear choice. Boots are his first choice. Snow boots are preferable but if they have been hidden by his mother, then rain boots are it. Or maybe hiking boots but not usually. His yellow rain slicker is the coolest coat he has ever seen. He demands to wear it always. However if his mother is mean and says he must wear a warmer jacket he will not be happy about it. All of this is topped off with his sister's white hat with pink snowflakes or a red knit hat about 2 sizes two big.




The effect is homeless fisherman, don't you think?

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Uniformity

When I was in school (Catholic school) I wore a uniform. Blue pants or skirt and white shirt in grade school and a plaid skirt and white shirt in high school. I hated wearing a uniform. I didn't want to be like everyone else, I wanted to be an individual. So I tried to push the boundaries. I was out of uniform almost every day, not a lot but just enough to make me feel like I was being myself.

More often than not my little transgressions were not noticed. I rarely got in trouble for it. But I still felt like a rebel.

Now that I am older, I understand the value of uniforms. They are easy. You don't have to think about it, you just slip it on and go. I can't tell you how many times I would stand in my closet while I was working and throw reject after reject on the bed. Some days it took me an hour to get dressed. Not good, especially when your boss is a man who can't possibly understand.

I don't have the same worries now that I am home. I don't need to impress anyone. I'm not dressing for success, I'm dressing for comfort. My uniform consists of jeans, sweaters and t-shirts. And if I'm being honest, sweat pants.

But those sweat pants, however comfy they are, are not allowed to cross the threshold of my house. I swore I would never be that mom. I would not wear my sweats in public (unless I just left the gym and that rarely happens anymore). So I'll be in the house in sweats and even if I'm running out to the store for 10 minutes I have to put on my jeans. I just do.

Maybe there is still a little rebel in me.