So we talked about how I could live in yoga pants for life. And I could. I often do. Like 6 times out of 7. Or something like that. When you have to settle on an outfit in 3 seconds flat because your toddler is literally banging his head against a wall waiting for you to leisurely finish “getting ready,” yoga pants do just fine. But there are certain times that call for a more, umm, public relations kind of look. Know what I’m saying? Like, when you get together with friends who don’t actually have kids. And you don’t want them giving you that look that says “*THIS* is why we don’t have kids.”
(I’M NOT PROJECTING!)
The problem is I’m not ready to give up comfy clothes that feel like workout gear. It’s cold up in this mother known as Massachusetts. I need warmth and comfort. For instance, at 11am on Friday mornings, I need to be able to (in no particular order, I’m just spitballing here:) simultaneously kick off my shoes and hustle into the classroom while my son kicks me in the “virginia” because I am holding him; squat on the floor while my son paints with glue and cotton balls, then hoards said gluey cotton balls; shuffle/run behind Colin as runs around the classroom screaming “choo choo!” hands outstretched (with gluey cotton balls) ready to knock over the nearest toddler; avoid trampling said toddlers myself; pry him off of the tiny table he has decided to climb on while the teacher helpfully chirps her weekly reminder to my son: “We keep our feet on the floor, Colin!” Repeat. Ad nauseum. For the longest 45 minutes of my life. (I am hopeful that if I continue to socialize my son he will eventually learn how to be human.)
In short, I need to be able to move. Without shoes. Did I mention that? Shoes are frowned upon in kid classes. Because shoes have germs. Not your sniffly kid who is wiping his snot on your face and literally coughing into my open mouth (as I shout, “WATCH WHERE YOU ARE WALKING, COLIN!”). Nor from my kid who has glue in his hair. Wait, no. That is snot. Your kid’s snot. Anyway. Shoes. Shoes have germs. Shoes are evil. Take them off. And quick. Or else you get a sore virginia. I warned you.
It’s kinda hard to find clothes that eschew sloppiness while also embracing comfort. But this is my new job, and so I need to invoke a dress code. People, this is the new business casual.
It’s got everything I’m looking for. A nice roomy sweater cape to hide my tummy; flat shoes that are still stylish, but more importantly can be
kicked slipped off; a nice expensive handbag I’ll never own; and a couple of accessories I do own. The elastic waistband and the fact that I can squat like the catcher for the Yankees while wearing the leggings is an added bonus, of course.
I like to think this look says to your childless friend:
“I may have a kid. But I don’t have snot in my hair. JOKE’S ON YOU!”
…to which she might respond, “Perhaps. But at least I brushed my hair.”
Touche, bitch. Touche.