So the overwhelming majority of people do not like the maxi dress. Some of the comments made me laugh and honestly I never thought of it as being the equivalent of the “mom jeans.” But even after reading all of the comments, I am still torn.
What about other fashion choices?
For years and years and years I have sworn off shorts. Probably close to 10 years. I just really don’t think that they are flattering. AT ALL. In fact, when I see women wearing them I almost always think that they would look better in something else. Like a skirt.
However, since I have moved to Texas I have bought shorts and not only that I wear them all the time. Out in public even. And yes, I realize that I too would look better in something other than shorts. It is just that now, at 40 years old, I don’t really care anymore.
I am pretty tired of capri pants. They scream suburban housewife like no other piece of clothing that I can think of.
Oh wait, I can think of something else. Baseball caps where the mother has her hair in a ponytail pulled out through the hole in the back of the hat. I hate that look. It makes the baby Jesus cry.
So now I bring you to the dress I wore yesterday. It is like the opposite of the maxi dress. It is too short, too low cut, and too tight to be flattering on anyone other than a 13 year old. I wear it around the neighborhood, going to the pool, hanging out in my yard, etc. Apparently I do not care what I look like while handing Popsicles out the neighborhood kids.
It shows off my sternum nicely.
The photo is blurry because I had my 8yr old son take the picture last night and he was too tired to hold the camera steady. Wah wah wah. Except then I looked at the clock and realized it was midnight. We had not arrived home from my oldest son’s baseball practice until 10:00pm last night. And then we had dinner and were relaxing.
And just after that realization I had a second one. I had just texted Mir with some inane comment and was wondering why she hadn’t texted me back. Um, it could be because it was 1:00am east coast time and other people do things like sleep. Something my entire family shuns.
You should be happy I don’t have your phone number.
Today I bought a maxi dress. Which, every time I say it, reminds me of maxi pad. And then I giggle like a 12 year old boy.
I brought it home and tried it on. My children loved it, especially my daughter. I am not sure what it says about me that my litmus test for fashionable is a 6 yr old.
Me: maxi dress: yes or no?
Susan: Yes!
Me: I feel very covered up like I am amish
Susan: hahaha
Me: only with cleavage
Me: you know, if I had some
Susan: amish cleavage
isn’t that against the law?
Me: otherwise known as my sternum
Me: i wish i had bigger boobs, just for my dress.
Susan: you can buy those you know
Me: the top of the dress is slightly padded
Me: poor woman’s boob job
Susan: Where will you wear it?
Me: …
***
Edited to add:
I am torn on the maxi dress. I do like the way they look. My neighbor wears them all the time I think she looks great. But when I have it on I have this inexplicable urge to grow my armpit hair and listen to the Grateful Dead. And I am not sure that is quite the look I am going for.
We have a globe that you touch with a stylus and it gives you little facts about places all over the world. Miles has been slightly obsessed with the globe lately and spits out bits of trivia at completely random times, complete with the inflection of the computerized voice. Last night we were snuggling together on the comfy chair before bedtime, he reached up and lovingly stroked my cheek before spitting out this fun fact.
It makes me laugh every time.
(Translation: Mauna Loa is a volcano on the island of Hawaii)
Today I was sitting outside in my driveway, on the bumper of my van if you must know. Yes, I am so Klassy. My 14 yr old son was talking to me when he suddenly pointed to the roof of the van and yelled, “OMG, there is a strange bird up there! One of those talking ones!”
I said, “Yeah, right.”
He continued on, “No really, Mom. There is a little colorful bird on the top of the van!”
“Yeah, right.”
I should back up here and say that this particular son loves practical jokes. He is constantly doing things like this. So I refused to get up and look.
A neighbor boy rode up on his bicycle and shouted, “Whoa, that is not a regular bird!”
We then had a discussion about the boy who cried wolf.
Turns out it is a little lovebird, not a talking parrot. Someones little pet bird. Oddly enough none of us know of any neighbors in the immediate vicinity that have a bird and this bird has clipped wings and can’t really fly very far.
Within minutes half the neighborhood children were in our driveway devising ways to catch the bird.
One boy ran home and grabbed a bird cage he had in his garage. Who has a spare bird cage in their garage you might ask yourself. A child who has had two pet birds in the past year meet unfortuante ends.
The children set the cage near the bird and stood back quietly. And by quietly I mean they yelled at each other to be quiet at the top of their lungs. Eventually the bird flew into the cage, lured by the half eaten bird seed treats still hanging inside.
It was decided that they needed to make posters to hang around the neighborhood. I brought out the paper and markers and they set to work.
Notice the bandana that my 10 yr old son is wearing on his head. The little girl sitting next to him took it off of her head and gave it to him to wear. Which is sweet and all, except that the style screams girl. In case you didn’t notice the embroidery and rhinestones.
The poster making went on for quite some time. Discussions over who drew the better more life like bird. Who had neater handwriting. There were hearty disagreements over whose phone number should be on the poster. I voted for NOT MINE.
And then the big one. Where was the bird going to live?
And since the phone number was NOT MINE, I thought it was only fair that the bird go and live at the house of the phone number we put on the posters. Also, NOT MINE.
The boy with the cage carried it back across the cul-de-sac to his house. Then he tripped and dropped the cage a few short steps from his front door. The bird flew out up onto the roof.
We all stood there with our mouths agape. I was going to ask if this is how he lost his last two birds, but that seemed slightly insensitive.
My five year old neighbor came over to me and said, “Great. Now we have to redo all of our posters to say LOST bird.”
So this weekend was the closing ceremonies for baseball. A long drawn out affair in the hot blazing sun. But the season is over. And not a moment too soon.
And, as always, there was drama. My 8 yr old son’s team got second place. Not first place like they had been expecting. I can’t even get into the long drawn out controversy and resulting parent drama, except to remind people that these are 7 and 8 yr old boys and everyone really needs to get a grip.
There is one family that sent out a heartfelt email expressing how sad they were that their son was not chosen for an All-Star team. I feel bad for them. Their son should have made the team. Objectively speaking my son should have made the team also. But at this age All-Stars is more about the fathers than the boys, and frankly I was ready for him to be done playing this season.
My 13 yr old son is playing on an All Star team and my oldest is playing on two teams, so we have plenty of baseball. Plenty.
Having kids at all ends of the spectrum gives me a perspective that I think other parents are not lucky enough to have. I have said it to so many parents, including the authors of the heartfelt email, but it bears repeating that by the time your child gets to be 13 or 14, most of the bullshit falls by the wayside. Fake stat keeping is not so easy to do anymore. Parents no longer coach. By the time you reach highschool you can either play well or you can’t. And your parents can’t really do a thing about it.
The 4yr old teams all got medals for participating. I like to think that they are prizes just for being so darn cute. I am going to need to put an addition on to the house to hold all the trophies soon. Which might be weird since we don’t actually own this house. But whatever.
Now there is more time for things like running through the neighbor’s sprinkler. The funniest thing is that a couple of neighbors have the timers on their sprinklers set for dusk. As soon as they turn on all the kids run over to their yards and run through them. It is like the children can not help themselves. They are drawn to the water like moths to a light.
