So, I have been working really hard on not over posting every minute detail on my Facebook account. Mostly, I post a lot of pictures for my family, and no, not all of them live here, or can receive picture text. Therefore, I am stuck posting to FB. A lot. Often. So, while there is a trend lately in only posting political, or sporadically, that is not my style. If I do something, I do it. Like 1,001%. So, Facebook is never spared of the latest underwear clad son doing a spontaneous jig, or 74 pictures of a new hairdo I have invented/tried, or a tirade on injustice that I just can't let wait for a blog post. From crafts to family outings, I have tried to keep it simple. (Really, I AM trying.) However, tonight, I broke my own new set of compulsive-less rules. I posted about all the poor fashion choices that were made in my house by someone other than me tonight.
I told Charlie that the color of the day clothing assignments are ending tomorrow, with directions to "wear you favorite color." He came back in to show me what he picked out. A very nice colored, knit, deep red polo shirt. And he paired that nice polo with a pair of bright red work out shorts with a racing stripe up the outside of the thigh. Great. The first thing I thought of was, "Dang it. I am going into school early with both kids at my side to help sell the PTA fundraiser as the kids get off the school bus, and besides seeing me, always a stellar example of a frumpy housewife from the country, now they will see Chaz dressed like I really have no ability to dress anyone. Then, comes Shay. I walk into her room to see what she has pulled out. Normally, she is what she calls "stylish." Sadly, it appears that our "stylish" has left the building, and now, a loud, striped tank top will be paired with a brightly colored, yet patterned pair of Capri pants.
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| Shay's ensemble. Photograph © Erin Ahrens 20120 |
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With confidence like this, guess clothes really DON'T make the man. This nugget is framed, and "hanging" in Chaz's room. One day, he will thank me for only keeping the best from his preschool years. No joke. It is the only thing I have from preschool for him. Photograph © Erin Ahrens 2012
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Yes, this is his new favorite color. Which means, he no longer loves pink. Think baby steps peeps.
Photograph© Erin Ahrens 2012 |
I have a feeling the PTA will be doing a fundraiser for our family by the end of the semester. Instead of "Duck for a Buck," they will call it, "Fashion for Frumpy." Instead of donating a dollar to receive a little plastic rubber ducky, they will donate money to save for a make over. (I swear, when I worked at the urgent care, I had a coworker, or MANY, suggest that "wouldn't it be fun to have a makeover show come and work on Erin?") It was often enough that I paid attention and on occasion, would throw them by ironing my scrubs. I think it worked. The overly excited fashionistas never came around. I did cut my ass length hair (yeah, that's now being used as an adjective) to my shoulders right before Shay was born. Chick was four weeks late, so I had to do something with my time. So, I donated to Locks of Love. And no, technically, the OB tried to tell me she was born on her due date, but if your first child is four weeks early, every day past that mark seems "late."
I will dress in a smart little diddy I will refer to as "Mom jeans and a sweater." Ohhhh, ahhh... get the run way ready folks! I might accessorize that with a pony tail, and my phone sticking out of the v-neck in my sports bra. And when I say "might," just expect it. Don't judge. I have problems.
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