I have never been terribly concerned with clothes where my children are concerned. I mean, I make sure that they have enough of them, and wear them as appropriate for the weather and, to a lesser degree, the occasion. But as much fun as it would be, we just don't have the time or energy -- let alone the money -- to dress Elsa and Clio super-adorably.
Their wardrobe consists of a motley combination of gifts from grandparents and others, hand-me-downs from friends, things that I buy for them second-hand at tag sales, and a few supplemental store-bought items as needed, generally from Target or Marshall's. The dresses in the closet go largely unworn. Anything that requires ironing or hand-washing is pretty much never worn -- at least, not more than once.
As the girls outgrow clothes, I toss them into a shopping bag in the closet and periodically bring them up to the attic, where I transfer them into other bags and boxes, which I intend to sort through any day now, I swear. Meanwhile, the girls share one big dresser, which I am convinced is haunted by some small, slovenly poltergeist that gets its kicks by unfolding everything we've just folded and pulling dirty clothes out of the hamper to mix in with the clean ones. In short, I never feel quite in control of the clothing situation. But it's never been high on my list of worries in life.
Of course, I do enjoy getting the gals into a cute outfit now and then, if I can swing it. (i.e. if one of them is not throwing a fit while I'm trying to dress the other one, and if a good combination of shirt / pants / sweater / etc. all happen to be clean at the same time.) And I do occasionally feel a pang of jealousy and inferiority when I see little girls in cute-meets-funky ensembles made up of clothes that look like they came from boutiques or, at the very least, high-end consignment shops. (Just as I occasionally feel pangs of jealousy and inferiority when I see women looking similarly stylish and cool.)
But most of the time I could care less. What's the point of making your kid look like they stepped out of a Hannah Anderson catalog if their clothes are going to be spattered with yogurt within an hour of their getting dressed? And what's the point of spending fifty bucks on an outfit that they'll only fit into for six months?
Of course, four days out of the week, it's their dad who dresses them, and his sartorial standards are even lower than mine. Some days I come home from work to find the girls looking like he dressed them in the dark. Cute pink flowered pants and a grungy red t-shirt with writing on it. Jeans and a pajama top. Brown with purple. Stripes with dots. Granted, the man is fairly color blind. But mostly, he just doesn't notice or care. Which is fine. Really, it is.
Except that the girls are about to start preschool. And in the spirit of the back-to-school season (remember how important it was to figure out what you'd wear on the first day of school?) I'm feeling the urge to get a bit more on top of the girls' clothing situation. I'm going to a huge kids' tag sale tomorrow morning, and am hoping to score some cute stuff. Maybe I'll even spring for some of the big ticket items -- you know, things that cost more than two dollars. And maybe I'll start laying their clothes out the night before on school nights.
Of course, all of this begs the question, "Why?" Am I succumbing to some subtle societal pressure to make sure that my children look well-dressed and are not perceived as ragamuffins by their teachers and the other parents? Yeah, there's probably some of that. (I remember my mother's dismay on one occasion when I wore the same dress two days in a row while she was away and my dad was in charge). But I also think it's just the whole notion of them going to school. There's some part of me -- and maybe it's a little old fashioned -- that believes you should look a little nicer for school than you would for hanging around the house. (Aren't my girls going to adore me when they're teenagers?) Who's with me?
