“Look at mommy’s fancy new gown! Such a pretty dress with special high heels to match. Tonight I’ll be meeting all sorts of fancy people in my new sophisticated clothes!”
Like most moms, I narrate pretty much everything I do. This of course exposes Rose to as many words as possible and keeps her engaged in activities that aren’t centered around her. It also apparently provides an outlet for some latent-mom-psychosis.
You see, when I was getting dressed and narrating for little Rose, they were not fancy duds I was putting on. Nope. They were my same old lululemon pants, t-shirt and sneakers that I always wear. And I wasn’t heading out to meet with anyone, just downstairs for dinner with my husband.
No gown here these days. But I guess sitting in my closet with some of those more interesting outfits staring back at me as I put on the same mom-active-wear struck a nerve. A twisted nerve.
Like most moms, I used to wear fancy clothes and have places to go (and it actually wasn’t the grocery store). I have the high heels to prove it, they are collecting dust right next to my silk scarves and dangling earrings. I figure they’ll get some play some time after 2020. (It only now occurs to me, upon writing this, that the Italian patent leather heels I invested in will spend their best years in Rose’s costume box)
We live the glorious New England suburban dream and have the John Deere tractor to prove it. We spend our Saturday evenings together at home, trying to stay up past 10 and nervously watching the baby monitor. We eat out about once a month. And when we hang out with friends, jeans and a statement necklace are as “done up” as you can get before becoming obnoxious.
So I guess a few of my nicer clothes will have a chance to venture off the shelf for the next wedding or holiday party? Until then, I’ll let my imagination be my accessories as I ‘dress for dinner’.
And let’s be honest, wouldn’t your rather spend the day wearing Toms instead of heels?