the perfect parent.

I'm the perfect parent.

In my head.

Ten years ago.

Before I had kids.

We all are, though, aren't we? That child over there, crying and screaming in the restaurant - our child would NEVER. No, our child will be the most perfect angel because we will (gently) train them how to behave in public. It's easy; why doesn't everyone just do that?

Haaaaaaaahahahahahhahahahaaaa.

What an idiot.

From the moment I held itty bitty Phineas in my arms in March 2020, everything I thought I knew evaporated.

Turns out kids don't really give a shit what you want them to do.

My imaginary kids would...

go to bed on time.

This has maybe happened twice in all the time both of my children have spent on this earth. You get home from work, eat supper, give them baths, and WHAT HOW IS IT 9PM??! If, by some miracle, you happen to get all that nonsense done at a decent time, your kids will somehow have enough energy to power a small city and will very much not be going to sleep any time soon despite your best efforts.

My imaginary kids would...

be perfectly behaved out in public.

We have never taken them both grocery shopping, and at this stage, I never plan to. Every time we go to a restaurant with them, we say to each other, "This is why we don't go to restaurants."

My imaginary kids would...

always listen to me. 

This is a good one. I'd say it takes me an average of five asks to get Phineas to do something. He will flat-out ignore me most of the time, and I do have to resort to counting a lot of the time (though I have not yet gotten to 3). Sometimes he will flat-out say "no," which I never would have DARED say to my parents so wtf am I doing wrong?! 

My imaginary kids would...

not watch screens for more than a few minutes a day.

Another good one. Turns out? You have to entertain your children. ALL THE TIME. And sometimes, to remain sane, you need a break from that. Enter: the tablet. It's ok to let the iPad parent for a bit. Phineas has learned a ton of stuff that way. HE knows everything about every brand of washing machine - just ask him. He watches Peppa Pig, so now he says little British-isms like "who will watch over us?" and "biscuits" instead of "cookies." Word to the wise, though: tread carefully on YouTube. If you're not careful, your kid will get hooked on Cocomelon or Blippi. Then you'll want to smash that tablet Office Space-style.

My imaginary kids would...

never leave the house looking unkempt.

More like "never leave the house looking kempt." 

                                                                Cute, but not kempt.

I had images of children dressed in sweet little outfits, hair brushed neatly. What I have is kids dressed in whatever sort-of matching clothes that are clean and environmentally appropriate with hair that is most certainly standing up in a weird way but is clean so we'll just call that good enough. If you tried to wet down and then comb my four-year-old's crazy morning hair, you'd understand. The screams can be heard across town.

My imaginary kids would...

keep their toys contained to their rooms.

Kids make a mess the likes of which I have never known. I'm no clean freak, but this is something else. Toys, sippy cups, tiny socks, Cheerios... their shit is EVERYWHERE. I'm tempted to throw a match and start over.

My imaginary kids would...

not prevent me from living my life.

Years ago, some friends of mine who had recently had a baby said something that has stuck with me: "the baby is joining our lives; we are not joining theirs." That was going to be my parenting mantra. We could have kids and still be ourselves. Let me tell you - that plan went up in flames, and it went up in flames FAST. No more taking off for weekend trips to the cities on a whim. No more summer road trips car-camping. No more fancy drink places. No more endless book reading for me. No more leisurely taking photographs on a spring day-trip while James hikes a trail. My life has been completely turned upside down, and it barely resembles the one I had before. Someday, we'll be a little less restricted, but right now, our kids are soon-to-be-5 and almost 18 months. We're in the trenches.

So no, I am not the perfect parent with the perfect children I imagined. Turns out no one is. Parenthood has given me a totally different perspective, though. Childless me, when hearing a baby crying on an airplane, would have been fairly annoyed. Parent me feels deeply for the parents who are currently dealing with that child - and is also quite grateful it isn't me.

So while I can't control most situations, I can control this one: my child will never be the one crying on an airplane because I will hope to not bring them on an airplane until they're old enough to fend for themselves. Problem solved!

THE outfit.

 You know when you're a kid, you have an outfit or two that you wore to death because you love it SO MUCH and you think you look SO AMAZING and how could anyone ever resist your charms?

That's what this story is about.

Those outfits.

They're not limited to when you're a kid, though. They're the outfit you know you're packing when you go on vacation. The outfit you think of instantly if you're taking family pictures. The outfit you throw on when you know you want to look good and you don't even need to think twice about it.

Let's start at the beginning.

This gem is from 1992. I loved this dress so much my mom found another one in a larger size so I could wear it even longer. I wore it everywhere - at home, at daycare, with my friends, playing Barbies, running through the woods - seriously everywhere. This is the first item of clothing I can remember completely adoring and being devastated when the (second) dress got too small and had to be retired.

I was hugely into dresses for the first several years of my academic life. As you can see, this one is far too short, but thanks to athletic shorts, it lived a little longer. The jelly shoes really tie the whole thing together.

These outfits get to share an entry as humble representatives of the puff paint sweatsuit age. I loved them - my mom would make them for me from time to time, and if I was really lucky, I'd get to add some embellishments myself. Damn, we really should resurrect these beauties.

If memory serves, my aunt and uncle in Denver bought me the shoes (FOAM PLATFORM WEDGES, BABY), and my grandma bought me the dress to go with them. I couldn't have been much older than 10. I felt like a million bucks. (Can you see my hemp necklace?!) I remember my parents not being too sure about the shoes - odds were good I was going to break my neck - but I managed with no injuries. I did have to throw them away within a few years, though, when the foam top pulled apart from the platform. A true tragedy.  

The dress. The shoes. Have you ever seen anything so Y2K? It was my go-to for any semi-special occasion for YEARS. I thought the combination of the two made me look particularly grown up. It must have been the daisies.

Whoof, enter the perm/glasses/braces stage of my life. Not easy. Anyway, I was really into white jeans at the time. That shirt was a favorite of mine, but I thought it showed (gasp) TOO MUCH CHEST - hence the white t-shirt underneath. 

And now - high school! My aunt Jan bought me that shirt and matching tank top for cousin pictures circa 2003(?), and I wore it to DEATH. I don't think I could even take it to college because I wore it so much in those last two years of high school. (It was from Maurices, if you're curious. I'm sure you were.)

Here comes a distinct shift - I started to care a good deal more about how I looked. This is the first picture in which I am wearing makeup and have purchased the item I am wearing myself. I wore that sweater all the damn time even though, as you can see, it is slightly too small and didn't zip up past my chest. (It's not like I have ever been accused of being busty - it was Hollister brand and comically tiny.)

That tank top was a constant presence in my closet for ages. I wore it with that khaki jacket. I wore it with a white cardigan. I wore it with this flowy white skirt thing. I wore it with everything. It was a baby doll cut and not flattering for anyone carrying a single extra ounce below the chest, but still, I persisted. 

Yes, it's a sweater vest. I also loved those jeans, even though they were the lowest of low rise. Low rise jeans were such a curse, even then.

Welcome to college! That grey shirt was a heavy lifter in the first couple of years. I thought I looked damn good with my v-neck bedazzled nonsense, and always that black necklace. 

I wore that skirt for everything - especially when "nice" attire as required. I bought it for next to nothing on a Target clearance rack and kept it for a solid decade. It was the best jazz dance shirt, since it poofed out nicely when twirled.

The photo on the right came first, but I wore this tank top/cardigan combination on James's and my first date. So cute. Much like my stripey skirt, it was a no-brainer when I was supposed to look "nice."

This dress is the only item of clothing I still have out of all these outfits. My mom found it at Goodwill, and it is probably the single most flattering thing I have ever owned. Brown is generally not my go-to color, but when it comes to this dress, I'm all in.

Now we're as close to up to speed as we can be. This is the most recent outfit I can think of - my coral lacy shirt that I wore absolutely everywhere and all the time. I wore this to my 10-year high school reunion, which is the biggest deal ever. Tragically, it doesn't fit any more (damn kids), but if it did, you'd better believe I'd be wearing it to my 20-year reunion this summer. It was just that great.

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I've had dozens more of those outfits throughout the years, but somehow, I haven't had one for a good ten years. I know I haven't had one since I've had kids. Is it something that fades away as you get older, or is that just something that happened to me? Or my body image? I do think I kind of look like shit most of the time, whereas these outfits all made me feel like DAMN I LOOK GOOD. 

Well, whatever happened, it sucks. I want my arsenal of good outfits back. Especially if they're puff painted sweat suits.