I remember when I was little my Mom would buy me these horrible outfits for me to wear to school. The most awful of which were saved for school pictures, only to have them permanently encased in time as a reminder of what a dork I was. I’m sure she didn’t realize it at the time (or maybe she did, but just didn’t care), but even at 5-years-old, I did give a hoot about what I wore. After a conversation that began with a simple request to my Mom to stop by Target on the way home from work to pickup a dress for Reese, it got me thinking:
I wonder if somewhere down the road Reese will feel the same way about the clothes I pick out for her as I did about the clothes my Mom picked out for me?
The conversation was all via email and went something like this:
Me: I found the cutest dress at Target on my lunch break, but they didn’t have it in Reese’s size. Could you stop by the one by your work and pick it up for me on your way home?
::this request was followed by a picture of the sweater dress I picked out::
Mom: I could pick it up tomorrow, but that dress is butt ugly.
Me: I think it's cute! You really think it's ugly? It looks just like those sweaters you wear...except it's a dress.
Mom: I haven’t worn a sweater like that in years – and yes – it’s just about the ugliest baby dress I’ve ever seen.
Me: It would look cute with sassy baby leggings.
Mom: And a coat over the top…
Me: ::inserts photo of pink argyle baby legs::
Mom: Now you’re going to make the kid wear argyle socks – Do you have a fever?
My, how tastes have changed. Part of me hopes my daughter doesn’t grow up to slightly resent me for the clothing I put her in. And if she does…oh well. I think it’s a motherly right of passage to be able to embarrass your child within reason.