Wardrobe FAIL

Today was picture day at Daughter's preschool. I forgot.

She wanted desperately to wear a little summer sundress to school (it was 38 degrees out when we woke up this morning). It is a sweet little teal dress with a royal blue ruffle at the hem. It's made of soft t-shirt cotton. It has spaghetti straps. I tried to convince her that this was not the dress for today -- not because it wasn't right for school pictures, mind you, but just because I didn't want her to freeze to death on the playground. She, in the way that only three-year-olds can be, was adamant.

Finally I resigned, pulled out her bright pink tights that have royal blue stripes interspersed with purple-and-blue butterflies, added a pale turquoise turtleneck, and then put the sundress over the whole. Strangely, the outfit looked harmonious enough, especially with the addition of a turquoise barrette in her hair.

She skipped happily into school, nominally dressed in a sundress, but really wearing summer clothes in the way that only children in winter climates can: as one layer in a much warmer outfit.

I, of course, was confronted by the giant "School Picture Day" posters as soon as we walked in the front door. Groaning inwardly, I realized that she will be there in her teal, royal blue and bright pink outfit, posing amongst artfully arranged piles of red and orange autumnal leaves. In short, if ever there were a day to wish that no one had invented that fancy new-fangled process for making pictures in color, today would be that day.

And in other news, I would like to provide the following PSA: when you buy maternity tights (yes, brands that you buy in regular tights make them) and they are not labeled as such on the label that's in the seam, and you curse the fact that they are not labeled because they get mixed up with your regular tights, and then there you are, eight months pregnant, at work for 10 hours, wearing NON-maternity tights that look just like your maternity tights but feel like a tourniquet or a boa constrictor around your middle, it would be in your best interest not merely to separate the maternity tights out and keep them in a different drawer, but actually to label the darn things with a Sharpie "M" or something.

Because if you don't, the day will come when you go to work distinctly not at all pregnant, and realize on the long trek to the building from your car that the like-new, inky black, totally-forgot- you-owned-these tights which you discovered this morning and put on in happy realization that it was time to break out the warmer clothes are in fact maternity tights.

And they will slide right off your body all. day. long.