I grew up with 12 years of Catholic school education. That meant 12 years of living in a uniform. It was heaven. I grew up not worrying about what I was wearing each and every morning. I woke up, ate a sleepy breakfast, pulled on my white Peter Pan collar blouse and herringbone jumper/skirt, knee-high blue (or green, in High School) socks and brown loafers and I was off. No fuss, no muss, no “Moooommmmmmmeeeee, where are my black boots?” It was quick and painless and let me get on with my important life.
Now, my two daughters (aged 6 and 3) are another matter. Every morning, I am faced with a certain amount of Mommy stress when it comes to getting their daily attire together. They both LOVE to wear skirts. I have to campaign up and down and back again on the days when I want them to wear pants. I’ve managed (by the grace of God, I believe) to convince them that “Gym Day” or “PE Day” or “Sports Day” REQUIRES pants, because you cannot swing from monkey bars or charge through a game of touch football (effectively, anyway) in a skirt. And luckily (by the grace of God, again) they both have “Sports/Gym/PE” on the same day. So, I catch a break on Fridays and don’t have to fight the battle of “Well, SHE’S wearing a skirt, why can’t I?” On Fridays, I can slap down two pairs of black leggings, t-shirts and fleece hoodies and be done with it. The girls must wrangle their own socks and gym shoes. TGIF, indeed!
As for me, I’ve never given up my uniform style. On any given day, you are sure to find me in MY black leggings, t-shirt and fleece hoody (or, as I called it “in my day,” a sweatshirt with hood). Ah, serenity! Sure, I dress up and get all “Red Carpet Fabulous” [check it out…]
for the Emmy Awards and other professional events, but I swear to goodness, give me back my uniform every other day of the week.
And, by the way, I’m not stuck in a rut, I’m streamlining. Hey, I’m a composer who doesn’t like to be categorized, but I like to put the easy life-stuff into quantified cubbies so that the good-n-weird stuff that really belongs occupying my brain space has room to wiggle around.
And, don’t you know, here’s some of that weird stuff…