Last Night's Clothes

I'm starting to take after my five-year-old.

When it comes to enjoying the little things in life, like blowing dandelion fluff onto the neighbor's lawn or eating chocolate chip cookie dough, this can be a good thing. Life-affirming, even. However, when I'm taking fashion and personal hygiene cues from someone who still picks her nose, there's probably something wrong.

I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes, and I feel no need to change. It's all her fault.

This re-wearing of clothes is a slippery slope. Where do you draw the line? It's okay to wear jeans two or three times before washing them, right? Why not a shirt? Why not a dress? Nai's love of certain outfits, coupled with her laziness, started the Clean Panties, Clean Socks rule. It started out this way: if she changed into clean socks and panties, she could wear the same outfit two days in a row. She still changed into her pajamas at night, of course, so she wasn't sleeping in her clothes or anything. Then... I let her start sleeping in her clothes. Then... the two days sometimes turned into three days. Then... the clean panties and socks sometimes got forgotten.

I am a horrible, horrible mother.

Still, it's not like I'm totally neglectful. I comb her hair at least every other day. I make her brush her teeth morning and night. And since she chomps her fingernails down to nubs I don't have to worry about dirt gathering there. So, other than yesterday's grape juice stains down her front and dirty-kneed jeans, she doesn't look too bad. Besides, this way we're really doing our part for the environment. I think we've cut down on our laundering by half. How can this be a bad thing? I have more free time, we're saving money on our water bill, and I feel a little greener.

Just when I'm feeling not so bad about it, I see the pretty mother down the street walk past with her little girls. Her bouncing hair shines with perfect highlights. She's wearing a cream fisherman's sweater, skinny jeans, and brown suede boots. Her little girls are all clean bright stripes, pigtails, and freshly scrubbed pink cheeks. They look like a glossy Ralph Lauren spread. I tackle Nai, who feels a little sticky, and pull her away from the window. Now if they look up there's nothing to see but a collage of greasy handprints on the glass. I look at her, in her rumpled, slept-in clothes and bed-head hair. Then I look down at me.

I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes, and yes, I slept in them too. Wearing Friday night's clothes on Saturday morning is cute when you're twenty-four and sneaking out of your boyfriend's apartment wearing a cocktail dress with your strappy heels in hand and panties in your pocket. It's not so adorable when yesterday's clothes consist of two mismatched t-shirts and sweatpants.

<----- The offending outfit.

Bonus information: I'm eating last night's pizza, too. At least I put it in the fridge between meals, though.

New pledge: I will change my clothes every day. I will make my daughter change her clothes daily, too. I will look like a marshmallow topping two sausages if I wear a chunky sweater over skinny jeans, but at least I will look like a clean marshmallow. Till I spill coffee on my sweater, anyway.

I'm going to change right now. Well, as soon as I finish this pizza.