Mommin' It Up since 2004!
If you are in the Dayton area, make plans to check out our friend Erin’s workshop! She’s the genius behind 5 Dollar Dinners and she’s going to teach you how to plan and make frugal, healthy meals for your family! The workshop is March 21st and you can get all the details and sign up at her blog here. Oh, and it only costs FIVE DOLLARS (of course!!)
Saturday night, I took the kids shopping for Easter clothes.
And I pined for the days when Kate sat complacently in her stroller, eating Cheerios and not giving me any lip about the clothes I picked out for her.
But I digress.
I could not – could not – believe some of the dresses I was seeing. In the little girls section. Of Macy’s! It’s not like we were in Forever 8 or anything. (That’s me trying to be clever, like Forever 21. Get it? No? Ok, anyway…)
Even Macy’s must be ashamed of themselves, though, because they don’t have any of the questionable dresses that grace their store on their website. So I’ve spent the better part of the evening trying to find pictures to prove my point.
(I won’t tell you about the google searches I’ve performed during this quest for fear that other weirdos with similar searches will wind up on Mommin’ It Up, but I’m hoping this post will be proof enough that I had a good reason for searching those terms when the authorities come a callin’.)
In any case, I present to you example one. Note that this dress is available in sizes 4-6x, perfect for the preschool crowd.
Isn’t that lovely? Because, you know, every little girl needs some black lace.
And how about this one?
Perfect for Easter Sunday… or Dancing with the Stars.
And this… this one is my personal favorite. Again, available in sizes 4-6x.
Really, these dresses aren’t even as bad as the ones I saw the other night, but they were the best examples I could find without going to jail online.
Call me a prude, but five- and six-year-old girls should not be sexy!
Quite honestly, Kate was eyeing some of the very dresses that made my skin crawl – they were pink and sparkly and sequin-y and appealing to her. I was quick to say HELL NO no, but obviously someone’s buying them or they wouldn’t be hanging on the racks.
It seems a great disservice to our daughters to allow them to be sexualized at such a young age.
Between the images in the window of Fredrick’s of Hollywood that we couldn’t miss as we walked into the Stride Rite next door, the pelvic bones of the boys on the signs for Abercrombie and Fitch, and the dresses in the little freaking girls’ section, I felt like I should have blindfolded my kids just to walk through the mall.
So here’s what Kate will be wearing on Easter, and Christmas. And prom.
Of course, I am making a joke in very poor taste kidding.
Here’s the dress I picked for Kate to wear on Easter.
Isn’t that gorgeous? I just love it.
Unfortunately, Kate did not. (see pining for pre-conversational days above).
We did, however, settle on this one, which is also quite pretty (and much prettier in real life!).
So, um, happy Easter shopping to the rest of you. And don’t forget your blindfolds.
I’ve been staring at the red light for what seems like an eternity. It’s 9:20 p.m. and I’m tired. Every second that the light doesn’t change, I feel the energy draining from my body. It’s as if the light is feeding off of me, like it’ll stay red until I fall asleep at the wheel. I tighten my grip and run my fingers through my hair. I let it air-dry today and it’s wavy. I twirl it to pass the time, once, twice, and then – green! Finally! I step on the gas and make a left towards home.
I cross over the train tracks, not slowing quite enough so there’s a nice “tha-dunk-thunk” and a bounce but I don’t care. At the next light I take a soft right onto my street. I live in the city but this end of it is quiet, dark. Two cars are parked on the right, people inside, lights on inside. I wonder what they’re doing but I don’t pause to try and find out.
Two blocks more and I’m at the main intersection of my neighborhood. Another red light. The number 23 city bus zooms by me, all lit up. I can see one or two passengers on the inside, and I’m thankful to have my own car and be almost home. Across the intersection the number 7 bus waits at the red light as well. I live in the city but I’m not brave enough to ride the bus at night. Or, who am I kidding, during the day.
It’s green and I’m off again, only six blocks to home. Past the pawn shop and the Ace Hardware and the shop where I get my pants hemmed. I zoom past the creepy convenience store I call Apu’s (from the Simpson’s. It’s funny. SUE ME.) and see a woman walking wearily, slowly out with two full bags. I hope she doesn’t have far to go.
Two more blocks, there’s no one in front of me and I sail along, check the rear view, and there’s no one behind, just me, so I don’t have to worry about making anyone mad when I slow to pull in my driveway. It’s a relief to see my house lit up as I maneuver the car into its resting place. The two dark evergreens in my yard loom large and provide cover as I unload the groceries.
Wearily I make my way to the porch with as many plastic grocery bags wound around my wrists as I can handle. I climb the porch steps, excitedly, expectantly, and slide my key into the lock. Click, turn, push, and the door swings open, my husband smiles, and my son shouts, “Mama!” I feel some of the weariness lift off of my shoulders.
It’s good to be home.
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Photo by Erik Mallinson on Flickr