Once upon a time, I cared about clothes. And I think that I will again. But most of the time right now, not so much. Especially when almost everything does not fit anymore.
Take Monday, for example. I woke up to more snow and was a little worried. Garry was at work and Macey had to be to Pre-K in a few hours and that meant I would have to shovel a little bit (Garry did a lot before he went to work at 0-too-early but the snowplows had created a drift right at the end of my driveway). And, oh ya, I'm pregnant. . .
And I'm pregnant with bad feet. No, really, I have bad feet. I have had a toe that has been infected since August and literally bleeds or oozes all day. So I usually wear comfy socks until I absolutely have to put a real shoe on.
And that's what I did on this morning! I wore comfy socks and just slipped on some crocs to go conquer the snow. I came inside and Macey looked at my feet.
"Mama," she said, "Why are you wearing crocs? Why are you wearing socks with crocs?" Okay, she had a point -- it was pretty hideous -- but should I have to take this abuse from a four-year-old?
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