We’ve all heard many times that how we dress more often than not will reflect how we feel, act, perform etc. I’ve tried to explain this concept to my teenagers—as they slink off to school in sweats with holes in them—and I’ve certainly felt it myself lately, as I spend these last few weeks of pregnancy wandering around in mumu-type attire. I look dowdy, therefore I feel dowdy. Oh how I can’t wait to wear jeans with a zipper again! But that’s a whole other subject.
This morning the “how we dress is how we feel and act” concept really hit home with an incident involving my two youngest daughters. This week is spirit week at their charter school—a wonderful and timely break from the ususal uniform dress code—and today is pajama day. Unfortunately, neither of my daughters currently have a stellar selection of pajamas. My seventh grader took this in stride, borrowing a pair of her brother’s plaid pajama pants and pinning them so they wouldn’t fall off her narrow hips (sure hoping that pin stays in place today!), but my third grader was beside herself this morning, concerned over her year-or-two old fleece poodle pajamas that were clearly several inches too short.
After examining them, I told her I could let out the hem, so at 7:30 this morning, I was frantically unpicking stitches, hoping that extra inch might make her feel a little better. But it didn’t take long for me to remember that fleece and unpicking don’t go well together. At the least I was going to end up with a hole or two–probably making my daughter’s angst worse. When I broke the news to her that she’d just have to wear the PJ’s short, she had near tears in her eyes and said, “Please Mom, can I have new pajamas for Christmas this year?”
I assured her that, yes, she could (as I knew a pair were already under the tree), and then it occured to me that I should simply give them to her early—as in this morning. Now lest you get the impression we’re impoverished, let me assure you we’re not. But we are frugal, and we simply don’t buy things for our children at any other times except for Christmas and their birthdays. And even then gifts often tend to run on the practical side. Along with a few treats, they know their stockings will also have tubes of toothpaste, shampoo, and a new pack of socks in them. This is how they’ve grown up, so we’ve never really had any complaining. And my daughter wasn’t complaining this morning, but I could tell how much the too-short PJ’s were affecting her. And so on a spur of the moment whim, I told her to go look in the very back of the tree for a red American Girl bag.
Her eyes got big when I said this, and I could see the wheels turning in her mind American Girl? My mom got me something from American Girl? And I get to open it now?!Her older sister helped her locate the package, and with great delight I watched as Hannah tore into it and discovered the pink, silky polka dot pajamas she’s wanted for at least a few Christmases now. It was with great debate that I’d ordered these a few weeks back, as the products in that catalog are so out of our budget. But I’d happened to have a $10.00 off coupon, and I’d rationalized the purchase (that still ate up 1/3 of my $100. per child Christmas allowance)because Hannah is my last little girl, and there won’t be too many more Christmases when she wants little girl things. In about two seconds this morning, I realized I’d made the right decision—both in the splurge and in letting her open them early.
“Oh, Mom,” she first exclaimed. Then, “They’re exactly the one’s I wanted.” Shock in her voice. “They’re beautiful. They’re perfect. I love them.” And on and on her gushing went. It was one of those parent moments we savor, and I was truly loving it—other than feeling guilty my husband wasn’t home to enjoy it too.
On went the new pajamas, and there was much twirling in front of the mirror. Hair was curled, the bunny slippers (also a couple of years old, but still in good shape) were located and declared a perfect match. Hannah couldn’t stop exclaiming over how soft and pretty the fabric was. In a matter of a few minutes, I’d watched my daughter go from near despair to complete joy—all because of a pair of pajamas.
As I curled her hair, I brought her back down to earth again, reminding her that it was Thursday, the day of the spelling pretest. All year she has struggled with spelling, though it is her sincerest desire to do as well as her peers. One of her most fervent wishes is to get one hundred percent on Thursday, so she won’t have to retake the test Friday. Thus far, she hasn’t even come close. But this morning, as I quizzed her on words, she rattled them all off–as if she’d been spelling them for years.
“Hannah,” I said, when we’d gone through the whole list. “You just got them all right. You can get 100% today!” There was more joy on her face, as she realized her accomplishment.
“I can, can’t I?” She was thrilled with this realization, and ran out to her carpool confident and excited to go to school in those beautiful pajamas and to do her best in spelling. From here on out, I will remember this morning fondly as the morning of the wonderful pink, silky pajamas. Pure magic.
Throughout all of this emotion, my seventh grader had also enjoyed her sister’s happiness, but I wanted to give Alyssa some of her own as well. The previous night my husband and I had already discussed giving her one of her presents early—before she attends her first ever dance tomorrow. She’s been dreading this dance, as “boys are gross” (yay for her, I say. Just keep thinking that until you’re twenty-five), but her friend on the student council has persuaded her to come. As the dance is “best dress” this brought up a whole other problem—Alyssa’s best dress wardrobe being not a whole lot better than her pajama selection.
So this morning, following the great pajama incident, I let her open one of her presents as well, a darling ice-blue twin set she can wear with either of her two practical skirts—white or black. It was another score. She loved it, exclaimed over it, and suddenly couldn’t wait to get dressed up and attend the dance tomorrow. Feeling pretty at your first dance is so important. And she is pretty, even in her brother’s pinned up PJ’s today, but sometimes a girl just needs a little something to make them feel special. I’m betting that new outfit will do just that tomorrow, and she’ll have a confident smile on her face as she heads to the school gym, for a winter wonderland dance with all those gross boys.