Today I posted a status update on my Facebook page that said this:
“I am SO sick of dressing every morning to drop my son off at preschool. I am just waiting for one other mom to break this imaginary dress code and bust out in her Old Navy pajama bottoms!”
And then I dutifully changed out of my pajama pants, put on a pair of workout pants, because everybody knows that workout pants are like Manhattan and pajama pants are Brooklyn in the world of pants without zippers, pulled on a hoodie, fixed my hair, snatched my flip flops and walked out the door. I do this almost every morning that I take my son to school, and every day I secretly hope to see some mom who has decided to break our self imposed “no pajama pants” dress code.
I have to admit, if I was just driving my son to school and not having to park my car and hoof what feels like half a mile with a baby on my hip to his classroom, I would definitely wear my pajama pants. But since I do have to hoof that imaginary half mile with my baby on my hip and a five year old wrestling a backpack while holding my hand, I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it in my pajama bottoms.
Up until this morning, I wasn’t sure why I had never taken the plunge and rocked my Old Navy’s like they were a fabulous pair of designer jeans. Maybe it has to do with my age? Wearing pajamas my freshman year of college to class or the grocery store seemed cute then, but I don’t know if I would categorize this get up as cute now.
In any event, I came home to find my little update had over 20 comments, and all but one were from other mothers who were either in the closet pajama pants dreamers like me or out and proud pajama pants wearers. I was kind of blown away. One woman said that she thinks the exact thing every morning. Several other women asked why I didn’t just get the gonads to go and do it. And the out and proud moms were talking about how freaking fantastic it was to wear their pajama pants all over the place without a care in the world about what the other mothers with their panties in a bunch might think.
But there was one mother who pointed out that she dresses herself every morning to set an example of respect for her children. She wrote about how wearing pajama pants out and about sends a terrible message to the world and to our children. And immediately, I thought why the french toast do we care so freaking much about pants? Just last week I read an article about how teachers should never wear jeans because blah, blah, blah kids don’t respect teachers who wear jeans, and now here I was again with the whole “pants=respect” scenario.
And I can’t help but think, WHY THE HELL DO WE EXPECT SO MUCH FROM OUR PANTS! They are P-A-N-T-S! They are designed to cover beavers or twigs and berries. They have a life span of a few years at best. We drop food on them. We wipe our hands off on them when we can’t find a towel or napkin. For God’s sake, we fart in them! And yet, I keep hearing how these fart catching, beaver containers are suppose to gain me enough respect to manage a room of small children and who know’s maybe even get me a seat in congress.
And while I wasn’t annoyed at this comment, because everybody has an opinion and if I didn’t want to read other people’s opinions I probably should have never created a Facebook page, I found myself feeling the need to defend my pant choice. So I wrote out the laundry list of activities that require my time, body and mental acuity which thus prevent me from wanting to wear real pants when I take my child to school. And, yes, after re-reading that last sentence I have fully realized how stupid this conversation has become.
So I felt good. There were tons of reasons why I didn’t have time to wear real pants. I am in my last semester of graduate school which alone should give me a pass from having to wear underwear, but because I keep it classy I still opt for some form of pants. I have two young children. I maintain this website, am working on building a new one and I help manage another. And I do a lot of other stuff too, damnit!
But then I was met with a reply that basically said if I was so good at multitasking, I should be able to change pants…because after all, they are just pants. And as much as I would have liked to simply say, “Thanks for the suggestion. Smiley Face. XOXO,” I was too pissed to. And I wasn’t actually pissed off at the person who wrote it, but more so at this idea that my entire self worth, as perceived by the world at large, boiled down to what I chose to cover my ass with.
But truth be told, they are just pants. But here is the thing, changing pants isn’t always so freaking easy. This is going to sound very stupid and ridiculous to somebody who has never experienced this, and so if you haven’t just roll your eyes and go find something else to read.
1. If I change my pants, I have to change my shirt.
2. If I change my shirt, then this means that I have committed to trying to look like I have got my shit together; so I need a pair of “I got my shit together shoes.”
3. If I am wearing my “I got my shit together shoes,” then I need to do my hair…because everybody knows you don’t have your shit together if your hair is a hot mess.
4. If I did my hair, I need to put on makeup. You HAVE to. Otherwise it is like sex without the BIG O; a complete waste of time.
5. If I went to all of this trouble, I better find some sort of accessory to go with all this shit, or at the very least, it is cold out now so I will need a jacket. And of course the jacket has to go with the outfit.
So if you calculate the time that it takes to get the shirt, shoes, hair, makeup, accessories and jacket, we are talking a minimum of 30 minutes. And that is only if all my clothes are washed and ironed. But even if my clothes can all be found and are not wrinkled, my kids have to be compliant enough for me to be able to get all of this done. So basically doing this every morning would require a Presidential pardon or an act of God depending on who was available at the time.
And at the end of the day, is wearing my respectable pair of pants worth it? I know somebody is going to say, “JUST CHANGE YOUR FREAKING PANTS LADY!” And to that person I say, SUCK IT! Um, smiley face XOXO.
So I am going to probably stick to slumming it in my Manhattan workout pants…but since I am really concerned with not getting enough respect, I am considering having my pajama and workout pants embroidered with the following: