Eden is putting together an outfit that only a mother could love her in. The real problem is that her own mother isn’t feeling the love.
Zebra skirt that is torn out a little? Check.
Mismatched socks? Check.
Wool clogs that Jack chewed? Check.
Shirt that washes out her complexion and is stained but sweetly says, “Daddy is dreamy and so am I”? Check.
Down coat that is soooo dirty as only a coat in Michigan in April can be? Check.
Velvet scarf that she stole from me? Check.
Uncombed hair? Check.
The thing is, we are going to the store. Furthermore, I am looking a little schlumpy and I guess I was relying on her cuteness to carry me, whereas I am going to need to spruce up so that she will look like a bit of a bohemian and I will look like a loving mom and not a sad sack who has let herself and even her kid go.
Or we could go as we are, and be who we are, and not worry what the very few people who even notice us think.
I’ll keep you posted.
(And I took pictures of the fabulous outfit, to be uploaded later.)