{I blame Mattel}

Outfitting children isn't turning out quite like I had envisioned. You see in my little girl mind on the daily, and I do mean the regular tip, I had my baby Amy dressed to the nines.  She wore the sundresses with the ruffled bloomers.  She wore the onesie jumpsuits with the snaps up the legs. Her head frequented frilly sun hats and cute bonnets. She didn't chew on the stings.  Nu-uh & nuh-asty.  She didn't even kick off her coordinating baby shoes with the sweet felt bottoms. And she certainly did not unlace the little white walker shoes with the bells on the toes.  She couldn't. She was plastic. Not to mention, her eyes closed automatically when she went from vertical to horizontal.

The sidebar of it all is that baby Amy had brown eyes and black hair.  Um yeah.  Have you seen my children?

Let's just say I am fully confident the children being reared in GENERATION NOW will have such a parenting advantage over my generation. Why you ask? Because thanks to American Girl, sweet little ones don't have to be playing with black hair and brown eyed dolls when they themselves have blonde-brown hair with green eyes.  What a travesty the late 70's and early 80's were for doll playing.  I mean, Mattel, get your junk together. Children of America are being mis-reared today all thanks to your behind-the-curve realistic genetic doll crafting. Sheesh.  Eyes that close automatically when you lay the baby down.  I cannot even begin to discuss the real nightmares that little nuance left me with as a first time mother of a newborn. I mean come on.  Psychiatric drugs companies today are thanking you kindly for the first-time-moms whom of which played with the likes of your dolls.  Nice Mattel.  Really nice.

Rant over.  Ahem.  Now, where was I? Ah, yes.  Outfitting children.  I dreamed of girls not with black hair and brown eyes mind you.  Yes, I would have a slew of girls and we would be all matchy-matchy.  I would proudly carry the American Girl credit card.  {Who just went and googled to see if that was a real option?} I would french braid hair until the cows came home.  We would scrutinize lip gloss colors for just the right strategic summer effervescence overlay.  We would shop Goodwill together and paint nails.  We would master all the cool hair tools as a collective team of estrogen too.

Nope.

I had boys.  2 of them 20 months apart.

Hence, outfitting has become so extremely overrated.  I mean I count myself girly on days where I wear a regular bra instead of a sports bra.  Pray for me.  The boys rock comfort and totally create their own style.  Casey is quite fond of accessories.  Hats, bracelets, necklaces. The boy loves a good addition.  Eli, on the other hand, is our minimalist.  If I request he wear a belt or {insert big deep gasping breath here} khaki pants to church in lieu of his trusty favorite jeans, he has somewhat of an outta body experience that leads to some sort of stomping of feet and rolling of eyes behind my back I am certain.  Pray for me.

Easter.  Yes, it happened.  I went all PRIOR PLANNING PREVENTS PI%$ POOR PERFORMANCE too.  The night before we had dress rehearsal so that I could put in prep work for all things iron worthy.  Easter is big.  Jesus rose from the dead.  I can surely put an iron to a pair of pants for that. I will refrain from the specific details of our pre-game Easter experience, but let's just say after a full hour of closet mediation/consults, I came away with a headache and devout glory shouts to the Lord that I clothe boys NOT girls.  My 2 went all kinds of ape crazy with their Easter selections.  There was some heated moments with mother & sons.  I may or may not have said, "You will wear a belt or I will spank you with one."  Yes, that's right.  Pray for me.

And Easter morning may or may not have showcased me with a head full of hot rollers trying to zip up my dress chasing Casey out of my bathroom shouting that he would, in fact, be wearing his dress shoes that we had already decided on last night and NOT the sneakers that were currently on his feet. At which point, Kenny may or may not have intervened with, "Casey, do not talk to your mother or get near her for that matter the rest of the morning."  Jesus, we love you.  Especially on Easter.

So, it's safe to say a few things here:

1.   God is omniscient indeed.  No girls need come from my womb.

2.  Lucifer uses Easter attire for his evil schemes.

3.  Casey did wear a belt, dangit.

4.  And, the dress shoes too.

5.  Um, neither were even photographed.

 

Yeah.  Pray for me.  I blame Mattel.  I blame baby Amy and her black hair and obediently closing eyes.  It's their fault I am a hot mess of motherhood.  I had no idea that I would have boys and that no, we wouldn't be going to TG&Y to get our pictures taken every week in my pretend green 5 speed Pinto.  {Yes, that was my dream car. Pray for me.}

It's Cheap Thrills Thursday and it's time I own up to my responsibility for this day here in this space.  Because just re-hashing this story in type has me about one hot second away from a glass of vino at oh say 10:15 AM.

Dress shoes for boys is a waste of time and money.  Particularly if your boys are 7 and 9 years old.  I know this.  And with this post as my witness, that's about all I know.  You can buy great dress shoes for boys at Goodwill.  You can count on them being barely used and that you will have several selections from which to choose.  Kids' feet are like Chia pets.  Ain't nobody got time for droppin dollas on frilly shoes for expanda-toes.

I bought a pair of Sperry brand dress shoes for Casey.

And Born brand dress shoes for Eli.

I paid $1.00 for Casey's which retail for $55.00.

And $5.00 for Eli's which retail for $110.00.

$6.00 plus tax spent and not one.single.picture to prove that dress shoes were the absolute.right.choice for my baby Amys' Easter attire.

Your prayers are appreciated,

.mac :)

See you next week!

p.s.  Do you love reading me? Awe, thanks. I enjoy you right back. If you wanna receive my posts via email, please subscribe so as not to miss a beat of my kinda crae-crae.  The box to do this is in the top right of this page.  Or, you can follow me on bloglovin' too.  Go here and you are all set.  You can also follow me on Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest or Facebook if you like.  Now, that's alotta Meghan marbles.  But, oh they will roll around in your head so nicely.  Just ask my husband.