Clothes Make the Mom

Our neighbors are having a tree taken down in their yard today. If I lean my head forward until it's almost touching the monitor, I can watch the workmen outside my window. They are all decked out in hard hats and safety goggles and workboots that probably have steel reinforced toes.

It's got me thinking. I wouldn't want to deal with wearing so much protective gear just to go to work in the morning. My workday keeps me mostly dressed as I am right now--barefoot in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Maybe this is the reason I've never made it past Fly Lady's Beginner BabyStep #2. I just can't seem to get myself "fully dressed to lace-up shoes" when I'm not going to leave the house.

And maybe this is why moms don't get so much respect in our society. We don't have a fabulous uniform. Little boys want to grow up to be firemen and astronauts, little girls want to be princesses and ballerinas (and yes, some little girls want to be firefighters and some little boys want to be ballet dancers). All of these have great uniforms. Every year about this time there are probably millions of kids dressing up as astronauts and princesses, going to parties or trick-or-treating from house to house.

Can't you just imagine a little girl appearing on your doorstep in sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt (possibly stained here and there), with her hair up in a ponytail, holding out her orange plastic pumpkin? "And what are you this year?" you ask politely. She holds her head up proudly and announces, "I'm a stay-at-home mom."

Yeah, I don't see it happening either.

Now maybe if moms got to wear form-fitting leotards and red wristbands as we fought grime and flew in our invisible jets...oh, wait. The position of Wonder Woman has already been taken. Darn. I've always wanted an invisible jet.

I can't help but think of the maxim, "Clothes make the [wo]man." If motherhood came with a dress code of powersuits and high heels, it seems we'd get a little more respect from the world at large. Or at least Corporate America. Of course, my job would be a whole lot harder, chasing after my toddler in heels! How did June Cleaver do it?

But, really, how much is respect like that worth? When it all comes down, I guess it's not such a difficult choice for me. I pick comfort any day over the respect of people who only grant such respect based on what I'm wearing!

And maybe next year it will be my daughter in the sweatpants and ponytail. Watch out for her.