My standard bedtime attire is plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt. I should probably diversify. The pants get worn every single night so they are not in the best shape of their life. They are faded and they sag a little. Okay they sag a lot.
They’re not as pitiful as the ones my husband threw away two months ago. He told me with great pride that he had tossed them in the trash because it looked like I had a full diaper when I was wearing them. Well. Sounds like they were super flattering. I’m sure he meant to say that I could make a garbage bag look good. Isn’t that what he’s supposed to say? No? A girl can dream.
Here’s the thing. I don’t want to be uncomfortable from 8 pm until morning. Or 5 pm until 10 am. It happens. Moving on.
I want to be bra-less, makeup-free, and in lounge wear that could double as a tent. So sue me.
I know I’m not alone in this. Surely there are other mothers who hear me. I spend my day on my feet chasing a toddler, picking up toys, preparing meals, and playing baseball in the yard. There isn’t much sitting happening over here. When the day winds down I want to celebrate (that we all survived) with a glass of wine and mindless television. When I was working full-time I felt the same of course. Those are very long days too. And they required more care to my appearance than my current uniform of yoga pants and a top knot. The horror.
For Christmas I requested another pair of plaid pajama pants. Instead my sweet husband picked out a pair of shiny silver pjs with sequins (not kidding) along the sides. Wearing them makes me feel like I’m about to attend a cocktail-party-slumber-party. Is that a thing? It should be. I would attend with my Tervis Tumbler of Cabernet.
It’s not that I don’t take care of my appearance. I do. I feel my best when I have my face and my hair done. And I take the time to do it almost every day. But when I’m at home for the evening I want to do as little of that as possible. I also want to clean as little as possible but apparently that’s not an option or our house would look like an episode of Hoarders.
So let me have my saggy pajamas. I promise not to let it get out of hand by wearing them for a full 24 hours. Unless my husband is out of town. In which case I will never disclose what goes on inside of our home.