Yesterday was Gwen's 4th birthday and I changed clothes almost ten times (okay, two, maybe three times). Not because it's about me, but because I know the pictures from those days will live on, for probably forever. Normally, I don't care that much about what I'm wearing out. Though I do try and keep my underwear from showing and steer-cleer from shirt with visible stains. But on days I know I will be photographed and that the occasion is cause for the photos being around for a while, I sort of panic. "My kids will look at this picture after I am dead and all they will think about is how awfully I dressed." Yep, pretty much.
|My stop-taking-pictures-of-me face.|
I think I went with a pretty good outfit. I am in that awkward, 'is she chubby or pregnant?' stage that there's just no getting around. I've also had the pleasure of feeling noticeably more chunky in the tush/thigh department. Which makes fitting into the three non-maternity pants I still (kind of) fit into, a little discouraging. I have some maternity pants, but I have a weird body type and they don't quite fit yet. The horror!! I know, I'm whining. I'll stop.
I did dress the girls in track suits today, which is strangely satisfying. They were gifts. Because, of course. And I can't waste clothes. I just can't. I have a hard time parting with kid clothes that are stained and too small. To get rid of perfectly awkward track suits is just not my thing. I used to dress Gwen really adorably. People would comment all the time on how cute she looked! No one does that anymore.
|Rawr. Track suit power.|
|I'm just a 90's girl trapped in the 2000's.|