I strongly believe that an evening routine is necessary for a smooth morning, when you’ve got an hour to get three people fed, dressed and out the door. It has a few kinks here and there, but as Scott cleans up from supper C and I get ready for the next day. We make lunches, pick out Little C’s outfit, then my outfit and after a bit of playing, it’s time for a bath and bed.
It turns out that the order is crucial. Lunch. C’s outfit. My outfit. Bath. Bed.
Ok, sometimes I make lunches after laying out clothes. Sometimes we don’t give C a bath. Sometimes my clothes get put out after C goes to bed. But it’s never my clothes before C’s clothes for one very crucial reason:
I wouldn’t know what to wear.
Let’s review: 9 months of my saying “I don’t know what to wear! This baby is stealing my body!” Twelve months of “I don’t know what to wear! This baby spits up on everything!” And now “I don’t know what to wear! Who am I without this baby?”
Separation anxiety is high in this house. During the week, I thought it was just me, but through the weekend, it became obvious that everyone is struggling with this new arrangement. The last thing we need is for a clothing issue to rear up in the morning and throw the entirely too precariously balanced morning off the deep end.
My solution is to choose an outfit for my daughter that is cute, and try to pull inspiration from that. Some days, we’re wearing the same items (tweed dresses). Some days, we’re wearing the same colour palette (and those days, even Scott sometimes gets in on the fun). Other days, it’s a loose inspiration, but it’s nice to have a jumping off point.
Three of my coworkers, and my closest “work friends” left on maternity leave while I was off, so while we’re finally a fully staffed office again, there are lots of people there on term contracts. It’s quiet. It’s lonely. But from time to time, I catch my reflection in a window or a mirror and while I haven’t quite navigated this new identity of “mother” and “career person,” and so don’t always like what I am wearing. But I feel good, because I see C’s outfit reflected in mine. Yes, its weird. Yes, it’s silly, but these days every little bit counts.