Dressing for the weather.

There is an argument for loving each and every month.  Just about.  I don’t have anything good to say about February but that’s just me.  March is my birthday month.  It’s the beginning of spring, the end of daylight savings time.  Spring break.  Sometimes Easter. 

When I was a kid, the spring/summer JCPenneys catalog would come out.  My sister and I would page through the kids clothes in the catalog.  Okay, she would page through once and go about her business.  I would dog-ear it before the month was out.  I loved looking at the bright colors of summer, the kids at the beach.  I would imagine how I would look and, later,  how popular I would be if I could only have the turquoise skort with the matching headband and butterfly tank top.  We know the end to this story. 

I would get one new outfit for my birthday.  It was always for spring and although my birthday is late March, I wanted to wear it right. now.  No matter if there was a blizzard going on (happened twice) or if it was cold and raining.  I didn’t care that the lawn was still brown and there was still frost on the car in the morning (which I was required to scrape if I wanted a ride to school…oh, the inhumanity…).  I wanted to wear my one brand new (read: not hand me down) outfit as soon as the tags were ripped off. 

My favorite, most memorable outfit was in fourth grade.  I hated fourth (and fifth for that matter) grade with the white hot heat of a thousand suns.  My mom picked out, from JCP of all places, a pink and white shorttall.  Basically it’s like a baby jumper with the buttons in the back.  All that was missing is the snap crotch. But I loved it.  I got my fifth grade pictures taken in it, I loved it so much.  This?  Is why I was never popular.  I was ten years old and dressing like I was ten months old.  Yeesh.

I love dressing my girls in the spring and summer.  They are my summer babies and look so cute in bright colors.  It’s a weakness really.

I do the same thing except the catalog has changed.  Now it’s LLBean, Mini Boden and Hanna Andersson.  I’d like to go through, like I did as a kid, and circle everything that catches my eye much like I load up my cart while surfing the interwebz and then shut my computer off without digging out my debit card.  The equivalent of leaving everything in the dressing room. 

I wonder if my mom secretly wanted to see my sister and I in the cutie outfits worn by kids who never played in the sand or dripped ketchup on their shorts.  I wonder if she looked at white pants in toddler sizes and laughed just a little.

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