don't fix it

This morning it's cold and rainy and the house smells like oil for some reason we can't figure out.  We had people in, even called them after their work when it still smelled so badly.  I woke up in the middle of the night last night (Milo next to me, Ben on the couch, Elliott whimpering) and the smell hit me like a wall.  I got up and walked around and wrung my hands a little, but right now it's something that no one can do anything about.  It just exists.  This oil smell that reminds me how little I really understand about how my house works.

Milo just woke up to come hang out with me.  He has a black eye, from a train track that hit him at school.  I think he was pulling it from someone, got it away from them, and went flying backwards.  He hit himself with it, and it was just a little mark until days later.  Now it looks like he got into the eye shadow- purple and green right below the eyebrow.  He says it doesn't hurt.  Thinking about his black eye reminds me how little I really understand about his day, most days.  I'm not there.  I can look at pictures of the year, read the daily list of facts about eating and sleeping, check his sticker chart for having a dry diaper.  But I don't really know what he says to his friends, or how much he interacts with Elliott, or what his routine looks like.  I have to wait for summer for that.

My personality never stops wanting, and I'm constantly wondering about other situations I could be in.  I only recently stopped describing myself as someone who was planning my next life.  I want to do every single thing that can be done, so it doesn't surprise me that some days I want to spend every waking second with my two greatest accomplishments, and other days I want to be miles away from the screaming kids that live in my house.  I never, ever felt sad coming back from maternity leaves.  For mother's day, my gift was being away from my children for an entire day.  But lately, I've felt uncomfortable about being away from them.  I'm not sure why.

Another thought hit me yesterday, while I was calculating the boring purchases I needed to make (baby gate to replace a wrecked one, carbon monoxide detector that was not related to and yet incredibly related to the weird oil smell) and weighing their importance against my next paycheck, and thinking about how the daycare checks would stop over the summer, and how much easier things will be when ...we have a bigger house, ...we don't have to pay so much for daycare, ...we eventually (hopefully) live closer to family, ...I'm home with the boys this summer.  And then wisdom hit me in a scary, clarifying slap: no it won't.  Nothing will be easier.  When we live in a bigger house, our mess will expand to fit the space.  When we have more money, our expenses will shoot up.  We'll always spend all of it.  We'll always want more.

I have to operate under the assumption that right now is absolutely as good as it is ever going to get.  I have to be comfortable that I'm leaving Milo and Elliott in good hands during working hours, get used to pinching pennies or using the credit card when we need a baby gate and there's no other way, and stop wishing away hours, even during the weird vortex of the last two weeks of school.  I have to trust that the oil smell will go away, or it won't, and then a combination of Google and neighborly advice and the phone numbers stuck to the furnace will guide me.  I don't understand how any of this works, but it's working, and right now, I'm not willing to drive myself crazy to figure out why.

But, Einstein, there's a problem with fairy tales...

(image credit)

We're learning about fairy tales in first grade.  It's a really fun unit, with lots of talk about fairy tale elements, fractured fairy tales, and alternate endings.  We're also pushing story elements in general (characters, setting, problem, solution) as a way to wrap up studying literature at the end of the year.  We ask the same questions over and over again.  Does this story use the rule of 3 or 7?  Was royalty involved?  Were there magic words?  What was the problem?  How was it solved?

Identifying the problem is such an important life skill, and you can usually get into some great conversations about the different layers of a conflict in a story and which problem was the most important one.  But when studying fairy tales, it gets pretty bleak.  This week we're reading Cinderella, and we start the week with a classic version before moving into different cultural or fractured retellings.  Here are some excerpts from our post-read class discussion:

"So what is the problem in this version of Cinderella?"

"Um...they are mean to her."

"Yeah, and she does all the work, all the time."

"She has a bad life."

"I agree.  How did this problem get solved?  What changed?"

"Her sisters decided to be nice to her and she forgave them!"

"Why did they decide to be nice to her?"

"She was pretty.  They didn't know she could be so pretty."

"She did look different at the ball, that's true.  Is that why they changed their behavior?"

"I think it's because she became a princess, and you can't be mean to princesses."

[At this point I realized I had kept digging because I thought we were going to get to something deeper, but that's it.  The only positive change came from getting married to a prince.  I didn't want to write it on the board.]

"I think you're right.  The only real change in the this story came when she got married to the prince.  Then her life got better."

[The girls were smiling and I panicked a little.]

"But, even though it's romantic, it's not very likely in real life.  Do you think any of us will marry princes or princesses?"

[Hysterical laughter.  Almost in danger of losing them.  I pulled it back.]

"Doubtful.  So pretend you're Cinderella, and marrying a prince is out of the question.  What could she do to get a better life?"

"She should have stood up for herself."

"Yes!  I agree!  What could she say?"

"She should have said, 'You can't treat me that way.'"\

 [Direct from our classroom procedure for speaking to someone who wronged you!]

"I think that's a very good idea.  What else?"

"She could find a new family with nice people in it."

"That's a possibility, too.  The story says that Cinderella is strong and kind, so I know she would have found a way to get a better life, even if she never met the prince."

I wish I actually believed that.  I felt very magical sharing fairy tales with my tech-obsessed modern kiddos, but so far we've uncovered that Jack was a greedy thief who abused his beanstalk, Goldilocks was guilty of breaking and entering, and Cinderella was persecuted because she was too beautiful to stand- only royalty could get her high enough to stop being hurt by people who were jealous of her. Even the chick in Rumpelstiltskin happily marries the prince who three times threatened to kill her if she didn't produce enough gold.  That's just a side plot.  None of the characters face consequences.  Happily ever after means married, rich, and not getting in trouble for your crimes.

I know there are versions that remedy this- I just found a retelling of Goldilocks at the library in which she makes the beds, helps the family fix the chair, and then they make another breakfast together.  Fractured fairy tales are humorous and usually show character flaws in the heroes or heroines, which opens up great conversations about perspective.  But the basics, the classics, have dark themes and zero self-esteem building for girls, or boys, or anyone.

I think this is why I love the movie Frozen so much.  Love at first sight is mocked and shown to be silly and unsafe, the love that saves the day is a love between sisters, and the male lead character asks permission before kissing the girl he likes.  Not his true love forever wife- it doesn't end with wedding bells.  And the kiss is a sweet addendum to the real climax, where sisters embrace and Anna punches the bad guy all by herself.  I'm weirdly grateful to Disney that, even while retelling another fairy tale (we covered that most Disney movies are based on fairy tales heavily in our introduction at school), they were able to make this one so fresh and modern and fair.

Next year when we take out the fairy tale unit, one of the most important things will be modern day alternate endings that I'm going to have the students write.  I never want to stop sharing the magic of dragons and giants and castles and adventure, but I also want the students to recognize that you can have magic and still be a good person, that you can be strong without being a prince, that you can have a good life without ending up married and rich.  It seems a little deep for 6-year-olds, but this is the age where those messages get embedded.  My favorite quote about education (and life) is from Cardinal Thomas Wolsey: “Be very, very careful what you put in that head because you will never, ever get it out.”

Any tips for sharing fairy tales without completely betraying everything you believe about appropriate behavior for men, women, and dragons?  I'm going to be scanning the A Mighty Girl character list to see if any good book recommendations pop up.  I'd love any advice.  Happy reading.

hey suburbia, we're in love with you.

(image credit: Robert Adams)

This isn't what I intended to post about today.  I actually thought today might be the day I sketch out an editorial calendar for the first time in over ten years of blogging.  I have all these post ideas- I want to tell you about our new living room, about things we're writing/eating/playing/reading, about the way I feel about Frozen, and about the way I'm building my village while confronting the sadness of living so far away from so much of my family.  I'm supposed to get directly off the computer and do a laundry folding blitz, because I think it's the most productive thing I could possibly do with a double nap time (currently happening for the first time in months) and I know I'll feel SO DAMN GOOD when it's all put away.

But I think the truth, above, that folded laundry would make me feel like a rock star right now, is exactly what I've been mentally confronting all day.  Ben is spending time today working on a movie, and visiting with friends from college.  These friends (and others like them) live very different lives than we do.  They travel for work and pleasure, create and enjoy art, make last minute plans, start socializing for the night at 11pm.  It's a foreign culture, and not necessarily one that I covet.  Still, every now and then, those kinds of lives get pushed up against mine for a moment in time and I wonder "Am I too boring?  Are we too stodgy?  Is it okay that I really don't feel comfortable inviting people over without 24 hours notice?  AM I WRONG IS THIS WRONG SHOULD I BE SHOOTING HIGHER AIMING FOR MORE?"  It can get frantic pretty quickly.

I used to want to live in a tourist town in an apartment over a shop.  I would feel the urge whenever I was somewhere charming- Newburyport, Gloucester, Northhampton, Burlington.  I thought about the vintage curtains I would hang and the way I would head downstairs and into a little organic cafe for my coffee every morning.  I used to want to live on a working farm.  I wanted to grow all my food and have chickens and milk cows and sew my clothes using feed sacks and repurposed cloth from thrift store clothes.  I used to want to live in a big city.  I would visit my sister and dream about living steps from a T stop, meeting friends in little bars and having my nightly jog take place on the Charles.  None of these things were actually long-term dreams, just reactions I would have when confronted with different lifestyles, whether I was reading or visiting or passing through.  I can't sew and I couldn't live without a car and access to a Target.

My mom told me once that she thought I was going to be the daughter who took off and never looked back.  I was always independent, working from age 14, and I have almost zero family memories from my high school years- I was usually gone.  I picked teaching because I was good with kids during after school jobs, and I picked Fitchburg State because someone told me that's where teachers go.  I only applied to one college, and never entered into any conversations about why, or why not.  At Fitchburg (which I loved- those are years I still mourn for), I usually took the path of least resistance, got through my classes by doing a bare minimum, did as much theater as I could let people include me in, and fell deeply for Ben, at first because he was older, then because my mom didn't approve (read: older), and then because he was patient with me, and we had a home together, and then we got engaged, and it was all reactionary for both of us from there.

What we have now is fire-tested and weathered with age.  In October, it will be ten years since our first kiss.  I have no memory of adult life that doesn't include him.  Ben saw me through student teaching and watched while working in schools went through all the stages it goes through- "I am terrible at this," then, "I'm getting better at this," then, "I hate this," then, "I might stick with this."  He waited while I went through a "going out" phase that he had no interest in.  We bought and fixed up a house, had kids, traded in cars and secured an eye doctor, an insurance agent, a plumber.  We are deeply entrenched in a suburban life.  Yard sales, swimming lessons, trying to eat more greens, evening walks in our neighborhood, and battling the lawn.  We never stopped and asked each other if this was our end goal.  We just went along with whatever was happening.  And here we are.

I don't think it's bad.  I like going to the park, scoring deals on kids clothes, and getting frozen yogurt for a treat.  I'm okay with never being out of my house after 8pm and falling asleep in front of the TV every single night.  I don't like live music, and Ben isn't into restaurant meals.  We don't have family close and babysitters + daycare is wildly expensive, so staying home is a natural choice, and it usually feels right.  I understand that a house, a career, a sweet husband, and two healthy, hilarious boys is a GIFT, something I barely deserve, and it leaves me no real room for philosophical musing.  This is a good life.

I'm not sure there is a conclusion to this post.  It's a wondering out loud, and there's no final paragraph that can answer the questions.  I'm curious what you think.  Have you had very structured plans along the way?  Have you gone with the flow?  Are you happy where you are?  Do you think it's too self-important to have these thoughts at all?  I wonder where you stand.  I have a feeling that no matter where I am, as long as I keep wondering, I'll be fine.

Masters of Education

I graduated from Fitchburg State (I never know whether to call it college or university- I know what I'm supposed to call it, but it feels weird) with a Masters of Early Childhood Education on Thursday night.  I am now, as the college president called during our ceremony, a "double falcon."

I felt a little guilty because I did not, contrary to all the speeches tritely given at our ceremony, give it my all, fulfill my dreams, or reach for any stars.  I know it's a law tha graduation ceremonies cannot escape using at least one of these phrases, but I did not stretch my brain to the limit.  I got by with a bare minimum, sometimes.  Often.  I was not there by sheer force of will, but because I needed further education to keep my teaching license.  All teachers in Massachusetts have to get a Master's degree.  It is unavoidable.  

I also felt a little silly because I decided to walk.  I spent my family's tight resources to buy the cap and gown, I paid a babysitter to watch my kids, and had my husband leave work early.  My mother spent her time off work and bought PLANE TICKETS.  She took us out to dinner.  There was lots of fanfare.  All for what?  For something that everyone has to do.  For a government requirement that is probably, in the long run, mostly situated to make the colleges more money.

But here is the thing: I love ceremony.  I love tradition, and I love recognition.  When I put on the robes and Milo said, "Mama, ghost!", I got a little thrill.  When I talked through the rec center where the graduates gathered and all the staff gave us numbers and checked our name pronunciation and said, over and over, "Congratulations," I felt proud.  I said, "Thank you.  So much."  When Ben jumped down from the bleachers and hugged me as I stepped off the stage, I got butterflies.  When I got to hug my mama and have her be proud of me in person, I was so happy I had decided to go through with the "silliness."  We went to dinner at Mezcal and had adult conversation and we would never do that on a Thursday if I hadn't decided to celebrate the most recent milestone.  On Friday, my vice principal congratulated myself and two other friends in a school-wide email, and I was completely spoiled with coworkers taking time to give me a hug, or a thumbs up.  The same friends who had to go through all the same hoops, and had celebrated the same accomplishments, didn't begrudge me a little "woohoo!" and shared the relief of being done.

I don't think finished with my education.  One day, I'd like to be a children's librarian, and in Mass, that requires more degrees.  That would be my true dream fulfillment.  But for now, I'm reveling in the pride of my job that supports my community, gives my family health insurance, and puts me in contact with one of the most important support systems I've ever had- my work family.  Thank you, Mama, for coming and seeing me.  Thank you, family (Julianna, Emily, Linda, Laurel, Tanya) and lovely friends (ALL OF YOU) for the messages sent from all over the country.  Thank you, friends (Shayna, Kate, and Lindsay), for watching my kids while I'm at class.  Thank you, Southeast, for cheering me on and making me feel special, even when I'm doing what all of you have already pulled off.  Thank you, Ben, for infinite patience and taking the boys when I needed to finish a paper.  Thanks for reading, too.

monday, april 28th, at 6:13am

Everyone is sleeping.  There are loud birds outside.  In just the space of an hour, our house will be a hive of activity.  Lunches in bags, breakfast splatters being wiped up, searching for the right underwear with that dress, the elusive matching sock.  Prep for the week has been done: chopped veggies and roasted sweet potatoes and a huge pot of brown rice.  Most of the clothes are folded.  Most of the clutter is tidied.  It will only be this quiet for a few more minutes.  It is absolutely perfect in here, just waiting.

Before I finish this post, I'll hear the soft patter of Milo vaulting over the side of his crib and padding out into the living room.  I'll hold him and show him the new shelves with all his toys.  I'll remember how much I liked picking them out yesterday, at Ikea, with his father.  We looked at other people with kids and pretended we were dating again.  Milo and I will watch Peppa Pig and negotiate about when it will be time for breakfast.  We'll hear little stretch and yawn noises from around the corner, where Elliott is sleeping with Daddy, where he has been since sometime around 4am.  Then, all at once, the house will be throbbing and loud and the day and week and month will start.

I was up early, before it was light, to sip coffee and read different articles.  I stocked up on quiet and privacy.  I cried if something was sad and clicked save on things I found special enough to share.  I strengthened my reserves to get ready for my real life, where little kids need me in the morning and at night, and slightly less little kids will be eagerly waiting for me in the classroom hours, kids who are as desperate for their routine as I am for my morning time.  We'll share news and hugs and talk about the countdown for summer, and I'll try to remember how wildly different those 8 weeks are for some of them.  Not everyone "can't wait."

I live for these moments.  The couple of seconds before the next big chunk of time.  I like the month before a new baby is born, the first week of a new year, the night before a birthday, the morning before school starts again.  The last few minutes before everyone wakes up.

free association

Elliott turned one, and we had his birthday party.  Cake, friends, balloons, a fake photobooth, mostly just the friends, filling the house to bursting.  I wish we could have invited 70 more people.  It was one of the rare moments where I stopped and realized "we are loved.  we are treasured.  we have people.  this is awesome."  Thank you, all of you, for making our family work.  For validating my need to share and get feedback and show off this little life, with all the ups and downs.  It was a good party.  After the last friend left, I laid down flat on the floor with shreds of a silver wig pressing into my face, and Milo sat on my back, and I drank the rest of the champagne.

This morning the boys were up early.  Like, from 1am on, and when all of us and the cat in the full sized bed wasn't working, I brought the boys out here to play and clean up diapers and watch Megamind, which I really liked but I'm burnt out on it and only exhaustion kept me from fighting for Wreck It Ralph.  We had time for the entire movie, some balloon olympics, eggs and fruit, storytime, and cleaning the kitchen.  By 7:20 both kids had been given cough syrup and put back to bed.  I've lived half a day and it's only 8, and I'm alone in a quiet house.  

My mind is everywhere.  My heart is sore and my brain jumbled, dwelling on a real-life sadness, one of the things that makes it so I don't need to read Jodi Picoult or watch dramatic movies.  Real life is sad enough, even heard about from a distance.  Work is overwhelming, and I wonder if it's right.  If I'm a right fit.  If I could move a small step up or down and be more effective.  I'm wondering if I could ever make money by writing.  The kind of money that sends kids to daycare and puts kale on the table, even if we pick Ramen for Saturday lunch over half the time.  There is a big part of me that truly thinks it's selfish to even wonder.  I have a job that provides SO MUCH for my family, money and medical care and a predictable schedule and the gift of time.  Whether or not I'm fulfilled is a separate matter.  Maybe the first goal is to learn how to fulfill yourself, make yourself happy, get a hobby and get really good and it and shoulder through the work.  See it for what it is and look for your fulfillment in the moments before, after, and in between.  Count your lucky stars.

So that's a tiny corner of my brain right now, a constant beat with "WE NEED YOGURT" and "FIND BABYSITTER FOR MONDAY" thrown in for good measure.  Right now I'm going to take advantage of this silence and read, and have more coffee, and make a list of things to get done like any sane person on a Sunday morning.  I'm happy, and I'm lucky, and I'm home.

(image credit here, found it via pinterest, text added by me)

Tuesday Morning Real Talk

I'm stealing 15 minutes for real talk.  This shit is hard.  Super duper awfully hard.  Harder than last year.  Harder than being home.  And being home is HARD.  But...I'm having a harder time than ever.  And sometimes I feel like that's a new normal, which defeats me.

I'm stressed because teaching is so much more work than I remembered.  There is always something else to plan, ALWAYS something new to implement, and routines to master, and so many meetings.  I also forgot how great it is to bond with a class and start to love them, so that helps.  But honestly, loving them means I put more emotionally into the room.  And after exercising patience and coming up with logical consequences and being kid-friendly all day, coming home and doing the same thing for Milo drains me.  I went from loving 2 kids to 22.  That's one curve.

Then I started grad classes, and they're GRAD classes, so there is a lot of work and discussion posting.  It's a class about families and their influence on children's lives and how to involve them in the classroom community, which I find so interesting.  My first project is a brief genealogy and lifestyle analysis of the last 3 generations of my family!  I would do that for fun!  But I have NO TIME to devote to this, at all.  If it wasn't required for my license, I would definitely take the  classes a little later, when my kids needed me less.  I keep picturing myself walking in the spring, taking pictures with the boys in my robes, trying to visualize my way out of this one..  But nope.  It's at the bottom of my priority list, but undroppable.

There has been a mix up with daycare, and this is the biggest thing throwing me off.  There were some situations with paperwork and a terrible illness in the family of the lady who watches the boys, and until everything is sorted out, the boys are not going to daycare.  Instead, a neighbor related to the daycare family has been coming to watch the boys at our house.  It sucks.  Ben used to have a small window of free time in the mornings and on Mondays while the boys at school; he did chores and ran errands and got groceries.  That window is gone.  The boys aren't playing with friends, they're here all day in their same boring house, and avoiding that is one of the main things that made me feel good about being a working mom. Ben and I can't take any more time off work than we already have to make going to classes and stuff work, so we're stuck with this solution right now.  It's supposed to be temporary, but it's already been two weeks, and it's wearing on us.

The boys aren't sleeping.  Elliott is teething, or something?  Milo knows how to get out of his crib and does it CONSTANTLY.  We moved Elliott back into our room.  Again.  When Elliott freaks out, Milo stays up because he's scared about his brother crying.  Most of the time, both of them end up in our bed.  We are exhausted.

Honestly, writing our situation out helps me realize that we're doing okay.  I'm focusing on the concept of balance, long and short term.  This part of our lives will be busy and crazy.  There will be other times when we'll miss the chaos.  This month might be awful, but maybe November or March will be more settled.  I know others have it worse.  We're all fighting something.  But right now, I'm wiped.  I'm worried about how wiped Ben is.  I'm looking forward to some sort of break for our family.

Pictures are from this weekend.  We're tired but quite adorable.

Back to School Outfits (and feelings)

One week of school is down and I am feeling SO many feelings.  When am I not?  It's been five days of daycare, three days in front of students, one extended long weekend, and I can barely remember my stay-at-home days.  I spent some TIME on Saturday, going through my pictures from this summer and updating a completely shameless album called season of the stay-at-home mama.  It's basically 250 pictures of my kids, and nothing else.  Posting the pictures helped me put it all to bed, and I feel really energized about this awesome new year.

I've stepped up this year, really wanting to present myself professionally at work.  I've been putting thought into my work clothes and getting myself very prepared the night before so I can give myself time to look the way I want to the next morning.  Only once did I fall asleep on the couch before packing lunches, checking the spare clothes in the backpack, and presetting the coffee maker.  The next morning sucked, so I won't do that again.

This is what I wore the first day back to work.  The shirt is from Old Navy, the skirt is from Mod Cloth, and I probably never would have tried the belt form Ann Taylor Loft if my sisters hadn't convinced me it would look good.  I felt really cute and put together all day.  Pennants are the theme for my classroom, so my necklace was a finishing touch.  This was the first time many of my coworkers had seen me since January, so I wanted to present well.

This image quality is really, really, REALLY terrible, but there was no one around to help me capture this cute outfit.  The skirt is dark denim from Old Navy, the shirt is from Ann Taylor Loft, and the cardigan and shoes are from Target.  I love this skirt and will wear it all the time, and I thought the whole outfit together looked professional but casual.  I wore it to our district's "opening day," and a grant I had helped write and submit was awarded to us at the huge meeting, so I was glad I liked what I was wearing in front of every teacher and administrator alive.

This is what I wore for my first day with my students.  It's another grainy, before-sunrise kitchen picture, but I love it.  Eshy is the perfect picture-taking accessory.  The skirt is WILDLY comfortable and from Old Navy, the t-shirt is from Target, and the belt is the same from before.  I need more belts- this tucked and belted look really works for my figure.  I've worn this skirt two other times, to a party and to Ikea.  It's magic.

After this, life got even crazier and I forgot to keep taking pictures, but I did two dresses with cardigans for the other two days of the week.  And then, after school on Friday, I changed back into yoga pants and took the boys for ice cream to celebrate our new routines.

There's more to be said about balance and routines and how Elliott is adjusting to being out of the house, but for now I'm just celebrating that we made it through a week.  It will get harder and harder, when the novelty wears off and lesson planning gets more demanding and grad classes kick in.  Until then, I'm just enjoying my return to the world of working mamas.

Wardrobe for a Working Mama

Back-to-Work by ashlie-elizabeth featuring a rayon dress

I know fall is almost here because a) Target is selling school supplies, b) it's weirdly cool in the mornings, and c) Pinterest is blowing up with back-to-school crafts. I've spent a few days prepping my classroom and I'm feeling mentally ready to head back to work.  Physically, however, I'm in a bit of a pickle.

I've been pregnant for the last two years.  When I went back to work after having Milo, I was only in the building for two months before becoming pregnant again.  This means that I never stopped wearing maternity clothes.  Since 2011.  I also haven't had a full year in the classroom since the 2010-2011 school year, when I taught kindergarten and had a completely different life.  I'm going to back to school +2 kids, up 50-60 pounds, with a budget that includes minivan payments and daycare for two.  I have literally not a scrap of professional clothing that fits me, and I have a stronger-than-usual desire to prove myself, coming back to the full-time game with a new administration and some new programs.  I want to dress for success.

I've been spending a lot of time browsing plus-sized clothes sites to gather up some well-fitting staples.  Pinterest didn't exist the last time I cared in any way about dressing myself, so that's been a resource I really love.  I've found a few real-life fashion blogs that have given me some outfit ideas (Hems for Her is my favorite, because I think we have similar body types) and some trendy brands are offering plus sizes.  With reviews, you can really get a feel for the fit and quality of almost anything you throw in your cart.  And a lot of places are offering free returns.  

I made this vision board using Polyvore, which is a cool site that lets you put together outfits from their database or using clothes you found on the web.  It's like an outfit Pinterest.  I'm definitely buying the denim skirt, black pants, and polka dot cardigan.  I know I want some bright tops and at least one feminine skirt.  I'm giving myself some rules that should have always been rules: zero absolutely zero flip flops, Friday jeans outfits need to have a sweater or cardigan to take it up a notch, and spend money on a few comfortable things you can wear to death.  I'm also planning to take stock of my necklace situation (they're beyond useless to accessorize with when you spend your days with infants and toddlers) and get my second holes pierced in my ears.  Painted nails and a haircut will take me the rest of way.

Any tips for dressing to work in an elementary school?  For feeling like yourself when your body has been a factory farm for children over the past few years?  I'm feeling excited to spend a little time and money making myself presentable. I'll take some pictures of my working mama style as the year progresses!