“What do you mean by “The Fancy Moms?” I asked.
“You know, the ones that get all dressed up to take their kids to school.” He responded plainly.
This caused me to consider what I was wearing; yoga pants, t-shirt, and Nike’s with my hair pulled back in a bun because a pony tail would sway too much when I go for a run after dropping him off. I’ve written here before about self-reflection, but in this case, my habit of not dressing up to take my kid to school was presented as a simple fact from a pre-teen.
After I get all three other family members on their way in the morning, I usually go running, then shower and then, I suppose, become a fancy mom. I used to run before everyone was up, but it’s too dark and cold and after some incidents, decided to wait till later in the morning.
Still on our way to school I ask, “Does it embarrass you that I’m not a fancy mom?”
“Not really,” he replied.
As we pulled into the drop-off zone my heart lightened, “Oh look, that mom is wearing her pajamas and slippers! At least I’m in non-sleep attire!” I said proudly. I suddenly felt like I was the bad mom in a comedy movie.
He shrugged and said, “I guess that’s good. Bye.” And jumped out of the car, on his way to his despised classroom.