This morning was my turn to drop Luka at school. Liam, the self-sufficient one is still on his bicycle happily cycling to school at the crack of dawn wearing his school bomber jacket that he will hopefully grow into before going to Grade 5. I was a little upset the day that I bought said bomber jacket, I was a tad tired and stressed about the amount of money that I spent at the little shop of horrors, also known as the Uniform Shop. So stressed that I got a bit carried away when trying to show the shop assistant how tall Liam was and we now have a bomber jacket for a seven year old that would fit me.
The Uniform Shop. They make it sound so innocent, but once you walk through those glass doors your credit card starts quivering and sweat gathers on your brow, because for the price of a pair of Christian Louboutin shoes you can get one bomber jacket and a single pair of grey socks.
The first time I entered the shop of horrors, I almost feinted when presented with the total amount due. To pay more for a blazer for a six year old boy than you do for a blazer that mommy can wear to work (bear in mind I work in a bank and it’s not like I can come to work wearing a bomber jacket) is ludicrous right. I immediately started bitching and moaning with my fellow mothers of Midstream and they all felt the same, but what could we do. Our kids were all entering primary school and to not send them in uniform would be frowned upon. And you need to buy a couple of pairs of pants, socks, shirts, a jersey! Gym kit, swimming trunks, Liam officially owns more expensive clothes than me.
Over time I got used to the gruesome prices that the shop of horrors charge and I was so well prepared mentally that when I went in one day to get a gym bag and was presented with some change for R500, I was so confused that I promptly spent the change on some grey socks. Almost like when we were little and went to buy milk and bread from the Portuguese Café owner in Middelburg and our mom said that we could have ‘chappies’ for the change.
So back to this morning, wearing my nice high heels and a blazer fit for wearing in a bank (I did try on the bomber jacket but sadly maroon is not my colour), still a tad on the wrong side of freezing and I see them. I see them everywhere, the stay at home moms. I also immediately notice that they are mostly all en-route to the gym, in proper winter gym kit, long thermal type pants, lovely socks and trainers, some even wore beanies! Oh to be a stay at home mom, to be cozy and comfy in your nice soft clothes, to be able to go to gym at a decent hour, not at 8pm or 5am. To see the sun, to get proper wear out of your Prada eyewear, my sunglasses just end up gathering dust in winter. To be able to stay in bed just 5 minutes longer, because you don’t need your hair straightened to go to the gym and you don’t need make up either. I see you with your dewy fresh faced good looks, I need to slap on the concealer to avoid staying blue all day. I am 100% convinced that I would be able to drop Luka off at school in my pyjamas, with a big scarf , a nice jacket and a killer pair of sunglasses nobody would even know.
Oh, to be a stay at home mom, but wait, how would I ever afford to keep Liam in school uniform if I don’t have a job? I would have to give up my own shoe fetish, I would have to buy only a couple of pairs of boots to last me through the entire two month South African winter. Never, I would rather be cold, blue and miserable then…
Comments
Post a Comment