Retraction

Admittedly, I’ve always been unsympathetic to what I’ll call Mom Frump.  Jeans with white Reeboks.  Scrunchies.  Headbands.  You’ve seen their pictures in Glamour magazine—  unsuspecting moms sporting fashion faux pas and black bars over their eyes.  Just because you have kids doesn’t mean you grab your appliqued sweatshirt, slip-on your Crocs and leave the house, right?

Wrong.  I’d like to issue an apology:

Dearest frumpy moms,

My sincerest apologies for spending the majority of my life, up until this point, judging your fashion choices without thought, empathy or understanding.  I silently disdained your overabundant accessories, your pilly sweaters, your ill-fitting outfits, and your expired trends.

And then I had two little boys.  And I found myself with infinitesimal time, money and patience.  I consciously pined for my TV.  I spent more on daycare in a year than the U.S. median annual income.  And over the course of 4 years and 2 pregnancies, I found it almost impossible to predict when I could buy “real” clothes again.  I wondered when I was supposed to go shopping?  No one wants to stay home, and yet no one can manage the agony that is being trapped in a dressing room.  Online, you say?  If I can muster the energy to open my laptop during the 60 minutes of free time I might piece together at the end of the day.

And in the last year I’ve mixed colors in combinations I’m too embarrassed to repeat.  I tell myself I’m just emulating JCrew, but in my heart, I know my standards have declined.  I’m not proud.  It appeared to match when I got dressed in the dim light of my closet at 5:30 this morning.  Really.  My sleep-deprived friends confess to wearing mismatched socks.  I slap on mascara and lip gloss in under 30 seconds, otherwise a certain 3-year-old must apply eyeshadow to his forehead.  So:

Here’s to the Frumpy Ones.  The soccer moms.  The WoMos.  The minivan owners.  The women who used to carry Coach and now drive one.

The ones who sport a wet ponytail.  They’re not fond of spaghetti, but it gets the job done.  You can snap their picture, disparage them, celebrate, or pity them.  About the only thing you can’t do is compete with them.  Because they keep the world running.  They push the miniature human race forward.  And while some may see them as the frumpy ones, I see brilliance.  Because the moms who are crazy enough to think they can raise amazing children— are the ones who do.