gunny sacks

remember one time when i got so excited because i sewed my little girl a few dresses? and remember how cute the dresses looked on the hangers and how perfect they were going to look on my baby? and then remember how i actually am a horrible sewer and can't measure anything to save my life and how one time i put a dress on my child that i made and her arm started turning purple because the sleeve was cutting off her circulation?

purple arms or not, you have to admit it's a pretty stinkin' cute dress

flashback: my mom used to tell me and my sister all the time that we were so pretty, we'd be cute even if we were wearing a potato sack. i tend to believe her based on the halloween i went dressed as a dragon. i was filled with newspapers for crepes sake and i still look adorable... 

but who are we kidding? this post isn't about me and my costume past. no no. it seems that narcissism kind-of goes out the window with a baby in the house...
 
now that i'm the mom, i'm taking my own mother's philosophy one step further. instead of just telling quincy she'll look pretty in a gunny sack, i'm showing her that she will. here's what our morning looked like:

really, mom? you're really putting me in this "outfit" you made me? you're kidding, right?

okay fine, you dare me to look adorable while wearing this hideous thing? try this face on for size

ya know, i may look like the love-child of one of those plastic tablecloths from the 70s bred with lady gag's shoulder pads , but this is actually kinda comfy

wait! where are you going? i wasn't being serious. can you please take this ridiculous piece of work off me now, woman!*

*in addition to losing any and all drops of narcissism that i once had, i've also completely lost my marbles and now have more complete and intelligent conversations with my 7-month old than with anybody else. sad.