Homeschool Fashion
As many of you know we have decided to homeschool Emma this upcoming year. While many (make that Many, Many, Many) people have expressed their distinct distaste in this decision, there was one distaste that stuck with me.
When we were thinking about the idea of homeschooling I was still working. Well out of home. My boss gave me this horrified look and said "you're not going to dress like them are you?" Looking back on this it makes me laugh and I can most assuredly tell you, no. No I am not going to dress like them. Whoever "them" is referring to.
But you know who she's talking about...the people who wear wood soled clogs and corduroy skirts (in my Seinfeld voice I'll back that up with not that there's anything wrong with that).
A girlfriend down the street homeschools her four children (heaven help her) and she was talking to me about homeschool fashion. She was saying that her kids can wear whatever they want because they're homeschooled and sometimes their outfits are so odd that she's sure the neighborhoods abuzz with comments.
Maybe I will be eating these words in the coming years when the aliens have scooped my brains out and left only soft, worn denim in their place, but I will not be dressing my family in this fashion. So here before God and my country I make you this pledge:
*I Lindsay-not-telling-you-my-last-name will not wear clogs
*I will not wear a corduroy skirt unless they become back into fashion in a big, big way
*My children will not wear something that came out of the swiss alps collection
*They will stay well groomed
*They will be dressed in clothes, not pajamas or something that could pass as scrubs
*Until Emma gets that streak where she refuses to wear anything I like, our children will be fashionable (well as fashionable as an old prude like me can dress someone as). After Emma insists on dressing herself, there's no telling what we are in for.
Whew. I feel so glad to have that out in the open. I will be blogging more about homeschooling as we get closer to the school year starting, aka when my head will explode and roll around on the passenger side of the car.
Amen.