Mom style?

Lately, I have been obsessed with a particular academic style blog, Academichic. Had I known about this blog in grad school-- or had I known that people blogged about academic style at all, or even personal style, really-- that's how blind to this corner of the blogosphere I was-- I would have never graduated because I would have spent all my money and time buying clothes and taking artsy pictures of myself in those clothes. Awhile back, Antenna had a great discussion of style blogs and what fashion might mean for academics. Since then, I have been reading Academichic everyday, and I have even been dressing exactly how the bloggers on that site tell me to dress because I am, apparently, an Academisheep.

Seriously, last month was scarf month, and I wore a scarf at least once a week. Last week was cardigan week, and I wore 3 cardigans (and I only have 4 total in my life). This week? Tights week. Yesterday, there was a post about playing with tights in terms of color and pattern and today? I am wearing patterned tights.

WTH? I don't even MEAN to be such a sheep. Today I planned to be bare legged with boots, but my black boots are a little too slutty for the office. And I am no style blogger, but here's a fashion tip: If you have to spend any length of time surveying your reflection in the mirror to determine if your boots are too slutty for the office, take the boots off, you slut.

It's kind of embarrassing because I know some people in my building love Academichic too, and I feel like when they see me all sheeped out, they are snickering silently. Paranoid much?

But really, can fashion be a form of resistance if you just dress exactly how you're told to dress? Not so much.

Also, I know there are a bajillion style blogs (and a whole cult of Anthropologie worshippers), but I have been reluctant to go any further than one pretty academic style blog because I don't know if I am ready for that world. On the other hand, I need to wear more than a rotating cast of Uggs and some Old Navy skinny jeans (that are always baggy in the legs-- always), so maybe a foray into the style blogging world would be good for my wardrobe.

Any mom blog friends want to start a mom style blog? We could look for brands that are sustainable, family friendly or woman owned, and we could write about form and function and clothes as nurture for the nurturers. About redefining mom jeans and reclaiming MILF as a symbol of empowerment (I know-- that's a teeny bit Eve Ensler for my taste, too. I'm not Third Waver, not really.). Yeah, actually, I AM sort of serious, so let me know.

And now, apropos of NOTHING AT ALL, pictures!

Here we are at Harry's sports class. it was bring-a-friend week, so he brought Jack. Also? I am more than happy to let this class be a daddy and Harry thing-- there was grass and fake grass and dirt and lots of running. Ill take the big! red! mat! any day.

He's a toothy little guy

Who still looks JUST LIKE BEN

Check it: I am so short, I don't even have to bend over to comfortably hold a child's golf club.

Jack is so dangerous lately. Look how premeditated this climb was-- he even put his water and his snack bowl up there first. All so he could turn off the light in the toy closet, scrunch up his little face and say "Daaaaaaah" (dark)



(snack bowl not pictured because he knocked it on the floor with his butt and then Harry tornadoed through the room and smashed the snack into a million billion tiny crumbs)

I include this picture only because the second after it was taken, the track pants Harry is swinging hit me in the eye, and I cried.