Fabulous Moms With Frumpy Kids Need to Parent as Good as They Primp

Model momI could get lost in H&M. Not physically disoriented, silly. I mean totally engrossed in all of the fashionably adorable goodness that dangles and hangs from the shelves and racks in that store.

So I was all in my own personal utopia, rifling through a pile of slightly overpriced but really cute sweaters, when a woman came up next to me so she could rummage through them, too. She was fab-u-lous. Haircut flawless. Skin perfect. Makeup on point. Her outfit was so dope, all she really needed to do was stand and pose for a pic and H&M management could’ve used her as a pin-up poster girl.

And then, bless my stars, there was her daughter. Looking like her mother might’ve rode her there like a pack mule. Poor baby.


She was about 8 or 9 with a wild cauliflower puff of hair perched atop her head, flyaways screaming out at every side. Her jacket collar was dingy as all get out, like it had never, ever been introduced to a squirt of Shout or a few scrubs with Wisk. In fact, everything the child had on was racked out, not like she’d been playing hard at recess that day and perhaps gotten disheveled in the process of having fun. Nope. This was like, she woke up, rolled out of bed, pulled something funky off the floor, and left the house looking like that.

It really grates my nerves when there’s no balance between a mama’s clear pampering for herself and the upkeep of her children. The rule of thumb for having little ones is: don’t have more than you can manage to maintain and keep looking nice. Kids are generally a reflection of you but if you’re looking like you just stepped out of a front row seat at Fashion Week and your kid looks like they just got done using their outfit as a full-body mop on the floor of Grand Central Station, then what does that say?

Yeah, I’m not sure either, but it’s a conflicting message.

Now, that’s not to say I applaud the completely opposite extreme, which has kids in single-digits ages with sneakers and jackets that cost as much as my entire warm weather wardrobe. That’s a bunch of foolywang, too. Why would you put a third-grader in a pair of $150 shoes and charge them with keeping their footwear nice and new-looking? Puh-lease. That’s surely setting the poor kid up to fail — or have an anxiety attack whenever he steps outside, one or the other. The irony of wearing brand new basketball sneakers but being forbidden from actually playing basketball because they might get dirty is super stupid.

Girl Child has never had a $150 pair of sneakers because I’ve never had a $150 pair of sneakers. And out of the two of us, I would be first in line to get them if anybody was going to. That doesn’t mean I’d banish her to her broke down Nikes from two years ago while I sashay around in style. Still, I can understand a mother shopping for herself at Gucci and putting her children in stuff from Target. Kids grow out of their clothes, kids destroy their clothes, kids don’t stay neat, kids manage to get droplets of almost everything they eat on some part of their person.

What I can’t OK are mothers who faithfully visit the hair salon and nail shop to beautify themselves but let their kids run around looking like unkempt little characters from Where the Wild Things Are. Groom the poor children until they can take over the job for themselves.

When is a kid too old to have their mama dressing and grooming them?

Image via vancouverfilmschool/Flickr

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