One Christmas tradition I wanted to start this year was that of matching pajamas. I know it’s kind of douchey, but I think you’re allowed to be that way when you have a little kid(s.) Right? Maybe.
Where I excel at having
questionably douchey festive ideas, I fail miserably in execution. In my mind, I saw us all waking up on Christmas morning in stripped red and white PJ bottoms, leisurely making our way downstairs to brewed peppermint coffee and a big breakfast before letting Jack open the presents of his dreams: tupperware, a new spatula and an empty cardboard box.
In reality, I don’t drink peppermint coffee and I haven’t even begun to look for matching pajamas.
BUT Christmas is still two weeks away. So yesterday, feeling like the Pinterest Mother I am not, I headed out to find Jack some PJs. I walked confidently into Carter’s because I’m a mom who was out with her baby and I was wearing jeans. Clearly the epitome of a woman with her shit together.
The sales associate greeted me as I only slightly struggled to get the stroller through the door, and she asked me if I was looking for anything in particular.
Yep! Just looking for some Christmas pajamas!
She sucked in her breath, looked at me like I was the Grinch, and said Oooo, what size?
Baby. 9 months. It’s his first Christmas!
Yeahhhhh. We don’t have any Christmas pajamas. They’ve been out since August, and we’re all sold out. We’re actually getting ready to put out our Spring clothes next week. Then she offered this jab, like I’m a neglectful mother who deserves it …so, if you need warm clothes, buy them now.
In my mind, I said: Listen, lady. I may be cutting it close here, but I know it’s COLD OUT thankyouverymuch.
In real life I said: Oh wow. Those other moms are really on the ball. Maybe I could make it work with this Santa onesie.
Yeahhhh. That’s a girl’s onesie, and it’s not pajamas.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME, LADY!? Kick a mom while she’s down. Shit.
Seriously, if you’re a mother of a new baby who was thinking about Christmas pajamas in AUGUST, I applaud you and I want some of whatever you’re on.
Better luck next year, Jack.