I try.

I didn't have my coffee before I got to work, so John was at the mercy of my regular, sluggish, uncaffeinated brain as I rushed to get to work early this morning. I'm a bit behind on getting the laundry up from the dryer (it is sitting there clean, but unfolded), so as I reached into his still-ample supply of clothes for a pair of pants that matched the so cute orange and brown onsie that I had already wrangled him into, I was feeling pretty good about actually getting him dressed this morning (he's a baby of leisure and gets to wear his sleepers most days). It was even better when I found a pair of pants that would match. They were way too big around the waist, but being the clever mom that I am, I was congratulating myself as I figured out how to cinch in the elastic band inside. Okay, out the door. We both had clothes, I had my purse, diaper bag, and kid. Check, check, check, and check.

When I arrived at work I bragged to my mom that I had figured out these new pair of pants and didn't they just look so cute on him? I can't remembered if she gave a little laugh or just smiled, when she asked if they weren't the ones that she'd bought for him this summer. I guessed that they were, and she commented that they were for a much older child. Hmm, I mused....the legs fit just great, though. Um, except that they're shorts...size 4. For my 8-month-old.

Right.

I guess this is were I decide to accept that I may never have my act together, but acknowledge that I still got both of us out the door, he doesn't care what he wears, and look how much LONGER he can wear these cute little shorts/pants/whatever! Okay, I'm a mom, and mom's are brilliant....even when we aren't quite perfect. Maybe I'll get the hang of this eventually.