Pajamas

As a little girl, one of my favorite pastimes was playing with my dolls. I would spend hours dressing them and styling their hair, and I was the proud owner of every doll outfit imaginable, all with matching accessories. I dreamed of the day when I would become a Mommy and have my very own real live “doll” to play with.

Many years later, when my first son was born, reality set in, and it soon became evident to me that my newborn son bore few similarities to the dolls of my youth. However, as I settled into the foreign routine of motherhood, I began to take great pleasure in outfitting and shopping for my baby. A whole new world opened up for me, as buying clothes for me fell to the wayside and I discovered Baby Gap and Gymboree. I delighted in perusing the displays of tiny jeans and miniscule polo shirts. My son possessed more pairs of shoes than I did, before he could even crawl. Each day was exciting as I selected his outfit and dressed him up, from his little baseball cap down to his miniature Converse sneakers.

When my daughter was born a year later, I was overjoyed to expand my shopping repertoire to the girls section as well. I stocked up on headbands and bows, tights and little dresses. Her outfits were coordinated with care, and when she spit up, I was secretly glad to have a reason for dressing her up all over again in a new outfit.

Five years later, when our second son joined the family, I was eager hit the baby stores once again. However, right from the start, our little boy seemed to have a mind of his own when it came to fashion. He squirmed as I attempted to stuff his tiny legs into designer jeans, he was miserable in a button down shirt, and he was constantly pulling off his socks and losing them. He seemed to be happiest clad solely in a diaper. By this time, I had mellowed a bit as a mom, and being that I had less time for shopping anyway; I was content to outfit him in stretchies most of the time.

By the time he was 18 months old, he insisted on wearing pajamas 24 hours a day. No matter where we went, be it to the park, a playdate, or a party, his faithful pjs were his choice of attire. Luckily, I had mellowed over time, and since I was already a veteran mom, I decided that this battle was not worth fighting.

Our friends and neighbors got used to it, and many people found it adorable. There were some who patronizingly suggested that perhaps he had Sensory Integration Disorder. After a bit of research, I realized that this was not case, as the sweatpants and T shirts that I offered to put on him were every bit as comfortable as his pajamas. He was just a spunky kid and his choice of apparel only served to highlight his mischievous nature.

He had no particular preference for a specific type of sleepwear. All winter long he stayed cozy in his fleece sleepers (pulling boots on over them was a challenge), while in the summer, he romped around in his shorts and tank top pajamas. Fortunately for him, I had now had a fourth child on the way and with 3 active kids, I had little energy left to devote to his wardrobe. I confess that it was definitely a cheap alternative to clothes. All had to purchase were a few pairs of pajamas to outfit him for the whole season!

When the pajama phase came to an end, as all childhood stages do, I’ll admit I was a bit disappointed. There is something so endearing about a kid in his pjs, that just makes him a magnet for cuddles, hugs and kisses. Pajamas had become so much a part of who he was, that when he finally did start getting dressed we barely recognized him! Now on weekends when he hangs out in his nightclothes until noon, I smile at him wistfully as I recall his adorable toddlerhood quirkiness. Today he is a confident, outgoing 7 year old, which I surmise is partially due to the fact that I encouraged him to express his individuality during those toddler years.

If there’s one lesson I have gleaned from 13 years of motherhood, it’s not to sweat the small stuff. Children grow up much too quickly for us to trouble ourselves over our kids’ choices of attire or other such trivialities that our fatigued maternal brains won’t even remember a month from now. Yes, it can be humiliating when your daughter insists on wearing her new bathing suit to your cousin’s wedding, or your son is wearing his snow boots on a sweltering July evening to your nephew’s Bar Mitzvah. But these are the moments that we will fondly look back on and laugh nostalgically. It is these idiosyncrasies that make our children who they are, and by permitting them to express their uniqueness, we are building foundations of confidence for a lifetime.

At the mall wearing pajamas