I was recently chatting with a co-worker about strategies for clothing children as inexpensively as possible. I mentioned that I generally refuse to buy Sam new clothing unless under duress because I am cheap and he’s going to outgrow it long before the items wear out, so I prefer to buy used. As we discussed my strategies, she jokingly suggested that I write a book for new moms with these tips in them. I don’t know if I could stretch the idea of clothing frugality into an entire book, but I think I can get a few blog posts out of the topic.
So, today, fresh off an auction win, I’m going to start sharing my personally tested tips on buying clothes for kids on the cheap yet still dressing them decently.
Step 1: Determine your clothing needs.
Right now, Sam is at a crossroad in terms of season and size. He's wearing sizes 18 to 24 months, but most of his current wardrobe is sizes 12 to 18 months. Additionally, many of his pieces are more suitable for cooler weather (e.g., long sleeves, jeans instead of shorts), and he needs lighter clothing for playing outside and generally not sweltering his way through summer. Therefore, my goal is to find clothing in larger sizes that will also be suitable for the warm months ahead.
Note that I am not looking ahead to much larger sizes (say, 2T or 3T) for this spring/summer. Why? Because I know that Sam’s growth rate at this age is pretty slow and steady, so it’s reasonable to assume that his current size range will get him through most of if not all the warm-weather months. However, if a bunch of clothes I buy for the summer are too large (say, 3T), he won’t be wearing them this year, and I don’t know if they will fit next summer. Clothes he doesn’t need yet and might never wear equals wasted money—it’s best to focus on his immediate clothing concerns.
Step 2: Determine your fashion standards.
This area is purely a matter of personal taste and lifestyle. Am I the mom who wants my child to always wear matchy-match brand-name outfits? Will my child need to dress up often? These are factors to consider when looking for Sam's clothes. In my case, I am not label conscious at all, although I do like my child to at least be clean and tidily dressed when we leave the house. In addition, we are a very casual family—it would be rare for Sam to be in a situation in which he would need to wear anything dressier than khakis—so I don’t bother tracking down kiddie clothing sporting such labels as Polo, Tommy Hilfiger, and so forth, nor do I worry about finding wee suits for him. I just want basic pieces that I can mix and match as needed and that will be comfortable for Sam to wear while playing. That said, I am a big fan of Carter, Gymboree, and the Children’s Place brands, because their clothes tend to run slightly large and are sturdily made, so Sam gets more wear out of them (particularly because he's a little tall for his age). I’m not a fan of Gerber, because their clothes run small, so Sam always outgrows them way before the label says he should.
Coming soon: Setting your clothing budget and determining where to shop.
So what has inspired me to end my 7-month blogging drought? My little boy, who becomes increasingly entertaining by the day? Work? Home life? No, my friends—it’s Corey Effin’ Haim.
Let me set the scene: A few weeks back, Chris casually mentioned that HorrorHound magazine was having one of its twice-yearly conventions here in town. He likes going to things like this, and I, well, don’t. I don’t like crowds, I don’t like to pay admission to get in somewhere just to buy things I don’t want in the first place, and I’m not a horror movie aficionado. But this convention was going to be different, because, in addition to the usual celebrities coming to meet and greet their fans (people like the dad from Nightmare on Elm Street or Adrienne Barbeau), Corey Haim was going to be in attendance. Some of you may remember Corey from his role in The Lost Boys (the movie that provided his connection to the horror genre and his first onscreen pairing with Corey Feldman), or maybe Lucas, or License to Drive, or you might just know him as a former child star who once hit a rough patch and sold his teeth on eBay.
So I agreed to go. We took Sam along, partly because we couldn’t find a sitter and partly because it’s good to expose him to “diversity.” The convention was being held in a ballroom at a local hotel, competing with the “Church of God Women’s Group” convention in the next hallway—I’m pretty sure I saw a prayer circle within sight of the admission table for the HorrorHound event.
As soon as we entered the room, I felt out of place:
- I was not wearing black.
- I do not have tattoos.
- I do not have piercings in interesting places.
- I do not have hair that’s dyed black, rainbow colors, or a crazy mishmash of the two.
- I do not smell as though I’ve chain-smoked for 2 weeks without a break.
Chris and I pushed Sam’s umbrella stroller through the surprisingly crowded room, past tables of bootleg DVDs, semi-obscene T-shirts, posters for independent horror porn (and Twilight, of course), classic monster masks and busts, a bajillion hockey mask variants, and celebrities hawking their autographed glossies for $20 a pop. (Yes, I paid $20 for my autograph. Do not judge.) Women in fishnets and skimpy tops made eyes at Sam and waved as we walked past; Sam took it all in, left middle and ring fingers crammed in his mouth (as is his wont), occasionally acknowledging the ladies’ attention by wiggling his free little finger in their direction.
After making a full circuit, Chris and I approached Corey Haim’s table. An older blonde woman (a manager?) sat next to Corey, collecting money and making change for people. The sign taped to Corey’s table promised that a free photo was included with each purchase, so Chris got the camera ready while I picked Sam up from the stroller, not wanting him to miss this momentous occasion. Corey was very low-key and polite with everyone who approached, and we were no exception. I handed my money to his helper and said I had brought my own artifact for signing—my VHS copy of Me, Myself, and I, a legendarily bad documentary in which Corey tried (and failed) to convince his fans that, really, he was just a regular guy who liked to drive around and play tennis, and he wasn’t on drugs or anything, no sirree. I bought it about 15 years ago in a video store clearance sale for $1, and I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve forced to watch it since then. When I handed it over, Corey looked mildly surprised; Chris asked if he remembered this blast from his past, and he cryptically replied, “Yes, I do, I paid for it. I paid for the whole movie.” And then he flipped the box over so he could read the summary on the back (hee!). Corey then asked my name and, with a blue Sharpie, carefully inscribed the front cover in the one tiny blank spot on it: To Heather, Hugs and Kisses, Corey Haim.
We asked if he’d mind taking a picture, so he obligingly came to our side of the table and, to my surprise, reached out for Sam, tickled and coochie-coo’d him, and then posed for our picture. We thanked him for his time and wished him a good weekend, and then I immediately let everyone on Facebook know via my iPhone that I had a picture of Corey Haim holding my son, which was received with a mixture of incredulity, enthusiasm, and snark.
So there you have it—my brush with fame! I know, you’re all crazy jealous right now. As you should be.
Although I have steadily kept the sink cleared out and shined up (with the exception of one night recently), I can feel myself starting to lose steam with this plan. Why? I have no idea. I'm not freelancing right now, so I should have the time to do things, but I find myself sputtering right now. This has always happened in the past, too. I don't get it. Grrr.
Okay. Tonight, I have a commitment that should keep me from getting home until 10pm or so. But, tomorrow, I must jump back in with Day 13 and see what I can accomplish. After all, in just a little more than two weeks, Chris and I will be going out of town for a long weekend, and Sammy's Grammy needs a decent, semi-organized house to stay in while she babysits our wee tot.
Suggestions for getting more fired-up here, anyone?
I completely slacked yesterday, other than mostly cleaning up after dinner. I had a headache that would not quit, so as soon as Project Runway was over, I went to bed. Bleh.
But, I feel much better today, so as soon as I get home this evening, I'm back on the wagon! And not only will I delete FlyLady emails from my inbox, I'll start doing some serious inbox whittling in general. Why am I still getting emails from a company from whom I bought printer ink once? Unsubscribe. Sales alerts from Meijer? Unsubscribe.
I should do that with my inbox at work, too. Maybe I'll work in a 5-minute Room Rescue (or "one of those 5-minute Room Freaks," as Chris mistakenly called it the other day) at my desk and sift through the random messages filling my box at work. Really, do I need to keep a message telling me that leftover cake is in the breakroom? Stop the madness!
The FlyLady project has been in a holding pattern for the last week or so. I spent most of last week racing to finish a freelance project (lots of late nights working, the latest being 2:30am the night before the project was due), and then this weekend I took a much-needed break and didn't do much of anything constructive. BUT, with the exception of the night I stayed up until 2:30, I did faithfully shine the sink every night, plus I did my best to keep up with my mail Hot Spot and the dining room table Hot Spot.
So, tonight, I went back to the site and saw that the task for Day 10 was to spend 15 minutes gathering trash in the house and take it outside. Perfect timing, because our trash pick-up is tomorrow morning (thanks to the holiday), so I emptied the trashcans upstairs and down, tied up the bag of evil (aka, the bag in the Diaper Champ), took all of it outside to the big trashcan in the garage, then wheeled it out to the curb for tomorrow. It'll be nice to have one less thing to mess with in the morning!
I haven't really been picking up my fledgling control journal and using it as I should, but I checked it out this evening and made a couple of modifications to the morning vs. evening routines. Really, in the morning, I am not at my best, so the less I have to do then, the better. I think it'll work better for me to do things like the 5-minute room rescues and Hot Spot clearings in the evenings, either before bed or in that brief window between when I get home from work and when I pick Sam up from The Babysitter's house. I don't have any freelance projects lined up at the moment (which has me mildly panicked), which means I might be able to do more normal house-type stuff over the next week or two and see if I can really get in the swing of this system.
Did you think I abandoned the project?
Thursday was Day 9, so I decided to tackle the clutter on my freelance work station in our room; it's a folding table, but it's right inside the door, so it had accumulated a lot of random stuff on it that wasn't related to my work needs. I set the alarm on my phone to go off in 15 minutes, and within 10 minutes, I had the table organized and rededicated to work purposes (reference books neatly lined up on one side, pens and white out in a holder, etc.)...and that time span included my making a couple of trips downstairs to deposit glasses, water bottles, drink cans, and paper to recycle that I'd swept from the surface. Yay!
The rest of the weekend wasn't really on plan, though I did keep the sink shining throughout. Sam's birthday party was scheduled for Saturday afternoon, so Chris had spent much of the week in crisis-cleaning mode around the house, prompting Sammy's Grammy to ask if we'd moved into a larger house without her knowing when she arrived for the party. Heh. It really did make a huge difference in the downstairs.
Friday night involved real crisis cleaning, though, after Sam let us know that he's apparently lactose intolerant...remember how he'd barfed up yogurt earlier in the week? That was nothing compared to the gusher he emitted after drinking a bottle of milk on Friday. I was soaked to my underwear (he was, unfortunately, on my lap at the time of the incident), and Chris and I weren't sure if our couch could be salvaged...or at least clean and dry enough for guests to sit on at a party the following afternoon. Thanks to FlyLady, though, once again I had a clear path in the kitchen and could give Sam an emergency bath without incident; the rest of the evening was spent with various cleaning solutions, the hair dryer, Febreze, and a disassembled couch. Luckily, we pulled it off, and the party went off without a hitch.
I was so tired Saturday evening that I didn't add anything new to the BabySteps, but I did make a point of at least clearing off the dining room table and shining up the sink so we wouldn't have to deal with it on Sunday. And then yesterday was spent partly at a friend's house for a cookout and mostly in freelancing, so no additional tasks were added there, either.
I'm back on the horse today, though; I'll check out the dining room table and couch when I get home to make sure those hot spots are cleared off (the couch is where mail is usually deposited, because it's right next to the front door; the table is now invitingly empty, which means random crap could get piled up on it very easily), and then I'll move on to the next task in the chain.
Lucky me, I already had a binder with blank paper in it from a waaaaay back attempt at following the system! After cleaning the sink, etc., I then followed these instructions (sort of--I refuse to use pencil for anything) and wrote down what I've been doing. For me, the Morning Routine includes getting dressed completely and either unloading the dishwasher (if it's been run overnight) or adding Sam's breakfast dishes to it and then starting it if it's full. The Evening Routine includes the shining the sink, tackling a Hot Spot for a few minutes, and either running the dishwasher or starting a load of laundry.
I forgot to get my clothes out last night until Chris was already asleep, so I'll have to start that tonight.
I felt very productive last night while watching Project Runway; instead of forwarding through the ads like I usually do (because I'm never watching it completely "live"), I let the commercials run their course but spent those minutes with the shredder. By the end of the show, I had almost a full trashbag ready to toss!
Today was Sam's well-baby 1-year check-up with the pediatrician. The exam took a little longer than usual, because Dr. C had a student doing the exam first, then Dr. C came in and repeated the whole thing while the student watched. Sam was due to have his MMR shot today, but because the exam revealed that he has a double ear infection--yes, AGAIN--he won't get the needle until he goes back for a follow-up exam at the beginning of September. Dr. C wasn't too worried about his ears, though, saying that if it weren't for kids and their cruddy ears, he'd have to go make an honest living doing something else. (Hee!) At least Sam likes the amoxicillin--he almost knocked the bottle out of my hand earlier, he was so eager to get more of it down his gullet.
Vital stats: Sam weighs 21 lb. 6 oz., and he's 32 in. long. (In percentile terms, my mad Google skillz reveal that he's in the 25th percentile for weight but 95th for height.) According to the doc, Sam's in good shape and is a healthy boy, so now we're to abandon infancy and move into toddlerdom by taking his bottles away, cold turkey, in favor of sippy cups with whole milk. Given all the feeding problems I had when he was first born, I will always be worried that he's not eating enough, so this step has me terrified. Watching him barf yogurt all over himself earlier this evening doesn't ease my fears about possible lactose intolerance (he's been on soy formula since he was about 2 weeks old), either. So, the next few weeks should be interesting, to say the least!
Again, I am glad that today's new task was a painless one, because I still feel lousy. I'd better be improved by this weekend, dammit, because I am NOT going to miss out on enjoying Sam's birthday party! I also shredded 10 more items on the shredding pile and obliterated another handful of mail for my 2-minute Hot Spot drill.
And, thanks to my recent sink efforts, I was in great shape tonight to give Sam an emergency bath after he puked strawberry yogurt all over himself and his car seat. Had I not been keeping on top of the sink and countertop, there probably wouldn't have been room in the sink for his bathtub without serious clearing efforts first, and then I would have been faced with the dilemma of how to keep the puke and Sam contained to one area while I made room in the kitchen. Instead, I was free to concentrate on controlling my gag reflex while quickly I stripped him down and then plunked him into the tub. Thank you, FlyLady!
