So I had this great idea to get the kids all “uniforms” to wear to Mass. I got the girls these great skirtswith Peter Pan collared white blouses. I got the boys pleated navyslacks with white, long-sleeved polo shirts. I even bought Gabrielle asuper-cute navy jumper to wear that she adored.
We keep their “Mass uniforms” together in one drawer where they arealways clean and ready to wear to Mass. And I tell you, it reallystreamlined our Sunday morning scramble. No more racing around thehouse in a desperate attempt to find everyone something clean andappropriate to wear to church. No more questions or complaints aboutwhat anyone should wear. I even managed to save myself a bit of laundryby insisting the kids remove their Mass clothes immediately afterchurch so that I could get two wearings out of them before they neededwashing.
I felt a little “Sound of Music” at times, but for the most partthe uniforms really were a great idea. So great in fact that I wasbeginning to feel a bit smug about it. At great long last, my familycould look nice with what didn’t feel like a lot of effort on my part.
They looked nice, that is, until we all attended a “cake and cocoa”reception following Mass on Saturday evening. And did I mention thatall the uniform shirts are white? Or, more accurately, that they were white?
When we left the hall, the kids were still perfectly matched—allwere sporting that chocolate-smeared and cocoa-dribbled look that’s sopopular at these family-style gatherings.
So now I am soaking, scrubbing, Oxi-cleaning, bleaching, and praying for the best. Oh, and planning black uniform tops for next season. Instead of “Sound of Music” we’ll be beatnik. Cool.