Even before I became a stay-at-home Mom I wasn't what anyone would consider a snappy dresser. Blame it on my Midwestern small town roots – prior to K-Mart coming to town the only place we had to buy clothes was the gas station.

That, and the fact that it took three nights of babysitting to buy a new pair of jeans (is anyone else disturbed at the inflation rates of babysitters in the last 15 years?) put me well on the path of choosing sweats over stilettos.

However, when I worked in an office, my ratio of clothes you can't sleep in vs. clothes that double as pajamas was about 5:1.

But slowly, over the course of the past three years of hanging with my kids, the tides have turned. Some people might call the way I dress “slovenly”, or “disgusting to look at,” however, every piece of clothing I wear comes with thought and purpose.

I like to call it the uniform.

As you can see, even famous moms (like Katie Holmes, above right) take cover in "the uniform," and on the streets of New York, no less.

Every month, an invitation to our elementary school’s upcoming PTA meeting arrives in my inbox. It’s a nice touch, this clever use of modern technology to gently remind the slacker moms and dads among us of our parental obligations to sell wrapping paper and plan pancake breakfasts.

But every month, I still promptly hit the delete button.

For baseball diehards, it’s a long, dark, cold winter without the sun on your face, a St. Louis dog in hand and Mike Shannon on the radio. The 2012 baseball season is a distant memory, and spring training is still seven ice-covered weeks away.

However, Jackie and Me, a new production from Metro Theatre Company and Edison Theatre is keeping baseball in play this January and bringing kids face to face with the man who broke down barriers in stadiums across the U.S.

Through the power of a magical baseball card, Joey Stoshack, a young baseball fan, and the Metro Theater Company audience are transported back to 1947 on the day Jackie Robinson becomes the first black man to play for the major leagues.

When my first child turned out to be a girl, I was ecstatic. And while you might say that the whole “becoming a mother and falling head-over-heels in love with my daughter” was the cause of my ecstasy, I’m embarrassed to say that there was another factor involved:
 
The pretty pink outfits that you can only buy for little girls.    
 

At an event the other day, my friend – a new mom with a six-month-old – mentioned an upsetting trend at her office.

I've always wondered what kind of jerk parent would take their sick kids to a public place. Specifically a public place where there would be a bunch of other kids.

I tirelessly work day in and day out sanitizing shopping carts, administering vitamins and sacrificing virgin chickens to the gods of children's wellness all to drop them off at pre-school to see some kid with the creature from the green lagoon hanging out of his nose.

I mean, how selfish! Kids spread viruses faster than Lindsay Lohan at a... well... anything – and dropping a sick kid in the middle of a bunch of healthy ones just so you can have a little break just shows a total lack of respect for anyone and everything. Reckless.

Then there was last week.