boots: target. jeans: old navy (on loan). sweater: motherhood maternity. earrings: gift from here.
Take a good look, friends. Or don't. But these items were banished to the laundry room after my very sick little chickie of a toddler threw up all over me in the bathroom at InstaCare.
Pity me. Please. Then pity yourselves because you're seeing me in, yet again, the same 3 articles of clothing every time I do an outfit post. In fact, I've probably already posted this exact get-up already. Awesome. But here's the thing: my go-to outfits are not glamorous, they're not mind-bendingly inspiring, they're not particularly clever, they're probably not even be clean. (Wanna still be friends? No? Understandable...) Still, they're my bread-and-butter as a comfort-seeking pregnant mom.
I love wearing stuff that makes me feel pretty and feminine. But I also love wearing stuff that aids in, rather than competes with, the functions of my life. Like laundry and dishes and dusting (wait, that's a lie. I never dust.) and the occasional throw-up of a little girl who, at the moment, needs her mom's comfy lap and love more than her wearing of pretty heels and lace.
So. What do we all learn from this? Wear stuff that's vomit-proof. The end.