Smiley faces Bow Tie o’ the Night tops off this ensemble– which was made possible by the fact that I forgot to pack my pajamas for this trip. Consequently, I have HAD to wear my fancy, old timey swimming suit to sleep in. I’m so happy about the whole thing that I just might accidentally-on-purpose forget to put my pj’s in my suitcase for every trip.
My swimming attire is comfy and amusing. It’s difficult for me, or anyone in my presence, to take things too seriously when I’m wearing it. I’m wearing the button-down shirt because I was heading to the vending machine for a Diet Coke, and I was trying to disguise the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra. The shoes are my cool animal print Sloggers. And yes, I had to wear Bow Tie. I can’t be seen without some kind of tie– even by hotel guests I don’t even know. It’s a trademark at this point. I’m like the sharks that will die if they stop swimming. If I stop wearing neckwear, I will most likely disappear.
I remember that as a wee kid I occasionally wanted to sleep in my swimming suit– especially when I got a new one. I doubt I was the only kid who wanted to catch some z’s in pool attire. I have no idea why it seemed like such a fun thing to do, but I also did not understand why adults had such a hard time allowing children to do this innocuous thing. In my circle of pals, I was the only kid whose parents had no problem with the idea. I was always allowed to sleep in it. Whenever I asked Mom or Dad if I could do it, I got an answer along the lines of, “I don’t care if you sleep in your holster and cowboy boots. Just go to bed.” Ah, the joys of being the afterthought baby of the family!
My parents were exhausted pros by the time I made my appearance on the planet, so they were loose-goosey with me about inconsequential things. Their previous parenting had taught them which battles mattered and which battles were much ado about nothing. The “nothing” battles needed to not be fought, and sometimes not even commented on. Apparently, sleeping in a swimming suit was a “nothing” battle.
Mom told me flat-out once that she and Dad would spoil me, but that I was not allowed to be a spoiled brat. She said she and Dad were done doing all the vacations, etc. they did with the other kids, so I shouldn’t expect any of that. She said, “We’ll give you stuff and let you do what you want. But you’re not allowed to be a snot.” She wasn’t completely serious, but she sorta was. I got the message. If I was respectful of others and kind to them, I was a-ok with my parents. I didn’t go without material kid things. But mostly, I did not go without constant love and care and security. I was spoiled with those things every minute of my childhood. And of my adulthood. And of my middle-age-hood. And of whatever age-hood I’m in now.