It was a pretty hot day, thus the Kool ‘n’ Soothe fever relief gel sheets on Raven’s forehead. She calls it “the cold bandaid” and I may be the one to blame.

She wanted to go to the park. I wanted to go twinning with her. Win-win.

And, yes, I’m one of those corny moms whose idea of fun is to go out wearing matching outfits with her kid because there’s only so much “fun” things I can think of beyond sleeping. Oh, wait, there’s reading, writing, the occasional Netflix, crocheting, and op shopping. Omg, I love op shopping!!! Which was where I got this denim jumper dress anyway.

I thought about dedicating a section of my blog on outfit shots of the clothes I got at the op shop but, why bother? Pretty much everything I wear at any given time is thrifted anyway. I kid you not. The only thing left for me to do is to slap some price tags on them.

If the term “ethical wardrobe” rings a bell, that’s me. A euphemism I love to use for being broke but still having the desire to look like a million bucks. Sartorial-wise, my looks average about $20 which, on paper, sounds really sad but then again, there’s nothing glamorous about child labor or factory workers being forced to work in dangerous buildings and inhumane conditions. If you haven’t yet, watch the documentary ‘The True Cost‘ and you’ll see what I mean.

Anyhow, let’s see at what age I start embarrassing my daughter. Or myself.

When Jeff asked which park we should go, I picked the least crowded one. I figured school wasn’t out yet so there’d be fewer kids in there. If only there’s a playground but like, for introverts. You know what I mean?

True enough, apart from a couple of elderly men and women sitting on the bench and two teenage girls gossiping on the side, it was just Raven and me. Just the way I liked it.

If fear of slides is genetic, I have the sinking feeling Raven inherited that particular genome from me. I tried to coax her out of it, though. Slid down one of the bigger slides to prove to her it was safe and fun but, no. She just wanted wanted to go down the baby slide. Chickening out at the last minute on the bigger one I was showing her when it was her turn.

Maybe I’ll just give her some time to get over her fear. And while I’m at it, maybe I should work on overcoming my own fears as well. But to be honest, at this point, my fears are bigger than going down a kiddie slide.

Adult fears are legit scary. I don’t remember signing up for this.

But that’s life, I guess. In return, you get something beautiful, as well, to make up for the shitty bits.

*Raven at 3 years old