Maternity Clothes

I am currently unable to download pictures from my camera, so I've been trying to think of things to blog about that aren't picture-dependent. That's hard for me! Hopefully I will have the camera thing figured out soon. In the mean time...

When we went home for Thanksgiving I brought home my giant tub of maternity clothes. And I mean giant. Why on earth do I have four pairs of black maternity slacks? I think I had a maternity wardrobe larger than my regular one. Some of the things will probably never be worn again--too dressy or, unfortunately, too small. It made me think of five years ago and the most beautiful dress I own.

During the summer of 2001 I was able to attend the Colonial Williamsburg Teacher Institute, aka Nerd Heaven. An entire week of colonial American history from dawn until well past dusk. It was an insane amount of fun and I still have a baggie containing all of the receipts I am still afraid to total. The following school year I did a half day colonial shindig for the 5th graders at my school.

The next year I was in charge of social studies for all of the 5th graders, and I got a little more adventurous. It helped that my friend Annette was pretty much always up for anything. So one evening we went to Hancock's and found dress patterns and material and I located a woman who could do the sewing for me. $100 later I had the most beautiful dress ever. I am even going to say it may rival my wedding dress. I love this thing. We put on a whole day to-do and it was incredibly fun. And we looked fabulous.

Fall of 2003 rolled around and I found out I was pregnant. One of the first things I said to Annette was, "You know that dress isn't going to fit this year." It was really quite fitted. So I planned on wearing a Colonial Williamsburg t-shirt and I was good with that...until about a week before our Colonial Day was scheduled. As I was sitting at my desk one afternoon, it occurred to me that I could still squeeze into my regular jeans, and if I could do that, then surely I could squeeze into that dress. As the afternoon wore on, I became more and more sure that I could pull it off. I mean, I was only four and a half months pregnant. Why on earth would that super-fitted dress from a year ago not fit me?

When Jay got home that evening, I had the dress hanging in the doorway. "Help me zip this thing up," I said. "I think it's going to work." He gave me a funny look, but he didn't say anything. I slipped on the dress and turned my back to him. "Ready!" I sucked in my ever-expanding belly and felt the zipper begin to slide up my back. And then it stopped. I looked over my shoulder at Jay, turned back, sucked in some more, and grabbed onto the door frame. Even though there is no photographic record of this event, I know you've all seen it many times before:


Except this time, instead of flouncing into class in my totally-rockin' colonial garb, I was half dressed in the hallway with my husband looking at me like I was crazy. "Did you really think it was going to fit?" he asked? "Yes. I was sure I could suck it in." The look in my eye must have warned him against defying my hormone-driven logic, because he just shook his head and unzipped the dress. I sighed, "Maybe next year." Which, of course, didn't happen because I quit teaching, and no one else thought it was as fun to plan a full day of colonial activities for 80+ kids as I did.

My dress has been hanging in my closet (next to Jay's Star Trek uniform) for the last five years, peeking out of the plastic bag at me each time I reach for my sandals. Unless I develop some kind of serious illness, I don't think that dress is ever going to fit me again. But if I do develop some serious illness and it ends up killing me, I am leaving instructions to bury me in it. I may be dead, but you are not going to believe how great this dress is!