A call out

Before kids, I struggled to look neat. When I worked for serious and busy corporates and had to wear stockings and closed shoes even heels in the summer, it was an hourly struggle to keep my shirt tucked into my skirt or trousers, keep my hair tidy and despite working a ten hour day, look fresh.

At a global conference I was responsible for, I had been up for more than 24 hours, running around with those ridiculous Madonna earpieces trying to find the missing keynote speaker, manage a delegate that had bought her mother to the conference (I know!) and who demanded  that mummy have her own hotel room at the organisations' cost, all the while tweeting updates to our clients and waiting for a stream of phone calls to come in regarding rumors of a merger.

You can only imagine how I looked. At some point, my heels had come off to be replaced with a pair of flats one can only describe as ‘fat feet, future bunion friendly granny pumps’, the suit jacket had run off somewhere with the heels and part of my shirt had decided to hang out over my belt.

When I changed organisations and industries, their idea of business attire was black jeans coupled with a suit jacket. Without stockings and ridiculous heels, things were looking up, but I still struggled to look crisp.

Since having children, my neat struggle became weighed down with that stubborn unmovable and but wobbly post baby belly (hello black loose wardrobe) accessorised with food, vomit, play dough or paint stains.

Babies have bibs, toddlers have smocks, moving into the adult world - nurses, police and fire fighters wear uniforms, mechanics wear overalls, forensic investigators and doctors wear scrubs.

There is a certain something about people in uniform that make common civilians turn their head when a fire engine or police car goes by. It's not the siren, it's not the destination (they could really be saving a cat from a tree). It's the uniform.

Arresting people is not sexy, putting out fires is not really as hot as it seems. Saving lives? Let's leave that one alone.  We parent's and carers keep order, we have (house) rules, we manage the unruly (toddler tantrums), we put out fires (ok a BBQ or gas stove top isn't a house burning), but you get the idea.

We develop, nurture, protect, love and raise the innocent. We have equally if not more important roles. So...where is our uniform that turns heads?

I am tired of having mud marks on my jeans as Little Miss scrambles up for a cuddle after running through the muddy park for a hug. Or the vomit on my shoulder that looks like bird poo.

At the end of each day, Mr Right and I look like we’ve had some fun kinky mud wrestling session, when all we've really done is look after the kids.

So, I ask again....where is our uniform? Why haven’t baby product and clothes makers created a pair of fashionable liquid, food and other substance proof overalls or aprons that mums, dad's or carers can wear around the house and out?

I would love to put on a flattering uniform every morning that says ‘Very important and extremely good looking HOT HOT HOT mother / carer coming your way'

So am waiting people.  Are there any entrepreneurs or designers out there prepared to take my idea and put together a uniform that screams ‘Yummy Mummy’. Fashion stylists only need apply.

This blog forms part of Lisa Lintern's blog challenge. Visit Melodramatic Me.