It’s Fall! Are Your Kids’ School Uniforms Ready?

If your kids are in need of new school uniforms for fall, don’t go from store to store looking for something in their size, visit instead. They sent my babies fall uniforms to facilitate this post and we’re hooked!

French Toast School Uniforms for Fall

School uniforms. They’re a great equalizer and I’m kind of a fan. Well, I’m a fan of equalizing the haves and have nots and the no drama morning outfit debate that I don’t have to deal with, but I’m not a fan of trying to find these uniforms at my limited local stores in the right colors, the right sizes, and the right seasonal attire. Until now. Now that I’ve found French Toast, that hopping from store to store to never find what we needed struggle (the struggle was real, y’all) is over!

French Toast School Uniforms for boys and girls

You see, my babies are tiny, and our weather is crazy on the island this time of the year. By tiny I mean, Bug just turned 9 and she wears a size 7 in clothes, but the pants are way too short, and so are the shorts, so we always get skorts with leggings. Bubby will be 7 (be still my heart) this month, and the little guy is still in a size 5…with elastic waistbands. I have no clue where they get their tiny stature from *ahem* but I hope they grow (literally) out of it one day. Until then, we deal with it. But we don’t have to deal with the endless hours of shopping for ill-fitted school uniforms that aren’t seasonal anymore.

Can I get an…







Please and thank you?

French Toast Uniforms Benefits

French Toast gets that kids come in different sizes, they get that seasonal uniforms are hard to find since the seasons are so different across the nation, so they accommodate year round with a wide variety of school uniform choices and items that can even help my littles out. I easily found long shorts for Bug (not an easy task since she’s got an itty bitty waist and bean stalk legs) and pleated shorts for Bubby that don’t fall off since they have those adjustable waistlines that I can’t find locally. And even though we don’t need them just yet (hello Houston 90º weather in October), I was able to stock up on long sleeved uniform shirts for both because I can never find them when the cooler temps set in. All without leaving the comfort of my living room (and my laptop).

French Toast Uniforms 3 IINAO

I feel really accomplished, y’all. I’m ahead of the game this year when it comes to the babies’ preparedness and if you’ve been following along at all, you know that’s a really huge deal for me this year! We’re ready for fall (OK, not the cold weather, but everything else), are you? Get the kids school ready for fall and *e-gads* winter with the help of French Toast School Uniforms this year. My kids are ready. Are yours?

First Day of School, School Uniforms, and Social Lessons from Kindergarteners

school uniforms, equality, first day of school

Today was the first day of school. Yay for them, sad face for mom. Seriously, it was so quiet in here, you’d think I’d be ecstatic, but actually I felt terribly alone. But enough about me. Let’s talk about the first day of school and things that hit me like a ton of bricks today, shall we? Well, since we’re talking about things that hit me like a ton of bricks, I guess we (really just me) are still talking about me, right? It is what it is.

The babies had a great first day, mostly. Bug enjoyed every minute of it and Bubby enjoyed the first half. Apparently the second half was really boring involving sitting on a rug and stuff. Turns out, the “stuff” was music class and it’s apparently not his favorite part of the day. He had fun, he’s making friends, and I’m incredibly proud of him.

Now, on to what “hit” me. My kids are just fine without me. In fact, they flourish. That’s a good thing, really, but it’s somewhat hurtful in a way. I need them, I know they need me, but they do very well without me. Proud, but bitter sweet.

But aside from the emotional issues of the day, I decided I wanted to talk about something political. Uniforms and equality. If you know me at all, you know that I stay FAR away from discussions of politics, race, or religion. These are hot topics and I don’t like confrontation or debate. That’s not to say that I don’t have strong views, it’s just to say that I don’t like to argue or upset others. So I shut up. I mumble to myself, I have my opinions, but I keep them closed within me, because that’s how I was raised. Today, I break that mold.

My kids’ first day of school pictures will look exactly like their last day of school pictures because my children will be wearing the exact same clothes on the first day as they do on the last. Yes, school uniforms. Although I do hate the blandness of it all, I actually totally appreciate it. Not for my kids really, but for some of the others.

We “have”, others in my area do not. It’s not fair, but it’s a fact of life. I was raised with money. A blonde haired, blue eyed, “white” girl with money. Then I raised 2 little girls as a single mom. We didn’t have shit. They were lucky to have Walmart clothes for school. The playing field wasn’t equal for them, but they made do and they did well because they had the charm and charisma to pull it off. That had nothing to do with social stature, race, or anything really, other than themselves. I was proud but I wanted more for them.

Kindergarten, equality, equal rights

Today, as I sent my babies to school, as I dropped them off in their classes, I looked around. All of the kids looked the same. White, black, brown, yellow…the same. Why? Because they were all wearing red or white polo shirts with khaki shorts, skorts, skirts, or pants. No one stood out. No one stood in the shadows. Equal. There was no hatred. There was no racism, no talk of socio-economic differences. And they giggled, laughed, and conversed as equals. Because they should. Because they are. One child’s family might have more money than another. One child’s skin might dictate how society treats them. But in that classroom, in those same uniforms, they are equal and in that, I find hope for this world.

I see a lot of bad things daily on the internet, on social media, but today I saw peace. I felt peace. If everyone saw the world through the eyes of a child, if we all wore uniforms, this world would be a better place. Please don’t think I’m insinuating that racism doesn’t exist. It does and it breaks my heart and every fiber of my being on a daily basis. All I’m saying is that it doesn’t exist in Kindergarten. Hatred is learned and thankfully, these babies haven’t learned to hate yet. I hope they never will.

Zach Kindergarten

I watched my son this morning and I was proud. I was proud of the lessons I’ve taught him and I was proud that he doesn’t see color or social stature. He sees people, he sees friends. We’d all be better people, we’d be a better society, if we’d all take a moment to revisit Kindergarten. There are no barriers there. No learned hatred. No discrimination. Just love, uniforms, and equality. It’s a beautiful thing. I witnessed pure beauty and I loved it!

I’m not writing this for a political debate. I’m not writing this to hear how much better I have it than others (I know that I have it better than some, worse than others). I’m writing this to point out that children (and schools with uniforms) are so much better than our society as a whole. Being unique is flippin awesome, but some uniformity, some conformity, is pretty awesome too. Let us all learn from our children. They don’t see the walls that we, as adults, sometimes build. Why should they? They shouldn’t exist. They don’t see socio-economic standing. They don’t care. They see someone that looks just like them. In a uniform. They see friends…all around them. And they are so much more brilliant than we are. Let’s don’t teach them to hate. Ever.

If my kids never get out of uniforms, if they never see the hatred that society has created, I’ll be OK with that. I hope they always continue to see everyone the same way they see themselves when they look in the mirror. That’s the way it should be and I’m glad my babies see it that way. It’s time to stop the hatred. Hopefully these kids, our future, will finally make the change and this world will be a better place. It will be as wonderful as Kindergarten where the only talk of color that matters is in the Crayola box and all of the beautiful drawings they can create with those colors…together.

It’s Not an Emoticon, It’s My Life. Sad Face.

PT Cruiser Instrument Cluster, car troubles, running out of gas
Seriously y’all, my life. It’s a novel. A crazy, out of this world story. If it wasn’t for the fact that it’s actually my life, it would surely be fiction. It should be fiction, but it’s not. Let me explain.

That thing above? That’s a cluster. The word that follows cluster in your head, is EXACTLY the word that follows cluster in my head, and it starts with an F. A big, fat, capital F. And those sad faced gauges are what I see in the console of my car every day as I drive my daughter to school, and pick her up. That’s right. My cluster is dead. No gas gauge, no speedometer, no tachometer, no lights, no ANYTHING but sad faces. We ordered the new one. It’s sitting in my bedroom ready to be just plopped in my car so it will work again. But it’s not that simple.

That $100+ cluster, if it were plopped in by a shop, would cost roughly a grand. Really? No thank you. B can plop that in but it will take a couple of days with his schedule. I can’t have that kind of down time. Bug, school, and all. So we wait, with this sad face cluster sitting in my room, until I go out of town next week. Meanwhile, I deal with this “how do I manage my gas tank in the meantime” thing. Well, let me tell you how I manage it. Apparently I don’t.

Can I tell you about my day yesterday?

I woke up at 6:15 am to stupid alarm sounds on my stupid fruit phone (that I still haven’t figured out) that go off about every 5 seconds (by my estimation) so that I could fix the babies breakfast and ready Bug for school. We left on time. YAY us. All seemed well. The car sputtered a bit. It’s OK. We were on time. I let my precious out, gave her a kiss and hug, and Bubby and I were headed to the gas station to get gas, because you know, we had NO CLUE how much gas we had and it’s been about a week. But we were headed that way.

Only we weren’t. We weren’t headed anywhere. We were, well, cluster (insert that F word here) stuck. GREAT! That’s cool. We live on an island. Nothing is far. Jump out (oh, did I mention that I didn’t bother to do anything but brush my teeth before we left the house? Yes, I was lovely.), we would walk to the nearest gas station. But hey, so what if we walked a mile in the WRONG DIRECTION before I realized that I was a moron? It’s cool. ABOUT FACE.

We walked back, you know, that mile and stuff, and headed in the right direction. Bubby was not pleased. Another mile and a half down the road. Eureka, we made it to our “regular” store. You know, that one where everyone knows my name? Yea, that one. Well they knew our names but they still charged us THIRTEEN dollars for a plastic gas can (that by the way didn’t have all of it’s parts…more on that later). I might, or might have not, pitched just a tad bit of a hissy fit in that store and vowed never to return.

OK, I totally did. I pitched a fit. Who does that? Hey, let’s overcharge our regulars when they have an issue? Oh, the Valero on 61st and Seawall does (so if you’re ever in Galveston…DON’T GO THERE…PUBLIC BOYCOTT ANNOUNCEMENT).

I called a friend. Bubby needed to be rescued. She came in on her steed (OK, I think it was a silver car, but still) and saved us. We got gas, headed to the school, and then? Yup, that gas can they sold me for THIRTEEN dollars wasn’t usable. It was missing a big part. You know, the one that holds that silly old nozzle on the can? Yup, that one. So, off to Walmart she goes. New can. A bunch of shuffle this here, shuffle that there, and I have a gallon of gas in my car (the other gallon is still splattered in the parking lot). Just enough to get me to the next gas station (obviously NOT the Valero) where I pumped an overpriced $50 into my tank. YAY! The day was going great and it was only 8:30 am.

We got home, I tried to compose myself for work and meetings but things just never got straightened out for the day. NEVER. I just couldn’t get my head in the game and nothing went right.

When Bug got home, I tried to take the babies to the park and just take a break. That should’ve been nice. What could possibly go wrong there? Well, Bubby had a melt down over something trivial and Bug decided that since we went to the park before homework, that meant she didn’t have to do homework at all. It was a beautiful thing.

We all have bad days, I know. It’s life, they are inevitable. But yesterday? Emoticons weren’t little things I posted on Facebook or in emails and text messages to share my emotions. They were my life. My sad face matched the sad face on my dash, the same one that sits on my bedroom floor. Sad face.

So what’s the point of all of today’s babbling? Don’t run out of gas. That’s just sucktastic, you won’t have a good experience with that, and apparently it will ruin your entire day. But hey, I did get some exercise so there’s that, and today is a new day. Happy face. Make it count and have a great day y’all!