What really happens when the shades go down.


I have a confession.

I own this now.  It belongs to me.

 The suit

Hello, suburban soccer mom warm-up suit.

BUT KERI – what about thisAre you giving in to this?   What about that “I will not be assimilated” stuff?

Didn’t take long for all that to go out the window did it?  How is the minivan shopping going, Ker?

NO NO – but wait!!

I didn’t pick it – I swear!!  I CAN EXPLAIN!

It involves Corporate Keri, and participation, and cuddly 80’s cartoon characters.

No Really.

Each year the office has a blow out Halloween Costume Contest, with different groups and teams interpreting a theme and going all out – costumes, pumpkin decorating, and even (oh yes it’s true,) cube/office decorating.  This year we decided to really go for it – opting for a furry group of cartoon characters from our youth – who shall remain nameless until Halloween because we are THAT crazy serious about the competition.

The next thing I know I am at the Kohls (which is pretty suburban mom of me too, BTW,) in front of a  giant display of semi-fuzzy velourish sweat suits in every conceivable color, making my selection. (What’s that?  You say “velourish” is not a word? That has never stopped me before.) Of course, Black and Grey were the two selections I was drawn to, but alas, these options had no coordinating fluffy characters in the cartoon land to which we are paying our homage.  Unable to stomach the idea of full-body royal purple, or the baby-est of blues, I settled on a light tan that worked well for one of the characters. I  plunked down my debit card (do I have any “Kohl’s Cash”? Um… no,) and left the store with a plastic bag hiding my purchase.

Here is where it gets truly shameful.  While The Mr. was upstairs reading Ten in the Bed for the eleventy billionth time with Jr, I decided to try the situation on “just to see.”  As soon as I zipped that fuzzy jacket up under my neck, a strange and powerful sensation washed over me.  I felt warm, and relaxed. I sunk onto the sofa and stretched my legs out in front of me.  The fireplace toasted my velour suit as I curled into its generously proportioned comfort.

Mmmmm. Cozy.

I was asleep in two minutes.

Uh oh.  The Mom suit has magical powers.  It soothes and swaddles and calms.  It warms the limbs, and the soul.


In the days since that first encounter, the pull of the suit’s siren song is strong.  I feel it, luring me after long days on endless conference calls, enticing me as I brace against the fall chill to get home.

Twice more I have given in. The rewards it promises have not gone unfulfilled.

I can’t quit the Mom suit.

Don’t misunderstand me – you aren’t going to bump into me squeezing Asian Pears at the grocery store wearing it or anything.  Hell no.


The idea of wearing it, on purpose and with good reason, to the office all day on Halloween excites me.

For the rest of the year?  After a long day fighting the “have it all” working mom fight – I might just pour a big glass of wine, close the blinds, and give in to the power of the suit.


Filed under musing

3 responses to “What really happens when the shades go down.

  1. The mother-in-law

    Keri, You are so funny! You could be the next Erma Bombeck. Or as young as you are, do you even know who she is?

    • ::blushing:: Oh yes, I know Erma Bombeck’s work – that is high praise, indeed! I am glad you enjoy my little slice of suburban insanity. I’m thinking your grandson needs a tiny Toddler version of the velour track suit, so we can nap together in them. 🙂

      Thanks for reading, and for the very flattering comparison!

  2. Pingback: A towel too far. Just Sayin’. | Reluctantly Suburban

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