Day 1: I am not the fashion police

It was hard to get up this morning - the weekend was pretty tiring! As I slowly got up, I realized daughter was no where to be seen... did she oversleep? As I stood at the bottom of the stairs and began yelling for her, slowly it crept into my mind that I was on the Daughter Dare. Oh yeah. I heard her yell that she was up, and instead of demanding to see what she was wearing, I left the stairs and began my day.

I admit, I am the self-proclaimed fashion police of my home. It is the big fish in a small pond phenomenon; in the real world I don't stand out by any means as a Sex in the City fashionista or a Vogue trendsetter. But in my home, I know what NOT to wear, and I am as ruthless as Simon Cowell. It began with citations for flagrant violations - the daughter trying to wear sweatpants to school; putting on shirts that were too short because she had outgrown them; or wearing a sweatshirt when it was 80 degrees outside. But slowly, over time, it became more about color coordination. Or preventing daughter from wearing the same three shirts all month long. And things that were once passable became horrible, and I was sending the poor girl upstairs to change on a daily basis.

But I want to change. So today, when daughter came down in pink plaid bermuda shorts and her white and pick baseball jersey, with a black and white polka dotted tank top underneath, I smiled. Last week, the black and white polka dotted tank top would have been an instant pullover; but today - well really, who cares? I did make a swimsuit change - I am 99% sure the one she chose would be borderline obscene because of how much she's grown - but that is a good, just reason to impose my police power. Polka dots is similar to going five miles over the speed limit - an infraction, but who has time to deal with them?

And I admit, today daughter and I had some good rapport. We're off to a good start.