Clothes: an often crucial factor of daily life, except for nudists and young children who have learned how to pull them off and discard them at every free opportunity. The world of fashion is a major industry. Clothes can be traditional, they can tell a story about who you are without you ever speaking a word, and yet most days, they’re just one more thing to worry about -- do I have to redo laundry?

Can I match that top with those bottoms? Do these shoes ruin the entire look? Will people judge me for wearing (fill in the blank) to (fill in the blank)? I can tell you one of the first things I ditched when I became a mom was my sense of fashion, which I only ever pretended to have anyways. My new standards for dress became: comfort, ease, and its ability to camouflage a variety of substances I’d rather not talk about.

For the most part: I regret nothing! I spend so little money on clothing, it’s ridiculous! And I walk around comfortably, like, all of the time. The only one who ever guilts me about my decision to disengage from society's ever-changing trends-my older sister, typically as she’s awkwardly tottering on 6-inch stilettos while trying not to let her entire jumpsuit fall on the floor of a public restroom.

I mean, come on. I think all of this pent up aggression originates from her feet and the fact that they have been in pain for the past two decades. I happily wear - whatever I want. I do try to dress “up” when appropriate, but the criteria for me feeling comfortable and confident remains consistent.

Something else I have given up: the fear of wearing an outfit more than once. Because: who the freak cares? Those kind of sentiments were cooked up ages ago by marketing wizards and spoonfed to generation after generation of people who want to appear wealthy and elite enough to discard an outfit every time they wear it.

Pshhh. I won’t even discard my favorite yoga pants until the second time the seams give out on the inside thighs (I sew them up the first time). The toughest aspect of getting ready these days: finding clean clothes, and finding pants without holes.

More than for the sake of my comfort and sanity, I’m hoping to instill in my kids a sense of confidence that is not rooted in the superficial. Sure, I still draw the line on shoes that are falling apart, or wearing snow pants in triple-digit weather, but I've learned to let most other absurd clothing choices slide.

Some days, I will run errands with a kid wearing crocs and two types of plaid, others I will have to endure the most worn ou and wrinkled, but beloved character shirt that was found shoved at the back of his drawer. Why? Because there are enough power struggles between parents and children, and I don’t want something as trivial as clothing choices to be one of them.

I want my kids to be able to make their own decisions, to determine on their own what they think feels and looks good. Of course, I try my best to guide them into weather and occasion-appropriate choices, but ultimately I leave it up to them.

Because too many of my childhood memories of special occasions involve the stress of everyone miserably looking “good.” I want different memories for my children. We may not always be color-coordinating in our family photos, but at least we are all genuinely smiling.