All in Motion
I remember when I used to pick out their first day of school outfits. Usually some kind of denim bottoms, paired with some kind of trendy shirt from H&M.
I don’t even try this year.
The grandmas take the kids back to school shopping while Brett and I are out of town. When we get home, Everett says, “Mom, I can’t wait to show you all my new clothes.” And I just stand there staring at him, my giant firstborn who is suddenly as tall as my chin, in disbelief that he is actually excited about clothes. He pulls me over to the shoe rack that sits by the front door and proudly shows me his brand new black sneakers.
“Look,” he says, “They’re All in Motion. That’s my favorite brand.”
His favorite brand. My 10-year-old son has a favorite brand.
I, of course, know all about All in Motion, the in-house Target brand that specializes in athletic wear. A year or so ago, I noticed how much Everett loved their shirts, most of which are made from some kind of silky wick material. Overnight, it seemed, Everett stopped wearing every cotton shirt in his drawer, opting instead to wear one of his two sporty All in Motion tees on repeat. I’ve been buying them for him ever since, every time they go on sale.
The night before the first day of school, I set out on a PMS-induced cleaning rampage through their room. Two months ago, we gave the boys a room makeover — re-painted the walls, hung up new posters, bought a new storage cubby from IKEA, etc. Two months ago, their room was immaculate, everything in its place.
I’ll let you guess how long that lasted.
Alas, I’ve always considered the first day of school to be a fresh start. I dump everything out of their shared dresser, which is overflowing with new clothes from the grandmas. I fold all of the shorts and t-shirts and place them carefully in the drawers, setting aside sweaters and jogger pants to go in the boys’ under-the-bed storage bags, since it’s 98 degrees and we won’t be needing heavy layers for a while.
As I sort through the clothes on the floor, I grab a few old shirts and hold them up for Everett to re-evaluate. When new clothes come in, old clothes go out, I remind the kids. Everett looks thoughtfully at each shirt I hold up and then he asks, “What brand is it?”
Every All in Motion shirt he opts to keep. A few others get passed down to Carson, and the rest go into the donation pile.
I tell the boys to pick out their clothes for the first day of school, and Everett arranges his outfit on the floor in what I can only describe as an influencer-level flat lay. All in Motion shirt. All in Motion shorts. All in Motion shoes. Carson follows suit, making his own little flat lay on the floor to match his brother’s.
On the first day of school, they get dressed with ease, and while their outfits are not what I would have picked, they both look good. Happy. Confident.
I take a picture of them on the porch. They humor me and smile, even though they desperately want to get to school early to play with their friends before the bell rings. I take a minute to soak it all in: Carson’s missing tooth, their matching Golden State Warriors hats, Everett’s head to toe All in Motion outfit.
Where did the summer go? Where did the last ten years go? This is Everett’s final year of elementary school. They won’t be on the same campus again until Everett is a senior in high school. That thought makes me want to weep.
They let me walk them into campus, for one more picture by the school sign. They smile begrudgingly, the way kids do when they’re really thinking, Mom, seriously?!
“Can we go now?!” Everett asks impatiently.
I nod my head. I give them one more hug. Remind them to be kind. Have a great first day, I whisper. I love you, I love you, I love you.
