Back when I played Nanny Lara to my beloved Bubbers, I brought a change of clothes with me every single day, "just in case." At the time, he was still a baby, and a barfy baby at that. But my Bubs was partial to his dad when it came to regurgitation, so he always saved it up and spewed his milk or peas or carrots or bananas all over the paternal unit. Never once did I need my change of clothes.
These days, I work with older kids. In my new job, Older Child is almost five years old, and Younger Child is two and a half. Not only do I not have to bring an extra set of clothes with me, I actually wear normal clothes, as opposed to the sweatpants and old t-shirts I used to wear with Bubbers. I can wear sweaters, jeans, wide-leg trousers, button-down blouses - anything I want, really, and I like looking good, even if I am staying on the casual side of looking good. Today, for example, I wore medium-rinse jeans, an olive turtleneck sweater, and cream-colored sneakers, looking professional, but relaxed.
Nice jeans. Nice sweater. No change of clothes.
You see where this is going, don't you?
Yep, I got puked on. Quite a lot, actually. And what had he had for lunch before puking? A LOT of carrot juice. So I got puked on in a vibrant shade of orange.
And you know what? I still adore my job, even if lawyers probably don't have to clean partially-digested carrot juice out of their work clothes.