My littlest ones are deep in the throes of a quest for greater independence. This is only the start, I know. They’ll no doubt still be on this quest ten and twenty years hence, when my intelligence and sense of humor will have diminished in their eyes nearly to nothing. Now at least they think I’m funny. We’ve got another year or two of that blessing.
Recently the quest has lead them to seek increasing control of how and in what they dress themselves each day. The girl was given a third-hand dance costume consisting of a belly-baring shirt and a pair of tiny shorts, both in various neon colors and bespangled with sequins, beads and some sort of tenaciously glued-on glitter. If you could breathe this outfit instead of seeing it, unquestionably it would clear all congestion from the sinuses. I’ve viewed it for weeks now on a near-daily basis and it still makes me flinch to see her suddenly round the corner preceded by a flashy orange glow.
If you know anything at all about preschoolers you’ll have already guessed that this is her favorite outfit. She would wear it day and night if allowed. Her lower lip trembles when I demand that she dump it into the wash, then she asks for it every half-hour ’til it’s spit out once again.
When that outfit is unavailable she wants her “pretty dress,” which her father recently purchased for her one size smaller than what she actually needs. It fits, if by fits you mean that it can stretch over her skinny ribs. This is does, but only barely. What it does not do is adequately cover her legs, which grow at least a centimeter each day. It’s rapidly looking more shirt-like than dress-like; seeing her in it gives me flashes of fear as I imagine her going about in similar attire as a teenage starlet followed by paparazzi with lenses trained on her crotch. Not that I want my lil darling to be a starlet. But you just never know.
I won’t let her wear either outfit in public without some sort of pants under it, and her favorite pants to put under it are pink with green stripes. Bear in mind that the dress sports a white flower pattern on a red background. It’s quite a sight.
The boy, on the other hand, is fond of the layered look. He hates to take off pajamas, so quite often he simply piles his clothes on top. He will not accept help, nor does he grasp the concept that the tag belongs in the back. Therefore it’s not unusual for him to appear at breakfast looking like his head was screwed on the wrong way.
Neither one of them can tolerate socks, just like me. Getting them to wear socks is some days just too much. If they are shod I am happy. Shod correctly? That happens only about half the time. “I like my shoes on the wrong feet,” they say as patiently as if I were the foolish one, and I’ve given up trying to explain orthopedics and podiatry to people more interested in the WonderPets than metatarsals.
“I know his pants are on backwards,” I’ve had to tell well-meaning strangers as we walked through the grocery store. “Yes, she likes her shoes on the wrong feet,” I’ve said to others. Half the time I scold myself for allowing them to look dress like deranged ragamuffins, but the rest of the time I realize that the way to independence involves a whole lot of detours through backwards t-shirts and tennis shoes.
For a long time, my son insisted that, in order to match, both shoes had to be left shoes. He happily wore shoes from mismatched pairs, along with his big sister’s Hello Kitty outfits.
Conformity is too easily learned in life. Kudos for teaching them independence and self-respect. :)
You are such an awesome mother.
peace…
Oh AAG, I love your posts about your children. With mine about to go off in the world it gives me nostalsgic spine rushes. Especially that my uber-responsible 17-year old daughter is going through such angst pre-university months and blasting it all my way. She was never anti-mom — suddenly I am the devil’s own.
You are sending me back in time. Painful. But funny. Socks and pretty dresses. Clogged toilets. Ruined doors. Painting. Etc etc. And pretty dresses (more) and clothing choices… I was SO anal. Present the children right. That will show you are raising them right. I remember that turning point when I realized it really didn’t matter. They were happy no matter their mismatched fiascos. And they’ve both grown into their own styles. Neither one of which involves the ass-crack for the boy or premature slut wear for the girl. (And that was not a comment against slut wear when appropriate.)
As mine prepare to leave… You are giving me a serious gift of the past. Thanks.
Mine went through the better part of a year wearing a Tigger costume everytime we went grocery shopping and let’s face it, I’m in no position to comment on anyones clothing choices.
sss
I so remember the layered thing. I once discovered my son had on 3 pairs of underwear.
Rest assured that they do indeed grow out of it.
The boy child regularly wears his shirts backwards (but mom I don’t want to look at that picture on my belly!) and his shoes on the wrong feet (but they are comfortable for me mommy.) Sometimes he wears his sister’s clothes (I like silky mommy – there are days when I am pretty sure I’m watching the birth of a fetish.)
The girl child looks a lot like rainbow brite. She stands before me in a plaid dress with contrasting striped tights and her favorite high heeled shoes and tells me confidently that she’s pretty. The girls at school have started questioning her fashion sense – at 7 – but I will defend her beauty in choosing what she likes that feels good to wear over their spangled teenager in training wear any day. To the death if necessary.
Happily I will report that I was in a meeting with one of the groups responsible for important school stuff and one of the teachers stressed the importance of parents giving their kids the opportunity to take charge in their little lives. She specifically cited letting them dress themselves and respecting their choices as long as they weren’t going to freeze to death or fall into some other harm. Amen!
I hope you are taking pictures of them to bribe them with later down the line ;)
Kidding of course. And, yes, you are fostering their ability for self-expression as well as their autonomy. You are a good mommy!!!
xo~Sadie
One saving grace is that most people won’t think you picked out the clothes yourself. My younger one liked to wear one dress atop another, even if you couldn’t see it, and often forgot to put panties on underneath (I have driven home from school and day camp to get some many times). The older one has a particular outfit for every day of the week. I teasingly suggested we buy her underwear with the days of the week on them (something I would never be caught dead in as a kid) and she thought that was a great idea.
Carry extra shoes in the car, and panties and glory in their self-expression. One of my girls spent two whole years wearing nothing but red glitter shoes, ala Dorothy. Do you know how hard those are to get when it’s not Easter or Halloween?!
I convinced my four-year-old boys to get their shoes on the correct feet by telling them they would get blisters if worn on the wrong feet. It works, most of the time. The rest I just don’t worry about.
One of them is now in a phase where the socks must be “just right”. That means that the writing must be on the bottom, and the sock line must not run over the edge of his foot.
Oh, and the toddler daughter pronounces “socks” as “cocks”. It’s always funny to tell her she has her brothers’ cocks.
I am a firm believer that if you give them rope in terms of expressing themselves in ways like that then they will feel the need to take less rope in other ways. Who would want every aspect of their life every day controlled? And who would put up with it without pushing back as much as possible? It really is adorable anyway…