It’s 7:30am and about 57 degrees outside on a Friday morning.
“Mom, look! I’m all dressed!” F says proudly as I get ready to jump in the shower. AWESOME, I think to myself, relived that this part of our morning routine is now out of the way. That is, until she walks around the corner and shows off her outfit: a tank top and capri-length leggings. Thus begins our daily conversation about clothes that are weather-appropriate and the ensuing whining that accompanies it. Are we out the door yet?
A long time ago, we decided to let F choose her outfits because it feels like a simple way for her to express herself and get creative. Little did we know that it would turn into an almost-daily source of frustration. I have a friend who, every night, chooses two outfits for her daughter, and in the morning, her daughter gets to choose one to wear. She (wisely) started this early so now her daughter is used to it – that is the norm. Us, on the other hand? There’s no going back – I’ve tried. The first morning it was successful, but after that it turned into “But I want to wear THIS dress with THESE tights, NOT THOSE!” And while I realize I am supposed to be consistent and stand my ground, when we have 10 minutes to get out the door and I’m still dripping wet and the lunches aren’t packed yet? Something’s gotta give, and the clothes situation is the first to go. As long as she’s dressed (relatively) appropriately for the weather, I have just let it go.
I can’t be the only parent who struggles with their kid or kids over clothes, and I welcome any ideas. I have to admit, her choices of outfits are pretty awesome in their randomness. I love them because I know that what to me seems random is to her a perfect match. I love that she does get to be creative and express herself with her choices. What I don’t love is the struggles we have almost every morning about what is and isn’t ok to wear for the day. Sorry F, but a tank top and jellies are not going to cut it when it’s raining.
Someday, I know we’ll look back on these days and we’ll laugh. Probably the same way my mom laughs when she looks back on the time I wore a leather dress in 1989 to prom.
Or, wait. I think she’s crying, actually. Sorry mom!! I AM SO SORRY. 😉