Wednesday, June 9, 2010

The Outfit Wars

Lately, we have had daily battles with our kids over their clothes.  We fight the Outfit War on multiple fronts.  Here we lay out strategies for the various battles we are confronted with.

Battle I: Snowpants are Not For Summer
Do you really think you can slip this one past me? I hear that zipzopzipzopzipzop before you even make it down the hall. Those things are lined with 87 layers of fleece, neoprene and that crazy can't-get-them-wet chemical shellacking all over it. You wear those in June and the walk home is going to be like the one-boy Bataan Death March. Baby, you only weigh 62 pounds. Tack on the mile to school and the mile home from school and you'll come back at a mind-melting 14 pounds and wonder why your shoes are full of water since it didn't rain the whole day.

I'm sticking with safety here. And trying desperately to shy away from the fact that clothing that makes noise while you wear it is just unneccessary. They make enough sound all on their own. I don't need a built in soundtrack courtesy of our friends at Osh Kosh and Garanimals. This includes clothing that emits animal sounds, light saber sounds, theme songs, anything related to "having a cow, man" and, my personal hell, farting sounds. Yes, we had a shirt like that. With the specific instructions "Hand Wash" and dry flat. Oops. I'm also pretty sure the instructions didn't suggest stomping on it. But the death throes of the farting were pretty funny.

Battle 2: You Will Not Leave This House Looking Like a Bratz Doll
This includes tying the back of your t-shirt with a pony tail holder to make it tighter.  Or wearing pants so tight they are technically tights.  Or so low, you show a coin slot large enough for dvd's.  Or wear anything you have self-tailored with a pair of scissors. You are not Christian Siriano, and, even if you were, Heidi would think it's a hot mess.  Or, say anything that includes the phrase "...but my friends..." because that makes me want to retort with the whole jumping-off-a-cliff BS that I heard as a kid and I am not going to be that kind of mother OK dammit so just CHANGE your Lindsay Lohan skanky outfit! 

And this is why we need uniforms at school.

Batle 3: Mommy Likes It So It Sucks
Why is it that, because I happen to think you look charming or nice or handsome or pretty or whatever adjective I employ to describe your current ensemble, you immediately find the need to change? Do you prefer the slight grimace that is followed by my grawing on my tongue to keep my mouth shut. Yes, it's true. If it's weather appropriate and we're not headed to church, I keep my mouth shut. Stupid me and my stupid mantra: "What you put IN your body is way more important than what you put ON your body..."

Let's just agree that this outfit is a Hardee's Big Slabbo with extra mayo, six slices of bacon, no vegetables whatsoever and all dumped in batter and deep-fried. You walk out of the house in this, and you're probably going to give someone a heart attack. Most likely your dad. And, I think I'm to the point that I'm willing to bribe you to change back...possibly with a Big Slabbo...

Battle 4:  You DO Have Something to Wear, Just Not THAT
Why can't you wear that shirt?  Because you wore it yesterday.  And because you used it to wipe your mouth when it was covered in ketchup.  And what's even more bizarre is that you put it back in your drawer last night.  Dirty clothes go where?  That's right!  Say it with me: in the hamper.  So why did you fold and put away a shirt so dirty that it crunches when you touch it?

Also, can you NOT be the kid who wears a Star Wars t-shirt every single day?  I know you love Star Wars.  Everyone who knows you is aware of that fact.  But really? Luke needs a day off.

Battle 5: Whose Is That?
You came into the kitchen the other morning wearing stuff I've never seen before. And, let's see, in the past two day, we haven't been shopping and you haven't received your allowance. We went to a movie and your friend Sammy came ov--ewww. Really? You swapped clothes? I would ask why, but my forehead is just now healing from the Wall Therapy I had to do last week when you thought you'd be helpful by scuffing up the RED SOLES of my brand new shoes so I wouldn't slip. Just so we're clear, on this front, I'd rather the whole world be one big giant ice rink and take my chances, than risk the ire of a certain Christian. As for the other, unless you're risking public nudity, we don't borrow other people's clothes. Besides, she's bigger than you. What did she wear home? Oh, my stuff...of course. Super.

Battle 5: Are You and Randy Trying to Make Me Lose My Mind?

My daughter wants to change her clothes ten times a day. Jammies. School clothes. After school clothes. Maybe another outfit if there's an activity involved (riding bikes, piano lessons). Then she's too hot or too cold and needs to change again. If I did not restrain my child - she would wear every article of clothes in her closet in one day. It's like she's trying to make extra laundry for me to do. NO. No no no no. I will not have that. You will wear one outfit or I will lose my schmidt.

Battle 7: Introducing the Bra
McGee, welcome to the world of boobs. Little ones, I'll grant you. They may not amount to more than just overscratched mosquito bites, but with them comes a whole new set of skirmishes. You must wear some sort of undergarment, be it a sports bra, camisole, or one of the fleet of actual little girl bras we Santa got you for Christmas. Seeing you in a skinny white t-shirt and nothing underneath Let's leave it at that, OK. As for the bras, please consider color coordinating, as a bright green bra under a pale pink t-shirt may be intriguing and rebellious, but not when your ten. When you're ten, it just makes people think your mom is Madonna circa 1985. And, that's bad for my image.

Battle 9: Hole In One
I know you love that/those shirt/pants/socks/boxers. Frankly, I do too. I remember when I bought it for you. But, dear, it has a hole in it that, thanks to your adventurous toe/finger/fist you've made into a temporary holding facility for a can of beer. As for those pants that have the "magic pockets" because you can put something in there and it suddenly appears on the top of your shoe? It's an impressive trick, but good Lord I wonder how much fussing about you had to do to widen that hole, and what the congregation was thinking you were doing in church. Finally, for the boxers and tighty-whities that somehow join this elite rank of troops marching to the rubbish bins, what. did. you. do? Scratch that. Never mind. I think I would rather stick to my theory that your farts are just that foul. Anything more than that will turn me into more of a hand-washing, Purel freak. Or, force me to contain you in a hyberbaric transparent ball like that hamster in Bolt. Which would not BE AWESOME.

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