Parenting and Pants

I have learned that I am systematically ruining my eight year old’s life. He believes I move his stuff just to upset him and make him late.  I must stretch his long legs in the night but keep him thin so pants are simultaneously too big around the waist but too short. Apparently, I am horrible for believing him when he tells me the night before that the reason he is not in bed is that he is picking out his clothes for the next day. The absolutely  worst most unforgivable sin is not making sure that the two pairs of pants he deems worthy are clean and placed on his body the millisecond he decides that they are what he needs to complete his mismatched athletic ensemble. He tends to feel all his feelings out loud and at my face. Transitioning to leaving the house tend to cause hysteria and clothing has been an issue for years. 

This middle boy has beautiful clothes. Many new and many handed down from big brother. Early morning clothing fits are nothing new in this house. I used to plan outfits and put them in labeled bins in his room. It worked if he liked what I picked out. His preferences changed day to day and without warning so it is impossible to only lay out clothes he likes to wear. Some outfits would stay in the labeled bins until I either forced him to wear it or gave in because I decided that day was the day to “pick my battles.” I have a full time job and two other people to take care of so I do not have time for solving the outfit Davinci Code every day.

The hysteria used to get to me. I would also end up sweaty, red faced, and hoarse from yelling.  I am also not too proud to say that I have also cried during some of these drama-filled breakdowns. With experience comes exhaustion disguised as clarity.

As I was taking my second sip of coffee my beautiful boy arrived in the living room wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt paired with black boxer briefs. I commented that I liked his outfit for school. He retorted that he has NO pants. Because I do the laundry and purchase most of his clothing, I knew this to be untrue. We debated his comment and there was general fit of disrespect and indignation. The clock was ticking and there was not a lot of time left before his bus arrived to talk him off the ledge so that meant I had to help cover up his little bumper. I was informed that none of the pairs of pants in his drawer fit.  In my attempt to help find suitable attire for my “diva prince” I discovered that some of the pants were indeed too big for him. The other pants in his drawer were apparently made of sandpaper and nails, so I did what any other self-respecting mother does in this type of time sensitive delicate operation.

I calmly walked over to his fancy clothes hamper and I proceed to bend down with my sleep crusted eyes and numb hands; I then carefully picked up the hamper and dumped that sh&* all over the floor. The next step in locating suitable pants is very important to accurately complete in these types of high-risk situations. I proceeded to pick up a pair of black athletic pants. I very gingerly performed a visual inspection for signs of actual mud, dirt, marker, or dampness. They passed this first level of inspection. Then I proceeded into the final step.  The nasal inspection, more commonly referred to as the “sniff test”.  This test has very dire consequences if the garment is not suitable for wearing in public.

This is a strict three-step process. 

Step One:  Hold the item by two fingers away from your face approximately 12 full inches from your nostrils. If you cannot detect a foul odor, it has passed step one.

Step 2:  Slowly bring the garment closer to your face and gently waft the item in the air. If you do not get smacked in the face by nasty green cartoon air, then and only then, do you throw caution to the wind and proceed to step 3.

Step 3: Carefully place your face on/in the garment for final approval and inhale only the necessary amount of air to sense if the piece is acceptable to wear out in polite society.

I am a rebel, a bad ass if you will. Today I just yanked the pants out of the huge pile on the floor and thrust my face all up on them and inhaled like I was smelling fresh sheets out of the dryer. The Lord Jesus was with me this morning and the pants were completely fine and knowing this particular person, could have been clean. I ignored the “I am not cleaning that up” comment from Captain Underpants and left his room.

There will be consequences for today’s drama. I will suffer them dearly. Video games have been taken away from me so now I will have to parent the whole damn weekend.