Clothing Woes
Colin is growing like a weed. He's slim as a rail (and strong as an ox) with washboard abs, and legs that would make a giraffe envious. This means that finding clothing that fits well is an issue.
By Christmas-time all of his size-8 pants were getting to be way too short, so I advised the grandparents that he needed new pants. Size 10 pants. For my SEVEN year old son. Lord help me. Now, he's tall but he also has about 3% body fat (and washboard abs that most men would kill to have), which means we must have pants with an adjustable waist.
In all he probably a whole new wardrobe of pants for Christmas - khakis, jeans, and some track pants. .. all with the lovely adjustable waist. I figured the kid was set for the rest of the school year, and probably good for next fall.
Jump forward, 3 months later.
Almost every pair of pants has holes in the knees. The few that don't have been languishing in his drawer because they "don't fit" according to Mr. Picky-pants. If he's forced to wear the pants that "don't fit" he is fine as soon as he starts doing something and forgets to whine about his pants. But it would be easier to convince a cat to put on a SCUBA suit than it is to get him to put on pants he has decided he doesn't like.
We have the same issue with him in regard to shirts, jackets, shoes, and occasionally underpants. It has become so bad lately that I now start trying to get him ready to leave at least 30 minutes before we actually need to be out the door. And often THAT isn't long enough.
Example 1: Wednesday night Colin was playing outside. I called him in at 4:05PM because he needed to get ready as he was going to have a baseball practice that night while I performed the "parental service" required by Little League. This was a big bonus for him - while I was working Coach Mike agreed to spend one-on-one time with Colin and his son TJ (the mom was also going to be doing service). So the whole night was all about him. At 4:25 he still had on his school pants, did not have on shoes, or a jacket, and had removed his socks. I eventually told him to get ready and went out to the car to wait for him. We made it all the way to the baseball fields and ONLY THEN did he realize that he didn't have his baseball backpack (with his glove and bat).
Example 2: Thursday night Colin had a baseball practice, and I was going to take a class at the gym before then. He spent 35 minutes complaining about his cup/underwear (THIS IS STOOOPID!) and his jacket (IT DOESN'T FIT). For the record, he prefers boxer-briefs and the underwear was just a "standard" pair of briefs, and he didn't like his jacket because the sleeves of his shirt rode up when he put it on. His shoes also "don't fit" because he tightened the laces too tightly. And didn't have the sense to just loosen the dang things up. I finally grabbed his backpack and jacket and again went out to the car to wait, informing him that if I was late to my class he would miss his practice.
And as he continued to complain bitterly about his clothing in the car I lost my patience. The very last shred of my composure tore and I went on a bit of a tirade. It sounded something like this:
Colin, are you listening? Right now. Eyes and ears. Becuase I'm not going to say this again. Effective IMMEDIATELY I do not care about your clothes. I don't care about your shirt, your jacket, your underpants, your sock, your shoes, or anything else you put on your body. I don't care if it is too big, too small, doesn't fit right, isn't comfy, is out of style, or looks stupid. When it is time to get dressed, you GET DRESSED. Without complaining or whining. If you're miserable keep it to yourself because I DON'T CARE. As long as you're not bleeding I don't want to hear about it. Is that clear?
I doubt it will last, but in that moment there was an expression on his face that told me he very clearly understood that he was now dealing with Crazy Mom who was completely done with his shenanigans. Honestly, I thought having boys I wouldn't have to dela with this...
By Christmas-time all of his size-8 pants were getting to be way too short, so I advised the grandparents that he needed new pants. Size 10 pants. For my SEVEN year old son. Lord help me. Now, he's tall but he also has about 3% body fat (and washboard abs that most men would kill to have), which means we must have pants with an adjustable waist.
In all he probably a whole new wardrobe of pants for Christmas - khakis, jeans, and some track pants. .. all with the lovely adjustable waist. I figured the kid was set for the rest of the school year, and probably good for next fall.
Jump forward, 3 months later.
Almost every pair of pants has holes in the knees. The few that don't have been languishing in his drawer because they "don't fit" according to Mr. Picky-pants. If he's forced to wear the pants that "don't fit" he is fine as soon as he starts doing something and forgets to whine about his pants. But it would be easier to convince a cat to put on a SCUBA suit than it is to get him to put on pants he has decided he doesn't like.
We have the same issue with him in regard to shirts, jackets, shoes, and occasionally underpants. It has become so bad lately that I now start trying to get him ready to leave at least 30 minutes before we actually need to be out the door. And often THAT isn't long enough.
Example 1: Wednesday night Colin was playing outside. I called him in at 4:05PM because he needed to get ready as he was going to have a baseball practice that night while I performed the "parental service" required by Little League. This was a big bonus for him - while I was working Coach Mike agreed to spend one-on-one time with Colin and his son TJ (the mom was also going to be doing service). So the whole night was all about him. At 4:25 he still had on his school pants, did not have on shoes, or a jacket, and had removed his socks. I eventually told him to get ready and went out to the car to wait for him. We made it all the way to the baseball fields and ONLY THEN did he realize that he didn't have his baseball backpack (with his glove and bat).
Example 2: Thursday night Colin had a baseball practice, and I was going to take a class at the gym before then. He spent 35 minutes complaining about his cup/underwear (THIS IS STOOOPID!) and his jacket (IT DOESN'T FIT). For the record, he prefers boxer-briefs and the underwear was just a "standard" pair of briefs, and he didn't like his jacket because the sleeves of his shirt rode up when he put it on. His shoes also "don't fit" because he tightened the laces too tightly. And didn't have the sense to just loosen the dang things up. I finally grabbed his backpack and jacket and again went out to the car to wait, informing him that if I was late to my class he would miss his practice.
And as he continued to complain bitterly about his clothing in the car I lost my patience. The very last shred of my composure tore and I went on a bit of a tirade. It sounded something like this:
Colin, are you listening? Right now. Eyes and ears. Becuase I'm not going to say this again. Effective IMMEDIATELY I do not care about your clothes. I don't care about your shirt, your jacket, your underpants, your sock, your shoes, or anything else you put on your body. I don't care if it is too big, too small, doesn't fit right, isn't comfy, is out of style, or looks stupid. When it is time to get dressed, you GET DRESSED. Without complaining or whining. If you're miserable keep it to yourself because I DON'T CARE. As long as you're not bleeding I don't want to hear about it. Is that clear?
I doubt it will last, but in that moment there was an expression on his face that told me he very clearly understood that he was now dealing with Crazy Mom who was completely done with his shenanigans. Honestly, I thought having boys I wouldn't have to dela with this...
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