Wardrobe Malfunctions

Dress-up weeks are a mixed bag. On the one hand, they are terrific because you don't have to deliberate too long on "what to wear". On the other hand, getting every detail of your outfit ready can take a long time. I thought we had it all covered when the kids went to bed Wednesday night, all outfits ready for Thursday's dress-like-a-favorite-book-character day. Ally had cut out "Camp Half-Blood" letters for Annabeth's orange shirt; Cy had his Greg Hefley "Kick Me" sign taped to the back of his Wimpy Kid shirt; Paige had her red shirt, pink skirt, and sunglasses for Junie B. Jones, and Shae had a striped shirt and sunglass frames for another version of Junie B. All set to go.

Yesterday morning dawned sunny and fair. Tuesdays and Thursdays are a little more relaxed because the bus arrives 5 minutes later due to an extra family who only rides on those days. Therefore, I was certain everything would go routinely in our pre-school preparations for the day. I was wrong. Oh, was I wrong.

Paige and Shae were especially excited to dress up like their favorite Junie B., the little ragamuffin/first grade upstart girl brought to life in oodles of chapter books that line the shelves and floor of the twins' room. No one was fighting over who got to wear what top or pair of jeans; all was right with the world until Ally made a comment. Just a comment, but a fateful statement that would shatter the peacefulness of our morning.

"Those sunglasses are pretty fashionable, Paige."

Now a rational person would take that to be a compliment. But a high-strung, stubborn 6-year-old is not often deemed "rational". So Ally's little comment set off a chain of events which can only be understood by parents of difficult children. (Oops! Did I say "difficult"? I meant "strong-willed." Thank you, Dr. Dobson;)

"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRARRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" (or however you spell a deep grumble/grunt by feisty little girl)

"What's the matter, honey?" (in my best June Cleaver calm voice)

"Ally said my sunglasses are too fashionable!!!!"

"What's wrong with being fashionable? That's a good thing!"

"Junie B. is silly! She isn't supposed to be fashionable!!!! I want Shae's glasses!! Waaaaaaaa-haaaaaaaaaa!!!! (or however you spell a whiny cry)

Then I proceeded to do something very, very stupid. I tried reasoning with Paige in my best calm voice. I could feel another tantrum coming on, and I was doing my best to ward it off with reasoning. I tried explaining how Paige got the first pick of the sunglasses last night, that it wasn't fair to take Shae's when Shae was all ready to go to school, and that the "fashionable" sunglasses were far too nice to pop the dark shades out of (as we had done with Shae's cheapie frames). Now that I think of it, it kind of reminds me of the scene where Anastasia and Drizella have a hissy-fit about Cinderella wearing their cast-off sash and jewelry as she gets ready to go to the ball with them. A-ha!! Why didn't I think of THAT story when I needed it??

So anyway, back to reasoning with a high-strung 6-year-old (soon to be 7, but no matter). Paige would have none of it. I tried with zero success to get her in this picture of the kids. She's pouting on the bench behind them.

I kissed the other three children and sent them down the driveway to wait for the bus. I went out to the Suburban and dug around for old pairs of sunglasses. I was SURE I had seen some old sunglasses I could punch the shades out of and place on Paige's head. No luck. I returned to the house to more whining, crying, and general boneheadedness. At this point my voice began to raise and names were called, I am ashamed to admit. (No swearing; I gave that up for Lent! Just stuff like "bonehead" and "whiny bugger".) I kept wandering around the house, trying to find an old pair of sunglasses that might appease the little Roosie, all the while urging her to get her shoes and coat on or she was going to miss the bus. Somehow Paige produced an orange pair of sunglasses, which were really just the frame front - no temples (sides that hook around your ears). But wonder of wonders! They were silly enough and had no dark frames in them anymore! THESE would work!!!

"Get your coat and shoes on NOW!!! I'll be right back!!" I muttered as I ran upstairs (trying not to wake up Wynne) and dug through a craft box to find some pipe cleaners. Thank you, Jesus, for having me buy pipe cleaners last weekend in preparation for the twins' upcoming birthday party. (Which is undeserved at this point.) Lo and behold, there were even some MATCHNG ORANGE PIPE CLEANERS in there, which I frantically wound around the frame front and fashioned (oops! did I say fashioned? I meant silly and whimsically) into temples.

"Thank you." in her smallest, most contrite voice.

We ran out the door and saw no Cy, Ally, or Shae. The bus had come and gone.

I slammed my hand against the garage door and went back inside. I took the glasses and wound another pipe cleaner around each temple to strengthen it.

"Thank you." another tiny voice, this time with tears.

Like I said, parenthood is unconditional love. I love that little voice. I hate the whiny freak-out voice, but I love that little contrite voice. (And how can you not love seeing your daughter so relieved and happy, even after you just wanted to squeeze the big WHINY out of her??)

I think I'll add another definition to parenthood. Trying (and mostly failing) to ride the tidal wave of emotions inside of growing little bodies. And trying to keep all of those little bodies spinning happily at the same time!


Hear, my son, your father’s instruction, and forsake not your mother’s teaching, for they are a graceful garland for your head and pendants for your neck.--Proverbs 1:8-9 ESV