Miss Mom: Two options for dressing the resident octopus

The other day I was attempting to dress the resident runaway octopus — aka my granddaughter — when I had a flashback. The memories that came to the forefront of my brain was how difficult it used to be to get my youngest daughter, Megan, dressed when she was small. This is the same child who’s fashion sense now shows me up for the clearance rack fashion disaster that I am, and who has more clothes than her dresser and closet combined can hold — or so she claims. (The reality is that somehow the closet and the dresser are apparently allergic to her clothes and promptly regurgitate clothing in a projectile manner.)

When Megan was a toddler, changing her from jammies to day clothes was a major accomplishment. If she had her way, she’d stay in whatever she was wearing at the time for a week straight. Changing into another outfit was so inconvenient in her little personal world-view. Therefore I was left with two options: To help her pick out an outfit of her choosing; or make her wear something of my choosing.

I have it on video what happens with option number one. There is little Megan in all her adorable blond-haired glory, ready to go play. And there is me, the trying-so-hard-to-be-patient mom, pulling out every single outfit the child owns to see if something — anything — will appeal to her. In the video, she delightfully pulls out a stringed-style belt to wear, nothing else is remotely worth putting on that body, she decides. My husband wisely turns off the video camera for what happens next: Option number two.

In option two, I pick out an outfit that will suit the day and the weather for my child. I then grab Megan put her on the bed and proceed to take off the clothes she is currently wearing. That is the easy part. By now she’s figured out what is going to happen next and is not at all happy. With her screaming and kicking, I put on pants, socks and shirt, while she is attempting to pull of the same pants, socks and shirt. Finally, after a couple of rounds of the Dress the Kid Death Match, Megan is dressed and asking for breakfast.

This routine occurred off and on until Megan entered kindergarten, when she received her favorite outfit. This was a Tweety and Sylvester t-shirt and some little black stretchy shorts. Megan loved that outfit so much. She wanted to wear it every single day. She still hadn’t quite outgrown option number one when it came to getting dressed, but she chose option two less and less. That little outfit was the most laundered clothing in my house. Yes, sometimes moms have to pick their battles. Getting my youngest to wear something other then that outfit was a fight I was fast losing.

Before too long, the inevitable happened: The shirt and shorts started looking pretty raggedy, and she outgrew the shirt completely. I gladly put the items in the bag of clothing I had set aside to send to charity. A couple of days later, Megan walked by wearing her Tweety and Sylvester shirt and those black shorts. I explained to her that the clothes were too small, and needed to be given away. She conceded, or so I thought. The shirt she allowed me to give away for good, but for two more years those shorts made random appearances on her body. I tried to give them away or throw them away, but like an unwelcome relative, the kept showing up unannounced. Eventually the shorts finally made a worn out exit about the time she hit third grade.

Ironically, these days Megan often comes to me asking me if what she has on looks nice, then rejects my opinion and changes outfits.

Sylvie Galloway is a Spartanburg-based writer and blogger. You can read more of her work at Sylvie is a blogger.