Saturday, November 28, 2015

Battle of Clothes, Thanksgiving, and The Nutcracker

Friday, 11/27/15, 10:06pm and Saturday, 11/28/15, 2:04pm

RG is obsessed with shorts. He insists on wearing shorts in 30 degree weather even though he knows it's too freezing. He warms up by "becoming mini" when he crouches down and puts his t-shirt over his legs. He knows this drives me crazy. I tell him every time I catch him doing it. And I berate him for choosing to wear shorts. The one rule I really stand by is he has to wear long pants if it's snowing. I'll also enforce that rule if it's literally 0 degrees outside. It's a semi compromise if I can get him to wear tall socks, and it's a major win if he wears running tights under his shorts.

So I let him wear shorts when it's 30 degrees and windy and every other kid at the bus stop has a winter coat and hat. And I feel like I have to explain myself to the other moms. "You pick your battles, right?" I say. Or "I figured one of these days he would learn that he gets cold! Hasn't learned yet!" Because there is judgement when you see a child under 10 17 wearing shorts when it's 30 degrees and windy. You automatically look at the parent and think "Really, you let him out of the house like that?". And I know plenty of moms sympathize and that helps so much, but then you get the parent who just has to give some helpful advice. I know, it's meant to be nice, and it can be done tactfully, but it usually just turns into criticism in my head.

RG also doesn't like wearing "nice clothes". He prefers mesh gym shorts and a dry-wick type shirt. So here's the thing, it's already next to impossible to get him to wear long pants, but even then, they have to be the athletic or sweatpant variety. He hasn't worn jeans or khakis or the like in several years. We've talked about how some schools have dress codes and the poor kid can't imagine going to a school where he had to wear khakis and a collared shirt everyday. But again, the fight just isn't worth it anymore. He wears what he wants to wear and is happy. Do I really care about something so trivial?

Today he wore jeans and a long-sleeved graphic tee to go to the Nutcracker with the family. I brought it up about a week ago that I wanted him to wear what I asked him to wear for pictures at Thanksgiving and the Nutcracker the next day. And he totally agreed. Maybe he's realized that mom has become cool with his clothing choices most of the time.

To hell with any judgement. Why do people care so much about clothing anyway??

Like I said, we saw the Nutcracker today. It was a little stressful keeping the kids happy and answering their whisperings, "who is that guy?" "when's the sugar plum fairy?" "I'm bored." I want my kids to be a little more cultured; I want them to have an appreciation for arts and music. And we really try. And I wouldn't say we're failing. RG definitely has some favorite parts to the Nutcracker: the Russian dance, the Sugar Plum Fairy, and the mice (he says he wants to be one). And that's really special to see.

Oh, and yesterday, Thanksgiving, was my birthday. Made for an on edge day. I don't like sharing my birthday with a holiday. It was fine, it was nice, it just wasn't MY day. We're making up for that by having lots of extras for me this weekend. :) Things like baths, workouts, phone calls with friends. They also happen to be good for my depression too.

I've started the process of sharing this blog with a few people, and I'm just going to be honest about it; it's hard. It's hard letting people see yourself in this honest, bare way. One of the ways I break down my internal stigma about my depression is I share my depression with others. Every additional friend or acquaintance or co-worker I've told has been a breath of fresh air. And it's gotten easier as I go. I'm at a point where I want to share this part of my life with those who don't know yet but I haven't quite figured out how to do it. I suspect this blog may be part of that or maybe I won't share this beyond my inner supportive circles. I know that my personal stigma is breaking down, little by little.

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