Fashionista

About a week ago Greenleigh decided she wanted to wear a birthday hat to school.  You know, one of the cone-like hats that is all kinds of bright colors and has an elastic band to keep it on your head?  Yeah, one of those.  Turns out it had been stuffed in to her toy box, no doubt when we were trying to straighten up the house for company.  It was my husband’s day to take the girls to daycare and as I was getting ready for work he yelled to me from the bottom of the stairs, “Jen, she wants to wear a birthday hat?!”  I’m not sure if this was a question, statement, or exclamation, but in any event,  I responded with “Okay?”, which to me translated to “Well, okay dear, but make sure you get it from her before she actually exits the car.”  At this point, you would be fair to assume that did not actually happen.  Marital mis-communication at its finest.  She walked into daycare with the birthday hat on and everyone began to wish her a happy birthday.  The only problem being that her birthday was in April.

A few weeks before this I was getting her ready for daycare and attempted to put her in a cute shirt with fish on it.  She snatched the shirt out of my hand, put it back in her dresser, and waved her pointer finger at me saying, “No fishies, Mommy!  No fishies!”  Silly me for thinking I’m actually in charge of this operation.  I tried to put her in the shirt the next day, thinking the day before had just been a fluke, but I was met with the same result.  Erajh tried to put her in the shirt over that weekend, thinking maybe he could get her to wear it, but he too was met with the same chant of, “No fishies, NO fishies”.  The shirt was then crammed back into her dresser.  She was not going to wear that shirt.  In case you need a visual, this is the offending shirt:

Cute, right?  Apparently, not.  Between the birthday hat episode and the fishy shirt fiasco, it was clear that things in our house had changed.  Once upon a time I picked out Greenleigh’s outfits and put them on her in the morning with no editorial, but no longer.  She now insists on a say about what she wears, and I’m not sure if I like it.  I want her to express herself, but I don’t want the people at daycare to think “I would never let my child out of the house in that.  Doesn’t she help her child get ready in the morning?”  Perhaps you need some examples.  We now need to start our day like this:

Her dresser drawers, which were once filled with folded clothes, are now have clothes strewn all over the place.  After all, it takes a certain amount of digging to find that perfect outfit.

Some days selecting her own outfits turns out okay.  A little monotone, but okay:

Other days it goes terribly, terribly wrong:

I guess the top part is okay, but the pants with it?  Not so much.  Plus, they are a size too small and somehow didn’t make it to the storage bin the last time I cleaned out her dresser to move up to the next size.  And yep, that would be her shoes on the wrong feet again.  Not to mention, they are a size too big.  Grandma bought them for next year (she has tons of shoes for summer season this year, so Grandma was right to plan ahead on this one), but she insists on wearing now.  I can hide them wherever I want, she always manages to find them!

Some days she focuses on a certain garment or accessory.  This day, for example, was all about her velour hoodie.  Zipped up as high up as she could possibly get it.  And who wouldn’t want to wear velour in South Florida in August?  I mean, it isn’t like it is 90+ degrees everyday with a 100% humidity or anything.  Oh wait, it is.  Oh well, still all about the velour:

I have learned that sunglasses are almost always required.  And she will redo her hair slightly to the side no matter how much I try to get it straight:

We are learning to compromise, too.  Last week she was adamant about wearing only socks and a pull-up to daycare, but we finally compromised on this:

This look allowed us to incorporate both of her “core elements”, but made her fit to be seen in public.  Always a plus.

Dresses are almost always agreeable:

And most importantly, not all fish are so offensive:

There are a lot of days when I enter her room with several choices just for all of them to be shot down.  She gives me the look of “You seriously want me to wear that, Mom?  What are you thinking?”  I thought I had a good 10-12 years before we hit this stage.  When did I become so uncool?