Pajama Day

Every day should be pajama day. The world is a better place to be when it's pajama day. My world anyway. The kids woke up and were THRILLED to put on their jammies (we're having a heat wave so they've been sleeping in their skivvies). I didn't have to negotiate with anyone or trick anyone. They just got dressed smiling. And that pretty much set the tone for the day. When I picked them up they were beaming, the whole day spent marching around in their full regalia.  Even I was transformed. We got home and I was inspired to blow up the kiddie pool. The disgusting, moldy kiddie pool that I first had to scrub down to get the scum off. The kids stripped down and I powered that thing up and filled it with two inches of freezing hose water. And they jumped around for two hours while I blew bubbles on them and made dinner and generally lollied around the house while they entertained themselves. It was awesome. Then I thought, what they heck I'll just give em a bath in the kiddie pool. So I soaped everyone up and scrubbed everyone's heads and privates, in that order, and before we knew it, it was time for dinner. After dinner they watched a little Curious George and had some apple slices. Then I brushed their teeth and shuffled them to bed with a few stories about Pinky and Pongo, two cats I made up whose antics bear a striking resemblance to my own kids'. Imagine that. Then a few songs and by 8:30 they were both asleep. 

Today was crazy hair day which unfortunately does not have the same effect. It's the National Week of the Young Child so tomorrow is cowboy day, but since my son's cowboy boots no longer fit him and I didn't get my shit together in time to get him boots that fit (in my defense he is a half size right now and they only sell the kind he wants in whole sizes), my guess is that cowboy day will not make my life easier the way that pajama day does. 

The Schoolkeeper

After I picked up my son today from preschool we were pulling out of the parking lot and my he noticed the woman who cleans the school entering the building.

Him: Hey mommy, there's our Maria for the school.
Me: Oh, you mean, she's the housekeeper?
Him: No mommy, she's the schoolkeeper.

I stand corrected. I then had to explain that not all people who clean buildings are named Maria. I don't think he got it. But tomorrow he's planning to ask Miss Courtney what the school Maria's name is so we can clear up the confusion.

Today he also told me that he has to wear his feety pajamas to sleep because otherwise he will get goose bumps and turn into a duck.

How can I argue with that kind of brilliant logic?

Pajama game

I just spent the last two hours dealing with unparalleled irrationality. I had the audacity to suggest to my son that he might wear short pajamas tonight instead of his usual fleece feety pajamas or his long sleeve/long pants combo with socks (never without socks). It is 85 degrees outside tonight. The sun has been down for two hours and the heat is still radiating. It is freaking hot by all accounts so why, in the name of GEORGE JESUS, does my son insist on wearing FLEECE PAJAMAS. I don't get it. It makes no sense. Most of what he does makes no sense but I have come to deal with most of it because most of his nonsense will not cause heat stroke. But when I go in there at night and he's literally roasting in his own sweat, I have to wonder if it's healthy to indulge this, yet another, completely irrational behavior.

So I put my foot down. I said, you want to wear longs, you have to put them on yourself. If you want to wear shorts, I'll put them on right now. So for the next hour he just cried and cried. I finally couldn't take it anymore so I went in there and slapped my fist down on the floor next to his head to scare him and growled, "you will wear these shorts!" Then I sat on him and put those red shorts on while he screamed and kicked. I turned off the light, closed the door and walked away. He continued to shriek.

Five minutes later he walks out wearing his long sleeve shirt tucked into his long pants. He actually did it himself. Then, through his snuffly tears, he asked me to sing him his songs for bedtime. So we went to my bed and we talked about what all had went down and I explained that I just want him to be cool at night. And I apologized for yelling at him. Then I sang him his song and after he said, "Mommy, I think I just want to sleep in my underwear on the bottom." Like it was his idea. Then five minutes later while I'm tucking him in, he says, "Mommy, I think I don't want to wear my shirt. I just want to sleep in my underwear."

WHY DOES HE HAVE TO FIGHT IT!?!? Please tell me there is some evolutionary benefit to him for going through this process. Because I'll tell you straight up I see no benefit for me. In fact, I see major detriment. It's a nightmare to deal with this stuff. And we do it EVERY NIGHT. Every single night there is some kind of mental breakdown over pajamas, or socks, or stories, or teeth or songs. I mean he is lying next to me with sweat pouring down his head and he's telling me he wants to wear his long pajamas. WHY? I don't get it. I guess it's not for me to get. Just for me to navigate. We'll see where we end up tomorrow. Who am I kidding? The minute I fall asleep tonight, he'll be in my room sobbing to have his fleece pajamas back on. And the space heater.

Careful what you kvetch for

I finally got my son to wear short pajamas. It took an entire summer of sweaty nights but he finally relented and agreed to wear his winnie the pooh pajamas with the red shorts and the big pooh face on the yellow tee. Super cute.

The next morning he woke up with nine mosquito bites in and around his neck and arms, including one the size of a quarter in his armpit. Poor kid. Damn those short sleeves!

The next night he was trying to go to sleep and tossing around, scratching himself scabby. I dabbed him so much he looked like he'd been dipped in a vat of calamine lotion. No relief. So after much whining and contorting to get that itch in the middle of his back, I whispered in his ear do you want your sleeves?

Big grin.

Toddler: 40
Mommy: Love

Sleeves and Socks

I picked up my son the other day and it was 94 degrees at 4:30 in the afternoon and he's wearing long pants, a t-shirt, a longsleeve shirt, socks and tennies. And his face is bright red and he's sweating. So I asked him, sweetie, you want to take off your longsleeve?

NOOOOO!!!!

I get that it's my fault. I dress him usually. But he insists on the second shirt. I always figure he'll take it off at school when it gets hot. To his credit, it's a little chilly and overcast where we live at 7:30 in the morning. But he almost NEVER takes the thing off. And he always insists on socks. It started about two months ago when he got blisters on his two big toes from walking around in wet sandals. They must have scared him because he insisted on socks to cover them up. He even wanted to take his bath wearing socks. Well the blisters healed of course but he's still insisting on the socks. Especially at night. I just don't get it. IT'S HOT! And he sometimes has trouble falling asleep because, oh...I don't know, he's COOKING IN HIS OWN BED. One night I conviced him to wear short pajams and he slept great. I thought we were in the clear. but the next day he wanted feety pajamas.

And for whatever reason it makes me INSANE. Just be a normal kid and walk around barefoot in the summer!

I guess I should be grateful to not have to worry about stepping on bees or rusty nails. Even yesterday, he and his aba were riding his bike in the park when suddenly I see him walking toward the house completely naked but wearing his socks and shoes. Happy as a clam. Apparently his pants had been falling down and he had to pee anyway so he just took everything off. It's just as well anyway because his father dressed him yesterday and he was wearing plaid madras shorts and an aqua, red and yellow stripe shirt.

I'm losing my train of thought. And my mind. Where was I...yes, the longsleeve shirt issue.

But I'm reminded that in elementary school I started wearing turtlenecks to school year round. We live in California so this is absurd. I didn't like the hair on my arms so I just covered them. Up to my neck in fact. My teachers probably wondered if I was being beaten at home. I'm sure my mom was thrilled about that. And, come to think of it, I always wore socks too. I actually remember that in 8th grade I thought well I'd really like to NOT wear socks but by now I had a sock tan going on thirteen years. My feet had probably never seen the light of day.

This kid is ME. And it's driving me freaking crazy.