Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Am I the Only One In This House That Can Dress Myself?

 Morning Readers,

     First tip of the day: Don't dunk your cookie in your coffee for more than five seconds. No one likes eating only half the cookie they'd intended to eat in its entirety. Second tip of the day: If you have children and a husband, stop going places. I mean it....just stop. Resign yourself to eighteen years of having food delivered to the door, never seeing sunlight and organizing intramural staring contests for your family. Sound difficult? It's not. At least, not as difficult as trying to get everyone ready to go somewhere. Why oh why did no one tell me? I mean, I was well-aware that being a wife and a mother came with being responsible for everyone, but, do I have to be the only one who knows how to dress herself? *forehead meets table*
     Saturday found us getting ready for a wedding, and after I'd stuffed each baby into something clean and presentable, I attempted to dress myself. But there was a third person who needed to be dressed, before that could happen.

     "What should I wear?"

     "Clothes, Babe. Preferably something that covers both your top and bottom halves. "

     "What clothes?"

     "The clothes I bought you...in the closet....on the hangers. They're those things with the "hook" at the top, clinging to the metal pole."

     I'd just finished buckling shoes onto tiny feet..

     "Is this shirt too big? Does it look too big? It just feels a little big."

     "It looks fine. Roll up your sleeves...ahh..yes, that looks great." The next few minutes were spent chasing a fat baby in order to convince it it needed its hair scraped into a ponytail.

     "Do these shoes go with this shirt? If I wear these shoes, should I wear a brown belt? Do you know where my brown belt is?"

     "Why don't you wear the black shoes and your black belt? That'll look nice."

     "Good idea....

....you know where my black belt is?"

     "I think it's upstairs. Let me finish with the kids and I'll hel- "

     "I can do it myself....I'll find it."
     Well, Hallelujah in a handbasket! Good for you Honey!

      This was not part of the deal. When I read all those "So You Decided to Get Married (what'd you smoke today?)" pamphlets, not a single one advised me I'd be responsible for figuring out how to clothe myself and everyone else in the family. I mean, I knew I'd have to help the children along (babies aren't known for their snappy dressing), but Husband's supposed to be the hunter/gatherer, the man-beast, the lone individual anointed to stand between his family and any impending zombie, nuclear, off-chance-mugging, or shark attacks.

....he should be able to dress himself, right?

     To be clear, I didn't marry the man for his fashion sense, I just didn't realize my daydreaming would inevitably take the shape of Husband pairing his shoes to his shirt, successfully. Oh yeah baby, you match that belt to that blazer. That's the ticket...
     We're in it for the long-haul, though, so I should probably get used to it. Unfortunately, this means I'll need to get more patience (I heard Amazon has it on sale, 5.49 for ten year increments...umm..."click"...and..."buy"), OR I can spend next weekend coming up with a systematic way to color-code the closet. Then again, that could be as pointless as me asking the family, "Have you seen my dress?"

No wonder mothers are so tempted to run naked and screaming through the streets....

Until Next Time, Readers!