I could blog entirely about Miss Boo and never run out of material.
Boo goes to a uniform dress code school. I purchased the pants option, thinking that pants would be good for gym class. Pants are good to wear during our cold Midwestern winters. I thought I was being a Good Mommy in bypassing the standard pinafore uniform dress option for the sensible pants.
And up until now, pants were a fine option. Boo barely realized she was even wearing a uniform. Heck, she barely realized she had on clothes until she came home, tore off the pants, and put on one of her princess dresses.
That was, until yesterday.
Yesterday, a little girlie light bulb went off above Boo's head. Since it's Boo, I picture it like Hollywood makeup mirror lighting. I pictured her looking around the class. Seeing the other girls in their pinafores. Looking down at her pants. Looking back at the other girls, now bathed in sunshine with angels singing. I want to be like them. I want to look like them. But I don't. I'm wearing pants.
Miss Boo realized she was not pleased and Her Mother was to blame.
Miss Boo came home from school and flung herself on to her Cinderella carriage princess bed and wailed, "I AM THE ONLY GIRL IN MY CLASS WHO WEARS PANTS! I AM THE ONLY GIRL WHO DOESN'T WEAR A DRESS! GRACE WEARS A DRESS! SARAH WEARS A DRESS! MADDIE WEARS A DRESS! I WEAR PAAAAAAAAANTS!!!!!!"
She was actually sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe as she ripped off her "ugly ugly" pants and threw them across the room. She then raced to her closet, flipping through the clothes and yelling, "Where's my dress, Mommy? Where's my dress like the girls have at schooooooooool?"
I was finally able to get Boo calmed down with the promise that I would go out the next day and find her a pinafore uniform. Just like the other girls wear.
Yeah. I don't know where those moms found the approved uniform in a size 4t anywhere in this city. But try finding one now, in February?
I started with JC Penny, a store that had school uniforms. Had. ARG.
There was no way I was going to let my little Boo down. I headed to Target. I can make it work at Target. I can make anything work at Target.
I went to the little girl section to look for Boo's size. 4t. Nothing. Nothing at all that I could make work in a size 4t. But across the aisle in the bigger girl section, I found skirts in the approved uniform color. And they had a size 4. And me, I'm thinking, hey! Size four. How different can that be from a size 4t? I'll take three! And tights, she needs tights. Nothing in a size 4t, but they have Size 4-6x. Ok, how different can that be from a size 4t?
But a skirt is not a pinafore. So I also went to the Catholic supply store and thank goodness didn't tell the man behind the counter that he had a little smudge on his forehead. I found a pinafore in a size 4. Not a 4t. But how much difference can that little t be?
I got home and proudly showed my mother, who watched the babies for the morning, all my goodies. As I held them up, my mother said, "Oh no. No. Those are way too big. What size are they?"
"No.... but a 4 is close to a 4t, right?"
"Oh no. It goes 4t, then 5t, THEN you move up to the size 4. Four, Five, then 6x."
No wonder women are so hung up on size. Look how early it starts. Look how early the confusion of finding the right size starts!
Why do they do that? Why not 4t, 5t, then you jump to size 6. Heck, why not get rid of the t entirely? She's not even a toddler anymore. Isn't that what the t stands for?
Sure enough, Boo came home and tried on her new uniforms and they immediately fell off her hips to the floor. The pinafores? Hung to the ground before falling off her shoulders entirely.
My mother quickly began measuring, marking, and pinning. "I can alter these. Give me a few days and I'll make it work."
My mother, the great Marge In Charge, to the rescue.
When's that gonna be me? When am I going to be the mother who swoops in, tucks her baby birds under her wings and makes it all better? When am I going to get a hang of this motherhood thing and save the day?
Eventually. Hopefully. And if not, I hope my girls inherit my sense of humor.