The Meanest Mom

Before I was up this morning, I heard Emma and Elizabeth giggling in their room.  In honor of Dr. Seuss' birthday, the schools in our district devote a whole week to reading activities and dress-up days.  Today was "Wacky Wednesday."  I didn't dare go in there just yet and tame all of the creativity going on.  I needed to get up, get some clothes on, and steel myself for the moaning first.  I am, after all, nothing but a big fun-sucker.

When I finally saw Emma and Elizabeth's creations, I knew they had outdone themselves.  Elizabeth was wearing 7 undershirts, and two inside-out shirts on top of that.  On her head were a pair of leggings and a shirt with the arms tied and only 1 of her eyes was visible.  On the back of her head were a pair of Harry Potter glasses precariously perched.  Her lower half was covered by knit pants and pink basketball shorts.

It was a sight to behold.

Emma's outfit was still a work in progress, but she had on one inside-out shirt and leggings.  And she wanted to borrow one of my shirts.

I had to explain how I would not let Elizabeth go to school with 9 shirts on (she would be way too hot) and she needed to be able to see out of both of her eyes.  Yes, I was going to ruin the look of eyes in the back of her head.  And I didn't care that they were trying to make her look round.

What can I say.  I am insensitive.

I peeled off most of Elizabeth's shirts, and found both Emma and Elizabeth a shirt of mine to wear.  After a few more discussions of what may or may not be acceptable, Emma put on a regular pair of jeans and a regular shirt.  "I just don't feel like dressing up anymore.  You ruined it."

During breakfast I had to confiscate the leggings on Elizabeth's head.  She could earn them back if she did something extra, like make the twins' beds or swept the bathroom.

She huffed, pouted, and sat on the couch.  When it was time to go, I told her to put on her shoes or she could be very wacky with no shoes on at school.  (There was snow on the ground this morning.  I don't think I would have followed through on this threat... but you never know.  It was a rough morning.)  Slowly, oh so slowly, she found a pair of boots and put them on.  As I was herding everyone into the minivan, Elizabeth started stomping and whining that I am a "mean mom" and how she needed those pants on her head.

You should have earned them back.

"You didn't tell me that!"

Yes, I did.  Two or three times, in fact.  You didn't listen.

Weeping.  Wailing.  Gnashing of teeth.

Anyway, there was no picture of Wacky Wednesday this year.