Monday, August 1, 2016

My Diamond Straps Are Pinching


Today I'm packing a suitcase with 14 days worth of clothes for me and the two little ones. George only has four pairs of shorts he will even consider wearing, where an elastic waistband is a must, and Kingsley has enough clothes for a couple four year olds.
I remember when she was a baby and I complained that I wasn't able to buy her clothes because we received so many clothes as gifts. I know. The audacity.
She was the first grandchild out of 11 kids, so when everyone heard she was coming they did what most excited people do, they went shopping.
When my little sister had her daughter, and I gave her Kiki's baby clothes, four enormous moving boxes, she was in shock as she pulled out clothes still with tags on them. We received much more clothes than she could even wear.
So I felt I didn't get the opportunity to represent my personal style with my kid because we were given all her clothes. Now that she's not the only grandkid, we've started buying her clothes, and I realized how stupid it was to complain about all the free clothes we got.
I also figured out that even if my kid let me project my fashion sense onto her, it would lack flair since I am too committed to the K.I.S.S. principle and her entire wardrobe would be $5 H&M little girls sundresses.
She starts school in the fall, and we bought her school uniforms last night. She became so excited in the store, she threw the biggest baby fit I'd seen her throw in a year, while trying to take her pants off because "it was too hot for pants" so she could put on the new school dress.

I've been thinking about how were going to handle this cross country flight, especially with George because he is a juggernaut and 6 hours in a seat will have its challenges. Luckily there is TV, and I bought fruit snacks, a fuck ton of fruit snacks, and not even the organic kind. Straight baby crack I can use during a moment of hysteria.
We are going to Philadelphia to see my sister, and then to Manhattan to see my brother, and ride the fish carousel. It's going to be so much fun. So complaining about George maybe acting like a monster is not necessary. It's like when someone complains how they have to pick up their house before the cleaning lady shows up, so the woman doesn't need to tiptoe over their dirty chonies before she scrubs the doodoo out of their potty.

It's an adventure, and on a micro level there will be some ups and downs, but on a macro level its heading in a positive direction, so it's all good, and I'll try not to complain as the diamond straps on my sandals are pinching, or when George does George on an airplane. Maybe there is a German word for complaints from the ebbs and flows of an awesome upswing, like how the humidity in the Caribbean makes my hair look like The Predators, or when I'm up three or four times a night taking kids to the bathroom. These are such great problems to have, they shouldn't even be considered problems.

George's insistence on elastic waistband pants reflects his positive outlook. He always wants to be prepared when life throws him a feast to get fat on, or fruit snacks.

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