when your poop is the prettiest shade of teal

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the first week of school, ethan refused to wear anything other than his “uniform” which consists of a long sleeve under armour shirt and black polyester warmup pants…in hundred degree heat. he calls this outfit his tennis clothes and we all play along. so basically i’m an enabler. whatever. the very first day of preschool the teacher looked at ethan’s ensemble and commented, “wow, aren’t you going to be hot in those clothes?” ethan looked down at himself and then at miss laura and said, “this my tennis cwos. i not take it off.” i smiled at the teacher and thought to myself he’s your problem til 1:30. i waved goodbye and wished her good luck before running out the door.

that week ethan would take the outfit off only so that i could bathe him, but then would hurriedly put his shirt and pants back on before someone could snatch them up and potentially try and wash or burn them (i vote burn). god forbid his clothes not smell like sour juice and 3 day old yogurt, or have suspicious looking marks on the sleeves (my guess, snot), and dirt on his pants from the playground. but most days i’m like, whatever dude.

most of you are probably cringing, mouths agape, judging me no less, but here’s the deal. he’s my 4th kid. when you have more than 3 kids you no longer sweat the small stuff. you can’t afford to–you would kill yourself. i mean seriously, everyone knows the first kid is mostly fucked. that’s your practice kid. no way that kid is going to be “normal” in the traditional sense of the word. since no manual on how to raise kids comes shooting out your va-jay-jay post placenta removal, what’s a mother to do? so the first kid becomes your experiment, aka guinea pig, and you cross your fingers and hope for the best. hey, i was a first born child and i totally turned out ok, right?

when the second kid arrives, you feel like maybe you know what you’re doing this time. you don’t make as many mistakes and you start to take the pressure off yourself. if you’re smart, you’ll stop there. 2 kids and you retain your sanity…mostly. BUT if you have to keep going, you better be ready to compromise your once very stringent rules and beliefs about parenting. cuz you’re about to get really super lazy.

by number 4, not only have you completely lost your mind, but now most things seem reasonable like, “you want to eat your cereal out of the dog’s bowl? ok, that sounds great.” and “son, be careful running into the street with those scissors!” and “you want to wear the SAME clothes 8 days in a row without washing them? i love that idea.”

see? it works.

then week 2, something happened. the long sleeve under armour shirt disappeared. no one is claiming responsibility, but i have a suspicion that it was harley. she’s brilliant. i haven’t questioned her, but a day after the shirt suddenly went missing (by the way, ethan cried for 4 hours straight when he couldn’t find the blasted shirt so i gave him a family size bag of m&ms. his poop was teal for the next 2 days) she suddenly appeared out of nowhere with his soccer shirt. yes, it’s true, the soccer shirt is back.

oy vey.

so now three weeks into school, his wardrobe has broadened much to the delight of his family and his teacher. he will wear a pair of camo pants, a pair of gray pants, a pair of sweat pants, and he rotates between the soccer shirt, his “nemo” shirt (which doesn’t have nemo on it–i’m just as stymied as you) and a shirt from the movie, cars. granted, he looks like he dresses himself and that’s because he does. and that’s all right with me.

the kicker? HE WEARS EVERYTHING BACKWARDS! his underwear, backwards, so it looks like he’s wearing a thong; his shirt, backwards; and his pants, backwards.

yeah, people stare, but whatever. strangers have actually stopped me in target and said, “did you know your son has his clothes on backwards?” i want to scream, “do i LOOK fucking retarded to you? of course i know his clothes are on backwards!” but i don’t. i just smile and say, “yes, thank you.” ugh. people drive me insane. but the ironic thing is that someone out there is probably blogging about the mother she saw in target who lets her kid wear his clothes backwards. she probably even feels sorry for me. well, just so you know, i feel sorry for me too.

we are making progress for sure. at least he’s wearing different clothes. granted, it’s the same rotation every couple of days, but we’re able to wash them free of snot stains and dried up food. one of these days maybe he will wear different clothes every day and god willing, not backwards.