Freckled Frocks and Squishy Socks

I’ll be honest – my kids have driven me nuts more often than I like to admit.  From the incessant whining over not getting their ways, to being on the receiving end of repeated “no’s” when asked to do (or not to do) something to being awakened from a deep REM cycle virtually every night for periods of time to turn “Cal Can’t Help It” (Fergie) back on, I oftentimes find myself wondering if this really is typical and, if so, how in the world do people not walk around sharing the misery of it more with co-workers, friends and/or any sympathetic ear they happen to find?

I am not naïve to think that the Leatherman family is much different than other families as far as the stubborn, independence-seeking toddler phase goes.  There’s a reason there are articles about dealing with whining, meltdowns, smart mouths and general bad behavior. These articles don’t exist because of a handful of toddlers.  I get that and need only the occasional sympathetic ear to get me through the “Terrible 2s,” which, let’s be honest, are really the “Terrible 1’s through 4’s.”

What I find myself needing more frequently, though, are check-ins with others re: my kids’ quirks and associated melodrama that seem a little odd to me.  I mean, some of this stuff is just plain old weird. To fight it is to add unprecedented stress levels to daily life; to give in to it is to encourage such weirdness.  There’s a delicate balance to achieve here.  Luckily, I have lived my life by the motto “pick your battles,” which (I believe) makes me well equipped to take on or simply tolerate these quirks with patience.  Sometimes, I do lose it because at my roots, I just don’t understand why it’s such a big issue and can’t possibly make the situation better.  I mean, take a look at some of these quirks.

Cal’s Quirks:

1. “Squishy” socks (even the best-fitting socks might qualify if he happens to put them on crooked)
2. Pants with strings
3. Pants with pockets (even the simplest, most basic pockets)
4. Pants with “freckles” or “sparkles” (I’ve come to learn this means they’re gathered at the bottom)
5. Pants that are too long
6. Short pants and short sleeves (he doesn't like them, even in 80-degree plus weather)
7. Hooded jacket without the hood on his head
8. Jacket with zipper not zipped all the way up
9. Shoe laces not lying flat on his shoe
10. Shoes with Velcro fasteners not adhered tight to the shoes
11. Shirts that are too long*

* Exception: His ND leprechaun shirt, which hangs off of him, does not qualify as being too long

Ella’s quirks:

1. Not holding her blanket when it’s in sight of her (if she sees her blanket, she needs to be holding it)
2. Attempting to read to her the book she’s paging through (she wants you to read a different book)
3. Having a water bottle taken away from her

Admittedly, I had to dig a little to come up with Ella’s list.  I mean, they’re all true; however, on the weirdness scale, they barely register.  Except for the book thing.  Before bedtime, I’ll tell her to pick a book for us to read – she’ll pick one for herself and then one for me.  “Do you want me to read this one while you hold that one?” I’ll ask her, to which she responds, nodding happily that I understood, “Nyeah.”  I’ve tried to read the one she’s holding and paging through – this is usually met with voiced displeasure from Ella.  So there we sit, Ella paging through her own book as I read a different one to her.

Cal’s issues with pants have been at the root of much morning malcontent in the Leatherman house.  Many an argument has ensued from the simple request to get dressed for the day because most pants meet at least one of the criteria that Cal finds… upsetting?... uncomfortable?... I’m not sure.  Working with the supply my sister had given me, I recently took Cal through the exercise of eliminating from his options pants he would not wear, all to mitigate the risk of a “pants war” in our morning routine.  Here’s how that went down:

Me <holding up a pair of pants>: “Will you wear these pants?”

Cal <examining them>: “No.”

Me: “Why?”

Cal: “Because they have pockets.”

Me: “Okay, so these pants go in the stack of ones you won’t wear.  Once they go there, you won’t have the option to wear them.  Do you understand that?”

Cal: “Yes.”

Me <holding up the next pair>: “Okay, what about these?  Will you wear these pants?”

Cal <examining them>: “No.”

Me: “Why?”

Cal: “Because they have strings AND pockets.”

Me: “Okay, they go in this stack.  You won’t have the option to wear these pants. <Holding up the next pair> What about these?”

Cal: “No.”

Me: “Why?”

Cal: “Because they have freckles?”

Me <huh?> “Freckles?  What are freckles?”

Cal <pointing to the gathering at the bottom of a leg>: “This.”

Me: “Ah. Okay, they go in the stack.”

And this went on for each pair of pants.  In the end, I think we were left with three pairs of sweatpants, three pairs of jeans and a pair of small-pocketed khakis.  The jeans were only in the wearable pile because I overrode Cal’s “no” – they were the most basic, barely pocketed jeans you could find. And the khakis?  I told him he’s worn them a lot without issue, so they’re certainly wearable.

Cal's Favorite Outfit (right
down to the mismatched socks)

To say that our mornings are drama-free since this exercise would be a lie.  However, they are noticeably more consistently pleasant and absent the fight over whether or not a pair of pants is wearable.  We have since added three pairs of the plainest, un-pocketed, un-stringed, un-freckled, perfectly-sized sweatpants from Old Navy to keep our options fresh without having to constantly do laundry.  And while I clearly gave in to this quirk, I did secretly put a pair of pants that do not pass Cal’s wearable criteria in his cubby at school to be worn in the event he has some sort of accident in his pants. Should the accident happen, which it surely will, a little exposure to something different won’t hurt him, and someone else (his teacher) will make it happen.