“Wear robot vest?”
Mini fiddles with his under shirt that he is wearing for the second day in a row. The navy colored top is covered with red, orange and blue robots. Mini likes ‘korange’. And he loves robots even better. I heave a sigh. Having my sweet smelling toddler wearing something three days in a row is too much, even in my book.
“You can wear another. Look, this one is blue too. And look! These shorts are blue too.”
I pull out a light blue underwear set from the cabinet. It has patriottic stripes on it in red, white, blue and orange.
“No. Stripes are not pretty.”
Mini pulls down his robot shirt, determined to keep it on.
“Honey, your robot shirt is dirty. We’ll put in the washer today, so you can wear it again tomorrow,” I try as I’m trying to get him out of his shirt.
“NOHOHO is not dirty! No stripes! Stripes are not pretty!”
It’s a start of a fight with my head strong toddler. Trying to put on his summer chinos. Not Pretty. He wants to wear his worn down jeans with the hole on its knee. When I want to dress him in a short-sleeved t-shirt he shouts:
“Cold sleeves are NOT PRETTY. Don’t wantit!”
Then he wants to wear is down jacket instead of his summer jacket. He even objects to the extra set of clothes for day care.
“Don’t want that shirt for Peekaboo. Is NOT pretty.”
At the end of my wits, I finally have him dressed in enough clothes to take him to day care. As we step out of the door, of course he doesn’t want to walk. Or ride his balance bike. I literally drag him to day care, with him screaming in one hand, his balance bike in the other with my work bag constantly bouncing off my shoulder. When I peek at my watch, it tells me I will never be anywhere near being on time at work. In a weird way, that thought gives me some sense of peace. There’s nothing that can be done that can change this situation. Except my attitude towards it.
At the day care I sit down on their sofa and Mini (guiltfully?) crawls up against me.
“I may be angry, but mama loves you honey, ” I softly say.
I feel the weight of his head on my shoulder. His little body heaves with relief. I feel I’m getting back from my Momma Hyde state to my mrs. Jeckyll self.
Motherhood is one of the most precious gifts life has bestowed on me. That may sound romantic. But there a days when it is what it is. And some days it’s just Not Pretty.