Moaning about a different topic

Instead of moaning about how R. fell completely off the cliff at the end of co-op today, how we beat a hasty retreat the second my last class was done, and how I spent the next four hours helping her regulate on the couch only to have her fall off the cliff again at dinnertime, I'm going to moan about something different for a change...

Dress clothes for the 12, 14, and 15 year old set. 

I'm pretty sure that those of you with children in that age group are thinking they would much rather deal with extreme disregulation than go shopping for dress clothes with your child. I think I may be right there with you.

We are going to a wedding tomorrow. The whole family. My children have really not gone very many places, and certainly nothing requiring anything more than jeans, in a year and a half. Plus, those children have grown many inches, so any appropriate clothing they do own (and at one point they all did), does not fit anymore. It's not even close. To avoid taking the children in their usual outfits of shorts or camo pants, some girls and I went visiting thrift stores the other day. 

To make a very long and tedious story short, girls have clothes, of some sort or another. Clothes that are not camo pants or shorts. (They are not technically dress clothes in my opinion, but in my old parenting age, there are some battles that just aren't worth the fight anymore.) They each like what they are wearing, so at least it will make things less... sullen. On the plus side, G. and L. both wear the same size shoe that I do. We pretty much went up and down the shoe aisle of the thrift store and any size 8 shoe that I liked which they thought would be tolerable was purchased. Everyone also has shoes that are not Vans to wear with their not-quite-so-dressy outfits. And, I have at least one pair of shoes that I like. 

A certain boy kept assuring me that he did have dress clothes. Then this evening (you know the night before and tomorrow I have no time to shop) he shows me the shirt he is wearing (buttons, has sleeves, no scissors have been used on it... I can go with that). I then ask what pants he has, which elicits some muttering. He brings out one pair of this-side-of-ratty drawstring pants which he hopefully points out are 'not jeans'. I send him back to look again trying desperately in the interim if I can actually squeeze in a short shopping trip in the morning and wondering what size he is, when he returns with a pair of khakis. Khakis that fit no less. I'm afraid the sullen act may be passed over to him because of having to wear khakis. That's okay, I'll manage. 

The other girls, the ones who haven't grown in several years have a plethora of shoes and outfits to choose from. Thankfully. 

This is something I absolutely did not miss when we all just stayed at home, going no where.