Yes, I let my child go to Target in her Snow White costume. Yes, I bought her a cat helmet and let her wear it as a hat for the duration of the trip. And yes, every single person at Target had a comment about it.

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When it comes to raising my children, instilling a sense of independence and allowing them to expand their creativity ranks high on my list of importance. Yes, I want them to be smart. Yes, I want them to practice their workbooks and keep a clean house. Yes, I want them to be able to follow rules and the instruction of their parents and teachers. Yes, I want them to know how to count and say the alphabet. I’m not a heathen, for cripes sake. But I also thoroughly feel that if my children are ever going to become independent from me and functional, worthwhile members of society, then they are also going to need to be allowed to use their creativity and make (some) decisions of their own.

Any parent knows that yes, it is quicker to dress your child yourself and put their shoes on for them. You get out the door 500 times faster that way. The amount of time that it takes my 3 year old to dress herself, go to the bathroom, and put on her own shoes is equivalent to the time it took to carve the whole damn Mount Rushmore with a chisel….by hand. You have no idea how twitchy my fingers get when Everlee is on minute 10 of attempting to zip up her own coat and  I am antsin’ to get out the door to Starbucks. I do not PREFER to wait for extended periods of time on a simple task when all I really want to do is take that first sip of my double-shot-triple-espresso-nonfat-milk-yet-filled-with-sugary-caramel-macchiato.

But, it’s not about me. It’s about them. My convenience is not more important than their budding maturity. It’s about harboring that sense of independence that I see growing a little more in my children each day. It’s about letting them feel accomplished in whatever it is they are doing, whether it’s successful or not.

And sometimes, more times than I should probably admit, it’s about ME BEING TOO TIRED TO FIGHT A BATTLE THAT ISN’T WORTH THE WIN. If I am being totally honest, sometimes my sanity is teetering on the edge of a large, child-induced cliff and I am simply too tired to fight the tiny terrorists that live in my house. And when it IS one of those times and Everlee asks me if she can wear her Snow White costume to Target, HELL YES I oblige. Why? Because this is not a big deal and my haggard brain does not want to deal with the successive fit that will be thrown if I say no. I pick my battles, and a damn Snow White costume is not at the top of my battle list. In fact, I think costumes are friggen sweet and I wish I could trounce around town wearing one, too. Well, technically, I can. I’m a grown a** adult and I do what I want. Hmmmm…future experiment and impending blog post? I concur…

So, here we go. It’s off to Target with a costume on.

The trip started off slightly rough right from the moment I pulled this fairy tale princess out of my car. There were three whole people in the parking lot, and two of them immediately giggled and then asked, “Why is she wearing that?” I responded with the very appropriate comment of:

“I did not care to fight the clothes battle today. Plus, I think the dress is pretty killer.”

When what I REALLY wanted to say was:

“Hey, suckbutt, why are you wearing that hideous diarrhea green sweatshirt? Don’t like me asking? Then don’t do the same to me.” (followed by a strong finger poke to the forehead).

It was not an ideal way to start the shopping trip, but I didn’t let it bother me. I just brushed my shoulders off like Jay Z and watched in amusement as Everlee attempted to strattle a big red concrete ball whilst wearing the glittery dress. The dress was slippery and the struggle was humorous…

But soon thereafter, my Jay-Z shoulders were un-brushable. Once inside the store, the comments started coming faster than Hillary Clinton can delete emails (too soon?). Everyone seemed to have an opinion and it was exponentially extending the length of time it was taking me to end this misery and get back to the car. My 20 minute shopping trip was quickly turning in to 2 hours. And the opinions, glances, and stares only escalated once Everlee picked out a cat bicycle helmet and then plopped that baby right on her noggin for the wearin’. Naturally, I let this happen because it’s a friggen cat helmet. That’s legit. I approve.

See? Totally awesome. She wore it proudly. But once people started seeing the added accessories on my already-eye-catching toddler, game over. It was all “What the…?” “Why is she wearing that?”, “She looks hilarious!” (That one was meant to be harmless, I’m sure, but let’s remember that she was listening. She chose that outfit out of pure seriousness and confidence, and you just told her she looks funny. That was interesting to try to explain later.)

My personal favorite was a person whispering in the aisle adjacent to me:

“Why would she let her wear that?”

Ok, you ignorant a**hat, I heard you. Also, I don’t owe you an explanation. I owe you nothing but a swift kick in the mouth with my giant man-foot. And if it weren’t for the sweet lady that immediately approached me, that scenario would have actually played out.  You owe this nice lady your face. I bet you are friends with the evil troll that criticized my parenting in the Adventureland lazy river, too. Why don’t the both of you just go suck an egg. (not sure what I am referring to? See previous blog rants posts)

But, let’s give some credit to that nice lady that saved the face of the dirty aisle whisperer. This sweet soul immediately came around the corner and approached me. She told me that she had walked in to the store at the same time that I did and had also been near me throughout the entire shopping trip. She heard me talking to everyone and asked me: “Have you REALLY had to explain yourself to every person in this store?” I said that with the exception of seeing my awesome neighbor who is a beacon of positivity and who commended Everlee for wearing what she wants, the answer was yes. EVERY. FREAKING. PERSON. had some type of comment. Everywhere we went, Ev had to hear the comments and giggling about her outfit choice. That will resonate SOMETHING deep down within a young girl, whether she knows it or not. This sweet lady simply responded with:

“That’s too bad. I think it is great that she is able to express herself with support from her parents. I hope that you continue to allow her to do so and that people will learn to keep their mouths shut.”

You, my dear lady, are my new favorite person. And now, more than ever, I realize just how important it is going to be for me to let my kids be themselves. I admit, I LOVE to dress my children. I love finding cute, trendy outfits for them to wear. But I also want them to figure out who THEY are. I want there to be a happy balance. I want to find that middle ground that lies in between “your kid has to wear society-approved attire” and “your kid looks homeless”. Honestly, we look more homeless lately. Brushing my daughter’s hair is THE WORST THING IN THE WORLD. That may, or may not, be a battle that I sometimes choose not to fight. That argument instantly sends me on the fast track to crazy town. Luckily, she brushes her own teeth, so at least she isn’t disheveled AND smelly. It can always be worse, right?!

And I will continue to pick my battles. Not everything is worth my energy, despite what my fellow Target patrons may think.

-Don’t want to wear clothes but would rather wear a princess dress? Cool.

-Don’t want to match your socks and fold them? Fine, wear mismatching socks.

-Don’t want to eat the apple because I sliced it instead of cutting it in to bite-sized shapes of Elsa? Fine, don’t eat it. Starve. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.

-Want to dip your pineapple chunk in a slew of ketchup/Worcestershire/and Italian vinaigrette? Go ahead, you sicko. I don’t even care.

-Don’t want to sit on my left side because you HAVE to sit on my right side? Fine, switch sides. I don’t give a s*** right now.

-Want to twirl around the house in a Sophia the First costume and a cat helmet? Have at it, as long as I can sit down in peace.

 

 

 

And I am perfectly comfortable losing ALL of those battles, plus more. And if that means that my perma-weirdo daughter will wear a Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man costume to the park while I get ridiculed for allowing her to do so, then so be it. Because her confidence, individuality, and my flippin’ sanity depends on it. Maybe next time I’ll wear her crown, too.

So to all of you Negative Nancies….

I SAY GOOD DAY.