Yesterday because I was meant to be taking it easy, I walked into Daisy’s room and suddenly everything looked crazy and out of order and messy and exactly like a 5 year old’s bedroom should look. It just wouldn’t do. I immediately set to work on her bookcase – ordering and neatening it up until it looked like it should do – tall to smallest, and sectioned out into Dr Seuss etc – which will last approximately 3 minutes. Those 3 minutes will be mine though! Victorious!
After the bookcase she decided to get dressed which meant she put together the craziest most unmatched ensemble she could find. Each top she put on came up to her mid forearm. “No, that won’t do. Try another.” I kept saying until I realised the only option that worked was her red skivvy from her School winter uniform. Not so cool. We attacked each drawer pulling out each top and skirt and tshirt and dress that no longer fit until we had a pile that looked like this:
And no clothes left in any of her drawers. Bummer.
Having sisters and sister in laws with older kids we have had a long succession of hand me downs but as they get older, they have dried up somewhat. Fancy having to actually buy your kids clothes? Who knew? So with empty drawers from both bedrooms we headed off to Country Target for some basics.
The shopping expedition was quite disasterous. Daisy was in a mood. You know the overtired end of second School term and feeling a little sick from an impending cold 5 year old thunder mood? Yep, that one. She rolled her eyes so hard and back so far I thought I might pass out in the children’s clothing section from sheer annoyance and anger that someone I had MADE had so little respect for me. Harper was hilarious pulling pieces off that she liked (that had Dora and Princess motifs on them of course) whilst I distracted her with less feral items and quietly stashing the pink stuff away. She managed to get a few bits and pieces, Daisy managed to piss me off even further (which was saying something) at the checkout with a fight about which jumper she would wear home. When we got half way down the street and she tempted her fate with a sick mother one more time with an eye roll, an ungrateful mention about SOMETHING and I cracked. A public warning, a threat, some talking back a PUBLIC SMACK, a PUBLIC grabbing her by her ear with a crying sister behind and then a stand off tantrum about getting in the car. Had I been feeling better I would have thrown all 25kgs of her in the car myself. It wasn’t pretty people. Bowral didn’t know what had hit it. We eventually got her in the car with not 1, or 2 but THREE pullovers on the way home where I actually got OUT of the car, around to her side before she completely shat herself and was quiet, that is until I got back into the car and drove off before the tantrum began all over again. It was something special that tantrum, all 55 minutes of it. Reminiscent of the famous Happy Fucking Fathers Day of 2009. Shudder. Needless to say I needed a lie down after it.
Her cache has been emptied from the tantrum though – don’t you find sometimes that kids just need to do it to move on? She ate lunch and then passed out for a few hours and has been a little better since. School has really taken it out of my little one…it’s been a big year. So now she has 2 jumpers, one long sleeved top AND a red skivvy to work with. She has clean drawers though. And I have storage boxes filled with clothes waiting for Harper in a few years time. And she has a neat bookcase. That’s something right?