Tuesday, April 27, 2010

good morning

My first born beauty.  
Chloe.  You are only six.  Beauty is not what your clothing looks like.  It is what you hold inside.  Appearance does not define you.
You look cute, sweet, sassy, adorable, nice, fine, great, in style, cool, chic, awesome, pretty, comfy or what ever adjective you would like me to describe how you look in your outfit for school today.  Every night, we spend a minimum of 30 minutes (which is 29 minutes longer than I spend getting dressed) selecting your outfit for school the following morning.  You go to bed satisfied and confident that your outfit of choice is "perfect" for the day ahead.  You sleep.  You wake.  You piddle.  You have to be told to brush your teeth forty-seven times.  You eat and brush your hair.  As the time draws closer to donning the outfit, you begin to act nervous about how the weather will tun out.  Will you be hot/cold, not comfy?  You enter your department store (room) and begin to throw clothing everywhere.  Then the melt down begins.  10 minutes go by.  Still melting.  I come in and make 9 different outfit suggestions.  I leave the department store (room) frustrated that we are doing this yet again today.  I leave you to pout and melt.  I come back in 5 minutes, yep, still melting.  Time check...8:00.  Daddy will be here to take you to school.  You must be ready to walk out the door in 15 minutes or you will be late...again.  8:10...Daddy enters room.  Offers craziest outfit combo I have ever seen.  Nope, you are not biting.  Daddy offers 6 more suggestions, still melting.  8:25...Daddy says "Fine, you will just stay home from school today."  You scramble to find anything to put on, because you will not miss school.  Daddy saying too late, you are staying home.  Mommy trying to peel triplets off, so she can get ready for work.  I tell you to put something on, anything.  You will be late for school, and yes, we will be late enough to require us to sign in at the office.  Daddy tells you to thank Mommy, because if he would have made the last call, you would not be going.  We arrive at school at 9:07.  You are 37 minutes late.
I kiss you goodbye.  
Cannot wait to do it all over tomorrow.

1 comment:

Kelli said...

I so wish I had words of wisdom. Maybe make her get dressed first thing? Yeah, I don't know.