Piling on

By Chris

Last weekend I was doing the dreaded closet switch over. I unpacked all of the winter hats, gloves, mittens, neck gaiters, snow pants, ski gloves, ski boots, snow boots, snow pants, vests, and winter coats -- times nine.

In order to make room for all this in the closet, I had to pack up the summer and fall items like jackets, sandals, sunhats, sunscreen, beach chairs, beach towels, baseball gloves, jock straps (why do my sons think these sort of things belong with their cleats? why?) -- times nine, except for the jock straps.

I had a huge pile of the children's shoes in the mudroom at one point, while I was trying to decide which shoes were going into the trash and which still fit their owner. My husband picked up two sneakers. "Who do these belong to? And where are their mates?"

I looked at the sneakers and said, "Those belong to the 5-year-old and they are a pair."

"No, they are not."

"Yes they are. I just bought them in September. No one else has sneakers like those."

"But they aren't the same sneaker. And more importantly they aren't even the same size," he said.

I took the sneakers away from Rob to examine them myself. And he was right. The sneakers are not exactly the same. And one of them is at least a size and a half smaller than the other. I was incredulous.

"You really should return them," Rob said.

"Oh and what will I say?," I asked. " 'I bought these sneakers two months ago and have been putting them on my child every single day, yet somehow I have failed to notice they are different until now. And here let me write down my address so you can be sure to get it right when you call child protective services.' "

Clearly I should not have been allowed to reproduce. It is bad enough that I didn't notice, but my obviously inferior genes have produced the sort offspring who apparently cannot tell when he is wearing one shoe which is a size and a half too small. However, this same child will writhe on the floor like he is covered with stinging nettles should the tag on back of his shirt touch his neck.

Come to think of it, maybe he inherited those qualities from his father. Yes, that's it.

Chris is a writer, artist, wife to one, and mother to seven children. In her spare time she works on restoring her 100-year-old home and torturing her children with ill-fitting clothing.

Comments

[Tanya]

I once bought two left skates but, I since they were the only skates left I am sure some other horrible mother bought two rights.

And about fearing the inevitable phone call to the child protection agency, do you find that because you have more than 2.5 kids you worry people will think you are a bad mother? I am the mother of 5 and people think I'm crazy. They have a hard time managing 2 so they don't want to believe it is possible to do a good job with 5.

[Sheri]

I love it! I thought I was the only one that did something like that!

[alala]

Ha! I have that kid! Actually, I think I have that husband too...

[Halloweenlover]

Ha ha ha! You could say it is a science experiment to see if one contained foot, versus one non-contained foot grows faster.

Yes, that's it.

[Vicky (Desperate to be a Housewife)]

We once bought our daughter two left rollerblades and didn't notice for a year and a half...hey, she never complained!

[Maria]

Gosh you're making me laugh. I "only" have 3 kids - 6 and under - and the hall closet area w/coats, boots, hats and mittens is a nightmare. Oh - and why is it my fault that you insist on taking your mittens home from day care and then they're not there... I just did the switch w/their dressers - have you come up w/a way to organize the clothes? hand-me-downs that fit, those that are in between,

Where we live it can be 20 one day and then a week later get up to 60 so I can't even fully put the summer stuff away...

[Tina]

Too funny! It's amazing what goes unnoticed in the surrounding chaos of raising kids. We do the packing/unpacking thing here in Texas with the guarantee that you will have to dig out the box you spent 40 minutes neatly packing (at least once) and root around in it, thus wrecking it, to reclaim stuff for that last upexpected (?)heat wave/cold snap, depending on the season.