While I never truly need a great reason to feel like white trash (I have toys in my yard, I wear sweat pants to the grocery, and we are one of the only homes on the block that doesn’t spend all day Saturday tidying up the lawn and flowers much to my neighbor’s dismay)…there is just something about having the dirty kid rolling around the house in only a diaper and a mischievous smile that just drives that “maybe, maybe not” directly to the most-certainly-you-are-white-trash-just-look-at-your-child-for-goodness-sakes side of the meter.
Jp has always hated baths but now, in all of his infinite wisdom, he has decided that he hates clothes just as much.
At least when he was dressed you could not tell he was filthy because his clothes were clean. Now he just looks like something out of a bad movie about a trailer park. I feel like I should just roll my hair up in curlers and drink beer in the yard. Why not, right?
The more I try to put clothes on him– the more he takes them off. On. Off. On. Off. It is enough to make your head spin. And in the end I just give up and let him run around in his skivvies.
Parenting (while maintaining the minimum amount of sanity required not to pull your hair out) is all about picking your battles. I am not going to make myself crazy -and my laundry pile ridiculous- trying to keep this kid in cute duds.
In the meantime…I have to go try and throw Pigpen in the bathtub. Wish me luck. 😉
I'm just living minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.