Dressing the kids
Not that I ever really got to dress Diane. Her first words, after "Mommie" were "Me do!" Her gross motor development may have been delayed but her fine motor skills were way ahead of schedule: she could zip zippers and button buttons well before her third birthday.
Our first Sunday at home after her week in the hospital, where we celebrated her second birthday, I found myself fighting her fists into the sleeves of a little yellow dress, saying "You'll wear this dress because I say you're going to wear this dress!" Shades of my mother! I promised us both, then, that we would never fight over clothes.
Even at two, Diane had definite opinions about clothes. I quickly learned not to buy her anything without taking her with. It didn't matter if it was new; it didn't matter if I really liked it; if she didn't like it, it would never be on her body (I, on the other hand, had worn a prom gown I thought looked awful, because my grandmother made it and that was my prom gown. Thirty years later my grandmother found a picture and said "You really looked awful in that dress!" Yeah, I knew.) Diane loved going through bags of hand-me-downs. If it hadn't been for those bags, even on a doctor's pay I never could have gotten her enough clothes. Before she went off to kindergarten, she would change outfits six times a day if she could! (whereas one of the things that kept me from being a surgeon was how often they change clothes!).
She insisted on picking the clothes and dressing herself. It drove my mother crazy when we met her at church on Sunday and Diane was wearing her dress backwards. That was the only way she could button it, and she wouldn't let me do it for her! I looked all over for little girl dresses that buttoned in the front but there were none. She wore dresses backwards until she was seven!
When Di was in kindergarten, I ran into the Salisbury school's Spanish teacher at a fund raiser. She taught K through 6 and said she was sure she must know my daughter, but wasn't sure which one she was. I told her she was one of the two Indian children in Mrs. Stephen's class. Her eyes got wide and she started to laugh, "The one with the outfits!"
She had been talking to the headmistress' wife in the hall one day about the parent's request for uniforms, when Diane came skipping by. The woman had laughed and said "We can't get uniforms; we'd miss Diane's outfits!" When she described her, I remembered the day.
Diane had picked out stirrup pants, with jagged stripes in hot, Southwestern colors: turquoise, lime, orange and hot pink, with a fake fringed buckskin skirt over it. She wore a white T shirt with blue and purple flowers, topped with a turquoise jacket with black lightning bolts on the back, courtesy of some hand-me-down bag. Kindergarten was 1/2 day, so we stopped at Burger King for lunch. The day had gotten hot, so she left the jacket in the car. The man in front of us in line turned, looked at her and said "Wow! You're really colorful!'
My little five-year-old looked up at him and said, "You should have seen it with the jacket on!"
The next few years, Diane went to the Mennonite School in Greenwood. The dress code was fairly strict: sleeves, high necks, skirts to the knee. Girls' hair had to be at least shoulder length. Culottes were acceptable, or skirts but not shorts or pants for the girls. At the beginning of each school year I read her the dress code and told her she could pick her own clothes but needed to abide by the code. Culottes were interpreted by most of the parents as baggy shorts that were at least knee length, since they didn't really make culottes for kids.
Poetry day was a big event. The students entered the gym lined up by class. Kindergarten and first grade girls all looked the same: two pigtails hanging below the shoulder, dresses with sashes tied in the back, puffy sleeves, full skirts to the top of the knee. Second grade looked the same except for Diane: hair long and loose (and also dark; most of the Mennonite girls were blonds), culottes, flowered T shirt: well, it met the rules! Third and fourth grade looked like first and second. Fifth grade all looked like Diane! I wasn't sure if she was the trend setter or just copying the trend a lot faster than the rest of the class but it didn't bode well!
Nerissa on the other hand was like me; I could walk into a dark room, pick shorts and shirt out of the drawer, put them on her (she was in no rush to dress herself; nor was I - I think my grandmother was still putting on my socks and shoes when I was, oh, like 11), and she would happily leave them on till she changed into pajamas. My mother always told me that clothes weren't important. Diane was born believing that they were. I think she has a daughter like her now. Makes the world a much more colorful place - like wildflowers!
Our first Sunday at home after her week in the hospital, where we celebrated her second birthday, I found myself fighting her fists into the sleeves of a little yellow dress, saying "You'll wear this dress because I say you're going to wear this dress!" Shades of my mother! I promised us both, then, that we would never fight over clothes.
Even at two, Diane had definite opinions about clothes. I quickly learned not to buy her anything without taking her with. It didn't matter if it was new; it didn't matter if I really liked it; if she didn't like it, it would never be on her body (I, on the other hand, had worn a prom gown I thought looked awful, because my grandmother made it and that was my prom gown. Thirty years later my grandmother found a picture and said "You really looked awful in that dress!" Yeah, I knew.) Diane loved going through bags of hand-me-downs. If it hadn't been for those bags, even on a doctor's pay I never could have gotten her enough clothes. Before she went off to kindergarten, she would change outfits six times a day if she could! (whereas one of the things that kept me from being a surgeon was how often they change clothes!).
She insisted on picking the clothes and dressing herself. It drove my mother crazy when we met her at church on Sunday and Diane was wearing her dress backwards. That was the only way she could button it, and she wouldn't let me do it for her! I looked all over for little girl dresses that buttoned in the front but there were none. She wore dresses backwards until she was seven!
When Di was in kindergarten, I ran into the Salisbury school's Spanish teacher at a fund raiser. She taught K through 6 and said she was sure she must know my daughter, but wasn't sure which one she was. I told her she was one of the two Indian children in Mrs. Stephen's class. Her eyes got wide and she started to laugh, "The one with the outfits!"
She had been talking to the headmistress' wife in the hall one day about the parent's request for uniforms, when Diane came skipping by. The woman had laughed and said "We can't get uniforms; we'd miss Diane's outfits!" When she described her, I remembered the day.
Diane had picked out stirrup pants, with jagged stripes in hot, Southwestern colors: turquoise, lime, orange and hot pink, with a fake fringed buckskin skirt over it. She wore a white T shirt with blue and purple flowers, topped with a turquoise jacket with black lightning bolts on the back, courtesy of some hand-me-down bag. Kindergarten was 1/2 day, so we stopped at Burger King for lunch. The day had gotten hot, so she left the jacket in the car. The man in front of us in line turned, looked at her and said "Wow! You're really colorful!'
My little five-year-old looked up at him and said, "You should have seen it with the jacket on!"
The next few years, Diane went to the Mennonite School in Greenwood. The dress code was fairly strict: sleeves, high necks, skirts to the knee. Girls' hair had to be at least shoulder length. Culottes were acceptable, or skirts but not shorts or pants for the girls. At the beginning of each school year I read her the dress code and told her she could pick her own clothes but needed to abide by the code. Culottes were interpreted by most of the parents as baggy shorts that were at least knee length, since they didn't really make culottes for kids.
Poetry day was a big event. The students entered the gym lined up by class. Kindergarten and first grade girls all looked the same: two pigtails hanging below the shoulder, dresses with sashes tied in the back, puffy sleeves, full skirts to the top of the knee. Second grade looked the same except for Diane: hair long and loose (and also dark; most of the Mennonite girls were blonds), culottes, flowered T shirt: well, it met the rules! Third and fourth grade looked like first and second. Fifth grade all looked like Diane! I wasn't sure if she was the trend setter or just copying the trend a lot faster than the rest of the class but it didn't bode well!
Nerissa on the other hand was like me; I could walk into a dark room, pick shorts and shirt out of the drawer, put them on her (she was in no rush to dress herself; nor was I - I think my grandmother was still putting on my socks and shoes when I was, oh, like 11), and she would happily leave them on till she changed into pajamas. My mother always told me that clothes weren't important. Diane was born believing that they were. I think she has a daughter like her now. Makes the world a much more colorful place - like wildflowers!
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