Not yet 2 and already a Fashionista!?!

I'm not a big follower of trends, mostly because whenever I see one, I think "I could never pull that off!". But, as a teen my room was strewn with clothes, not because I took off my dirty clothes and dropped them on the floor (because I had a laundry chute for that), but rather, my room was a pile of clean, but rejected clothes. Every weekend night and many weekday mornings I'd try on clothes, not like something about them, and take them off, adding them to the pile of clothes to be put away later. I never thought this part of history would repeat itself until my children were in their teens, and I hoped...nay, dreamed that maybe because I have boys, the cycle would end with me. But life never happens as we expect.


With Luke there would sometimes be some bargaining to get him to pick a shirt and pants that he was happy wearing and that made me happy because they didn't totally clash (I have OMD, but more about that later), but there were few battles. We are now going into hours 2 of today's Let's get Toby dressed battle, in which I'm taking a short blogging break to try to regain some sanity and perspective.

Like I mentioned before, I have what I call OMD - Obsessive Matching Disorder. My bra and panties have always matched (that is, as long as I've been wearing a bra). Back in the day of scrunchies I had an entire drawer full so that I always had one to wear that matched. Even when I'm sick, my clothes may be stained with vomit, but you'd better believe that they match. I'd rather have my hands pulled up into my sleeves with frostbite nipping at my fingers than to wear gloves that clash with my jacket. It's a disease. I know it's unreasonable, but it's like I can't help myself.

On days like today when there are more dirty clothes in the hamper than clean clothes in the drawers, Toby is my OMD shock therapy:

This shirt?
No.
How about this one?
No.
Look at this one? It has an alligator on it!
No.
You could wear this red one...just like Luke's red shirt.
No.
Okay, why don't you just pick one out of the drawer?
No.
Come on, just PICK one!
No.
Let's try pants first then, do you want to wear jeans?
Jeans!
Okay, put these ones on.
No.
Which ones do you want?
These.
(Puts them on)
Small!
No they're not too small, let's get a shirt...
(Pulling the pants off) No, No No!
Okay, how about sweatpants?
No.
and on the story goes...

I no longer care if Toby's clothes match, and frankly this morning I no longer care if he has clothes at all, but it's rather cold outside to be streaking, so I guess we're stuck at home until I get the laundry done for him to pick out something he does like.