Ok, ready for a glimpse into my strange mind? I have a real hang up about how my kids look. Ask Kevin, he’ll attest to my strange paranoia. Since he has the fashion sense of, well, a man, I never let him dress the girls. He’ll pick some awful mismatch, rumpled, worn outfit and my heart will cringe. One glance at my poor little fashion victims and I’ll rush to their closet and pick out an entirely new outfit. I can’t help myself. I just can’t let my kids out of the house looking ungroomed. I see other kids happily frolicing about in the PJ’s they slept in with tangled hair and flip flops and I just want to grab them and change their clothes. There are far too many cute kid clothes out there to waste a day in stained long johns people!

So, here’s the problem. The other day, Kevin let Leina pick out her own outfit. Admittedly, I was sick in bed and unable to avert this disaster in the making because Leina, at three, has about as much fashion sense as Kevin. The resulting outfit was horrendous. And now? Now, Leina insists on picking her own clothes. And it is awful. Every day I watch her approach her closet and a little part of my soul dies. I love picking her clothes. I love shopping for her outfits. I love how fresh and sweet she looks after I get her dressed. I love hugging her warm little body while she helps me get herself dresssed. Now, my soul withers when she pushed me away and announces she will be dressing herself this morning.

Now, part of me knows that I should let her choose her own daily wear. This is a sign of independence and they are just clothes. Right? But when I see Leina struggling into a pair of pajama shorts and a turtleneck t-shirt, something inside me snaps.

My new plan is to teach Leina about fashion. The idea of dressing for the weather, dressing for the activity, and dressing in style. She’s more than willing to listen and nod at the appropriate moments but I don’t know if anything is sinking in or not. She still insists that a green and white stripped turtleneck, a pink heart skirt and a pair of red knee-high Dora socks are just “perfect” for a day at the water park. I try every so gently to sway her toward, say, the tank top and shorts but no. She’s quite sure that her Dora socks are the way to go. I’m beginning to suspect she has not only inherited her father’s blue eyes but also his fashion sense as well. In which case, I have a long road ahead of me.

I always knew that eventually I’d lost control of Leina closet. But honestly, I never thought I’d be so soon. So if you see my kid hopping down the street with moppet hair and clothes that look like I grabbed them blindfolded from the Goodwill reject pile, give me a pat on the back for managing to let go ’cause I’ll need it!