Today has been a hodgepodge of little things. The doctors appointment I had this morning was for ears, nose, throat. I was disappointed that she didn't look into my throat and say, "Oh, here's your problem. It can cause bloating, stomach cramps, and even pulmonary embolisms -- and it can be cured with this one little pill." Wouldn't that have been nice?
Instead she said that she sees so many people diagnosed with gastropareisis (last year, it means my stomach is not digesting like it should) -- something about path of least resistance, and reflux and six weeks for my throat to heal, etc. Even though the whole pulmonary embolism thing stays in the top danger spot, I should start treating the gastropareisis again to push things through my stomach and keep it from flowing back up into my esophagus when I lie down and causing these nice acid burns that are, in turn, causing so much pain and swelling.
Then (I'm sure there were other things between now that I've forgotten, but this one really bothered me) the County-wide school board where I live is considering requiring a dress code. I hate the idea.
I think that it doesn't do the equalizing that the adults think it does. (Do they not remember how it worked? Wearing the same style clothing will not help when some of them fit perfectly and others might have things a little too large, a little too small, a little wrinkled or poorly fitted.) Which leaves it as a financial burden and an attempt to force our children into cookie cutter molds -- or as one proponent argued -- a preparation for the adult world of dress codes, like Target or banks (or McDonalds)... starting in kindergarten. Can you imagine?
Let them be children!
Let them explore the world and self expression through style and clothing.
I know of children (pre-school age) who wore cow costumes for a week straight. My little boy refused to take off his Superman pajamas for two days. And that's OK. If I took him to school, pre-school, or daycare I might have pushed harder that whole thing that we change our clothes each day, but I figured that as long as we didn't have a spill or diaper accident we would certainly live.
He was thrilled to choose who he wanted to be each day.
And then it ended when some passing stranger said, "Well, if it isn't Superman, come to visit us today!" In that overly cheerful voice that some people use when talking to strange children.
He looked up and replied, "No, I Daegan." And he changed his clothes, himself, the moment we got home.
Besides. I don't think my children need to be prepared for the uniformed world. I think they need time to figure out who they are and what they enjoy -- then they can choose which world they want to be a part of, uniformed or not.
I certainly don't think the county should choose for them.
Or for me.