Clothesbombing: The act of deliberately returning your child to your ex-spouse’s house in clothes that are too small, so as not to lose the “good” clothes.
I took my big kid, Franny, to school today to ditch her for two weeks over at her dad’s house. The minutiae of sharing a child are so stupid I can’t even tell you. For instance: clothes. For a while as a single mom I was really, really broke. And then I joined forces with Companion to become…two really, really broke people. We took a lot of walks together.
The point is, for quite a while we were worried about clothes, because just when you have a drawer full of cute, well-fitting clothes it took you hours to thrift, beg, borrow, or steal you take a deep breath and relax. And then a month goes by…and the perfect little pants you scored are now capris that cannot be snapped up. (Lesson: do not spawn with tall people or your child will constantly be running around in tiny pants.) This reminds me, I need to up Franny’s cigar and black coffee intake. Let it not be said that I run an inefficient household.
So there was a lot of stress about clothes disappearing. Many times Franny would leave in something normal, and in well-fitting shoes, and would return in lederhosen, a tube top, and moon boots that were two sizes too small. She has literally come into my house and said, “OH, I need to get these off! They are way too tiny, but my dad made me wear them.”
I cannot do this to her. It pains in my financial place to see her walk out the door in the “good” clothes, knowing it won’t come back for three months (too small) but I am trying to accept it as something I can’t change. He just sent her back in boots that were too small, so I had to shop for her immediately
Adding to the mix, Franny has tag/seam/shoelace sensitivity issues, so I am shopping at Nordstrom for shoes now. She wears Vans and other slip-ons, and boots with zippers. It’s certainly more money than Payless, but they take things back even if they’ve been worn. Which is critical with Franny. She can fall in love with shoes and then decide a week later that they are actually uncomfortable. And then she will stop and adjust them every few feet as we are out on a walk, eventually bursting into tears of frustration. So now I am buying higher-quality shoes that she likes the look of (often only one pair at Payless would “work” but she would reject them on looks), AND that can be exchanged for something else if they don’t work out. The extra money is so worth it for us.
But I really don’t want to see her nice leather Stride Rite boots vanish off at her dad’s, to be replaced by some foam platform sandal clusterfuck that her heels hang off by about an inch (true story). So I took her to Fred last night, and bought her a pair of fifteen dollar Sketchers-knockoff maryjanes, which she will probably wear to school and home where they will disappear into the back of her closet. This is lame, but acceptable.
The word on the street now is that they are broke over at the other house, so there is some agitating about “their” clothes that I am hoarding over here. I make every effort so send her back in the clothes she came in, but I draw the line at a couple of things. 1. My kid does not get sent out in too small clothes that she’s uncomfortable in. She gets cold enough right now in clothes that cover her ankles. 2. I will not send her back in seasonally inappropriate clothes. Recently Franny came in the snow in a pair of (real) Capri pants that they had bought in France on their honeymoon. Franny’s stepmother is agitating for them to come back, but if I send them in a bag with what she’s wearing, then we lose more clothes.
Do you see what I mean about annoying minutiae? And that’s just clothes.
My kid left the house this morning clean, appropriately-dressed, and well-fed. I kissed her at the gate. It’s all I can do.
GOD. What a clusterfuck. I am so annoyed for Franny (and for you, but you are a Big Girl). That kind of shit drives me inSANE. Plus, I have Auntie Flo.
Dude. Me too. I see a connection with the calendar and number of rants here.
ME TOO! (And I love the Cake references!)
Gah! That would drive me insane. More insane than RW drives me even at our worst moments. I must remember this at our worst moments.
Mermaid Girl also has seam sensitivity and will only put on shoes if she has first taken hold of her sock and moved it around so the seam is in exactly the right place and then she puts the shoe on quicly before the seam can slip away. And is also fickle about shoes, to our cost. So, I sympathize.
On the occasion that my kids stay at my sister-in-laws house, who has four kids of her own, I send my kids in old clothes with ripped out knees or a worn ass. It really pisses me off when I call to see where their pants or shirts are and I get an, “Hmm, I’m not sure, I’ll ask the girls if they found them.” I never get stuff back. I’d have to go over there and hunt myself which I have done a few times. The horrible part is that I’ve caught their youngest sporting clothes that are MY KIDS’! OMG, that makes me so mad. I make sure they take no extra stuff with them and only older play clothes. The kids don’t care and they’re only going over there to plan anyhow, so atleast I get to keep the good stuff! I feel for ya! BTW moon boots had me rollin’ laughing! Napoleon! LMAO
My mother has the same sensitivity to seams/laces/tags. I always am driven half mad with pity for her and half mad with annoyance about it. I know it is hard to ignore being uncomfortable, but at the same time, I feel utterly helpless about it. Poor Franny and my mommy.
Ah, the life of a growing child with two homes! :) Fun for all.
Yup, those were the days…
I lived with my grandma and my mom so I had twice the shit and I was an only child so I liked to hoarde things as well. I still do.
I had a similar problem with my mother-in-law when my kids were real little, id send nice clothes that I would never see again or she’d forget who they belong to and give it to some other kid, finally I started sending play clothes that I didn’t care if I ever saw again, (they were to little to care then) however Id send nice clothes to my moms ’cause she would send it home, my mom-in-law caught me packing the kid up for my moms house once and asked “how come she gets cute stuff and I get the crappy clothes?” it was refreshing to tell her Because SHE sends them home.
The crappy clothes! Nice. Ha!
My mother went through the same thing with my younger brother from another father. Every single time she would send him to his dad’s with a bag packed full of new, comfortable clothes and the poor kid would come home with the one outfit he was wearing and an almost empty bag with just socks and undies with skidmarks because his dad didn’t have running water and they had to make poops in the woods. I know, I know. In his defense, that’s not so unheard of in Alaska.
When I was a kid, my clothes were mine and went with me, and I basically lived out of a suitcase. That method works better with a boy in a ‘weekend dad’ situation rather than the 2 on 2 off thing that you’ve got going. Makes me so glad that my parents avoided squabbles like this. Maybe Franny would like a steamer trunk for groundhog’s day.
Good luck. I hope she comes back appropriately dressed but it sounds like you should not hold your breath.
When does that growing thing stop? The shoes thing is major! You almost want to super glue them to their feet.
Oy. that sounds like a fricking nightmare. capris in the SNOW? who the hell cares if they are french? (I now feel like an all indignant GOOD parent–because, seriously).
I feel like I’ve discovered a new sisterhood, one where The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is more like The Sisterhood of the Disappearing Paycheck. Though in my case, the ex insists that because he pays child support, everything was paid for by him, anyway. (This is 100% true, as the money I earn myself all goes to heroin and hookers.)
After a few particularly tense situations over clothes not being returned, he is now pretty good about washing/returning things, although I do have to remind him of our daughter’s proclivity towards hoarding things in the bottom of the closet. His latest, however, is to buy them clothes (even though I pack for them) for some reason, and what he buys is invariably tacky AND too small. I try to remember to send it back, but sometimes it disappears. Whoops!
(Hey, I can’t help it if the “please don’t dress your tween daughter like a streetwalker” conversation fell on deaf ears. Desperate times and all that.)