Just because I'm done Christmas shopping doesn't mean I'm ready for fall. Sure, there are pumpkins on our front porch and fake bloody handprints in our windows, but I swear it can be a day past June 1st because I missed summer. Summer? What summer? IT CAN'T BE OCTOBER ALREADY.
Wait. Back up a second. Did I mention that I'm done Christmas shopping? Because I am. I may pick up a few more things between now and then, but still. DONE. DONE. DONE.
Not that I want to rub it in or anything.
But there is one thing that I wasn't done with and that was shopping for a pair of pants for Alexis to wear for gym class. Since she's a space heater with legs, I figured that I had a good month or so before we needed to graduate from shorts to pants for gym class. I was wrong. Mother Nature has decided to slap me in the face with her fickle fall weather. There's no way the kid can wear shorts to school when it's only 40 degrees outside. Not because she would complain, because she wouldn't, but because her teacher would probably make that judgey face people make when a kid wanders outside in clothing that is not appropriate for the weather.
Anyway, Alexis has gym class one day per week. On that one day per week, she gets to wear her gym clothes to school. That seems like it would be a really sweet little treat in the midst of a lame school uniform sandwich, but the dress code for gym class is worse than finding out that your cheese had mold on it after you had already taken a bite of that sandwich. The kids are required to wear a plain white or gray t-shirt and shorts or sweatpants. No logos. Just plain stuff. Oh, and did I mention that the sweatpants are supposed to have elastic at the ankles?
THAT is where the problem lies.
When I read the dress code, I interpreted it to mean, "Alexis needs to wear some sort of athletics-appropriate clothes for gym class." I figured I would send her in whatever we happened to have around. Mr. Husband, however, could be known as Mr. Literal Interpretation of the Rules because that's what he does. He read "elastic at the ankle" and took it to mean "elastic at the ankle." He doesn't believe in bending the rules even a tiny bit, so we had to set out on an emergency mission to find plain sweatpants with elastic at the ankle. (DAMN YOU, MOTHER NATURE AND YOUR STUPID 40 DEGREE DAYS IN EARLY OCTOBER.)
Easy enough, right? WRONG.
You guys, we drug that kid to no less than three malls, four big box stores, and everywhere in between in search of those damn sweatpants. Apparently elastic at the ankle is *SO* 1999 because there was not a whole lot of selection anywhere. When we did find some that were pretty much appropriate, we ran into issues with the pants fitting. Or, more accurately, not fitting. Definitely not fitting.
I should mention something. I should mention that shopping with Alexis is an adventure no matter what, but it's even more of an adventure now that she apparently doesn't get to talk while she's at school. From the second she steps off of that school bus until she falls asleep at night, her mouth is moving. So, walking around the mall with her sounds like this:
. . . La la lalala mom did you see this I like it I like pink do you like this shirt I think this shirt is super cute look how cute this is can I have this hey Justin Bieber is on that poster where are the sparkly dresses can I buy this for Cody can we go to Build-a-Bear look how cute this is do you like this I think it's cute can I have this look how cute I don't have a shirt like this I want that dress for my wedding I learned how to tie my shoes today la la lalala I know how to say pink in Spanish ooooooh look at this I want a purple dress I have shoes that would be perfect with this look there are sparkles on these jeans just like on the jeans I'm wearing my butt is sparkly do you want a sparkly butt this is really cute do you like this I like this it's so cute . . .
The girl's super power is talking without punctuation. She can do it for hours on end. HOURS.
So, we drug the kid all over Pittsburgh looking for sweatpants while she ignored all rules of "conversation." I'm not sure how it is that everyone survived. OH, WAIT. SOME OF MY BRAIN CELLS COMMITTED SUICIDE.
Here's the thing. That kid? She seemingly is not quite shaped in any sort of "average" way. I had her try on a pair of sweatpants at Target and then had to look around to see if a flood was coming. They were WAY too short. So, I grabbed the next size up. She tried them on and all seemed fine until she had the nerve to breathe and they fell to her ankles. The length was perfect but the waist was enormous.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Every time I thought we had solved the problem, I would have her try the sweatpants on and I would discover that she apparently has long legs and a tiny waist. Oh, and nobody believes in drawstring waists for little kids except me. I BELIEVE IN THEM. They just don't currently exist, so the "too big in the waist" thing was a significant problem. Call me crazy, but I think having your pants fall to your ankles in the middle of gym class might just scar a kid for life.
After hunting for several hours, we finally completed our mission (At Kmart. FREAKIN KMART. And in the boys section.). First, though, I had lots of opportunities to curse the pediatrician that said Alexis was obese back in February. I'd like to force her to take the chatterbox all over town in search of pants that are long enough but don't fall off her scrawny little self.
Obese. OBESE. What-the-hell-ever.
