Pick Your Battles

Man, that sounds like such obvious sane advice. So simple, so reasonable, so straight forward. But nothing in those parenting books explains how to deal with when your beautiful offspring have drawn a line in the sand, and you have to cross it.

Earning a Coat of Arms

Some of my children suffer severe allergies to winter garments. The very notion of long sleeves makes them break out in tears. They beg, please, let them wear the thinnest t-shirt I haven't squirreled away into winter storage and they'll be so good.

Fortunately, being children, they don't hunt and search terribly well. So I've hidden all the summer wear in the one place they'll never find it; the coat closet.

But they still roll up their sleeves and turn jeans into capri pants. At this point, I have to just pretend I don't know it's 48 degrees outside and windy and have occasionally sent in post-its to the teachers. "THEY INSISTED ON WEARING THIS." so as to have plausible deniability. I also have offered home made chocolate chip cookies on Friday to any kid who wears sweaters and long pants all week long.

The cookies work except for the fact that it's hard to keep the non sweater wearing from also grabbing the goodies which undermines the motivation for anymore than one child to comply each week.

Death Before Hand Me Downs

It's a reality in a big family, you have dresses, coats, shoes and shirts that kids outgrow long before they're worn out. But the kids view these "gifts" as having sibling cooties. The stuff will languish in their closets even as they come to me howling, "I don't have anything to wear." Picking my battles, I've learned to use tissues and package clothing I know the kids can wear but won't if they think it came from a brother or sister.  The younger ones buy it...or did until the older ones pointed out they're hand me downs.  I've not yet taken to adding price tags but...it might be the next step.

You Can Have My...NEVER

When my oldest turned 8, all he loved was Pokemon. I got him an airbrushed t-shirt with Charizard on it. It was two sizes too big, but he wore it until he was two sizes too big for it.

After trying to donate it three times and having him fish it from the charity box, one time in the dead of night, I waited until he was at school. I planned to stuff it in a bag, I couldn't find it. Perhaps he'd grown up. Perhaps he'd donated it himself. That evening, eyes full of tears, he told me. He worried I'd clear out his stuff that didn't fit anymore, and he'd put it under his bed in his fold away drawer. My son was hiding his old clothes from me. Why was I so determined to get rid of something he loved? I surrendered with the promise, he wouldn't try to wear it anymore.

Pick your battles I told myself. The experience stayed with me. My five year old still tries to wear a size 6 months tutu she received as an infant. I'm not going to even think about putting it in a charity box.

How Serious is the Dress Code?

Crown and fairy wings at mass? We've done that. Robin, complete with mask and cape for bedtime? We've done that too. Tutus with red cowboy boots? No problem. I thought I knew how to "pick my battles." Until I had a 4 year old who believed slippers and sandals should be worn everyday everywhere. When the weather dipped below 25 degrees,I learned to keep a spare set of acceptable shoes in the car. But sometimes in the process of getting out of the car, I'd forget and then, the "Shame on you" looks would come from the woman at the deli when we grocery shopped. "You know, you pick your battles," I'd say and smile weakly.

"You lost." she'd say as she handed me my 1/2 pound of provolone cheese.

So after two decades of trying to pick your battles, I've discovered the true meaning of that phrase...accept that what you are picking, is not which ones to fight, but which ones you're willing to lose.

Man Shop

The battle of the sexes is never more clearly thrown into relief than in the quest for food. There is something of a primal revolution between the hunter/gatherers and the nurturer/growers that takes place when one or the other utters the phrase, “Honey, I’m going to the store, do you need anything?” When this Darwinian battle between male and female is combined with the stated New Year’s Objective to be frugal about spending and only buy what we need, not what we want, there are issues.

First day. Man makes the offer, more as a courtesy, as he already has a preconceived notion of what he will get. Woman responds by saying, “Wait a minute, I’ll make a list.” Man is impatient. Wants to get going. Waits for list. List is left in car. Woman angrily goes to grocery store to get items on list, also feels entitled to free associate spend, after all, he did. Critical items get forgotten until a third necessity shop via running into the 7-11 is done.

Four days later. Man makes the offer. Woman is ready, having pre-prepared the list with legible print. She hands him list and coupons. Man follows list fitfully and willfully ignores coupons due to hassle factor. Woman complains about budget. She shops the next day, uses coupons and gets things, makes a point of how she saved money. Man points out they would have saved more if she hadn’t shopped at all.

Friday. Man is driving home. Gets drafted to shop by Woman via a text message list. Man goes in to get target items only. Man cannot find items on list. Buys every possible alternative he can think of, except the ones that would actually serve as acceptable substitutes.

Weekend. Woman decides to go shopping for the week. Man gives budget. Discusses need to pare down and simplify. Woman goes and gets items SHE KNOWS she will need . Blows budget by a factor of 4. Man shakes head.

The Next Week. Man decides to go shopping next week. Gets items sparingly. Stays in budget. Brings home humble offerings. Woman and man both complain that there aren’t any special things on the menu. Midway through week, order take out the rest of the nights for dinner.

The following week. Woman decides to go shopping and splurges just a little bit, staying mostly on budget, cutting corners where she can and still getting a few extras for a gourmet meal that evening. Man has invited friends over for dinner that weekend. A splurge shop at the high priced gourmet grocery store follows.

The Tipping Point. Man goes to shop with sole stated goal of staying on budget. Comes home with Four gallon Jar of Ragu and seventeen boxes of pasta. “We’ll drink water.” He says. After three days, both go together to the store and buy like drunken sailors.

They also order pizza to eat for dinner, being too exhausted from gathering food to cook.

Next Week’s Battle of the Sexes: The Laundry would take up much less of our time if you just followed my system.