Ooops - I Did It Again

I want to preface today's confession by making it clear that I love being a parent because my son has taught me to appreciate the beauty in the simple parts of life, because he is a source of endless joy (& seemingly, tanturms!), because playing and being with him is really the most wonderful way to spend a day... yada yada... you get the picture.

I have wanted children for as long as I can remember.
I think childhood is the most magical time and love that we boring big people get to relive it through being with children.

Buuuuut...


I also really like dressing my child.
Always have.
Not the actually act of hanging clothes on a sometimes resistant, squirming, flailing or flat-out-refusing small person.
No. I mean the choosing of clothing.
The coordination of an outfit.
The styling of one's child, if you like!!


Yep. I know it's not an important part of this role I play and that it's a tad superficial and pathetic. That it is vain, unnecessary and a waste of time.
I. Don't. Care.


Ever since I fell pregnant (and before, if I'm truthful)  teeny, tiny clothes have captivated me.
I'm not into designer pretty much anything.
Cute, adorable, funky  -  it doesn't have to come with a breathtaking price tag.
Especially not if cute,adorable and funky will be spending some serious time with messy, creative and dirty.


Magoo has been a gorgeous, mostly compliant little clothes horse since he was born.
(This window of opportunity will surely close one of these days.)
I have loved choosing his outfits with care.
I am no wardrobe nazi though.
Magoo gets to make choices. 
Usually between two hand selected items that will coordinate with the rest of his outfit!!
Jocks and socks don't even escape the meticulous planning and colour coordinating.
Ditching nappies was a joy - because now underwear adds a whole nother element to our outfits!
I'm not kidding.

Hubby is a little frightened to tackle the task of dressing Magoo for fear of disappointment on my part.
I've even taken to laying Magoo's clothes out the night before if I won't be there to dress him.
Anybody say control freak?
In my defence, this has come to pass because I've returned from running group on many a Saturday morning to be greeted by a little man who looks as though someone threw his entire wardrobe at him and went with whatever stuck.


Magoo's grandparents have nicknamed him 'Imelda' thanks to his impressive selection of shoes. I'm sorry, but the shoes maketh the outfit.
Recently, I was filled with pride (or a sick feeling) when Magoo piped up with "look Mummy, your shoes would go with my pants too."
It's safe to say the boys knows his colours (complimentary & contrasting).


All this child styling is a bit of fun (or could go as far as being called a fixation hobby!) until this happens.

Muuum. Not again.
This morning - gym bound.
Blue & white stripes were the order of the day.

I very regularly and COMPLETELY subconsciously dress Magoo and I in similar clothing, styles or colours.
(Family photo shoots excepted. That's deliberate all the way. I have vivd memories of the family pic from my childhood in which my two siblings, my parents and myself all wore a selection of colours, stripes,checks and patterns in the one photo. That pic literally hurts your eyes.)

I have been doing this for almsot three years now.
I wasn't even aware of my unfortunate 'habit' until Hubby brought it to my attention a couple of months into this Mummy thing.

Magoo and I have had matching red tracksuit days, denim & colour combos, similar printed tees, complimentary hoodies and jackets, colour coordinated bathers and even strangely similar shoes!

I'm abhorred by those child beauty pageants and the botox Mum had me fuming -
but I'm definitely guilty of a little 'child jooshing' myself.

Anyone else get a kick out of playing dress ups with a real, live doll?

Just me, then?
Ok.

Shar :-)