Like the post two weeks back, when it was all pictures even though I had so much of a story I wanted to tell in words.
…Aaaaand he’s off.
The above black crepe number has been his preferred nightgown for days. Â Though it often doubles as daytime wear as well. Â Most days he prefers a skirt, with or without the smart pants look underneath. Â Depends on the weather. Â He has great legs; both looks are really good on him.
A post one day about how his haberdashery peregrinations teach us stuff about ourselves (our fears, our shame, our naescent courage, or rather that which we try our best to develop), and how we try to navigate it all.  At such time as I can spend some time writing it.  In the meantime you can find much rich rich stuff already writ at Labels Are For Jars, plus at the blogs in the blogroll she keeps.  I, along with so many parents, began reading her blog with one level of interest, and then as our son began to grow older and express his own active desires for his full self, I went back into it, now much closer to the edge of my seat.  We all need each other.
Meanwhile, don’t even get me started about the only daily fashion choice of his that actually does give a frickin’ hernia: the diapers. Â Really. Â We had talked about him letting them go when he turned three. Â Then a few days before his third birthday he was all, “Psyche! Â I meant when I was five!”
We persist in believing that it’s better for our children to be anal expressive than anal retentive. Â Meaning, I guess, that we are deluding ourselves into thinking that the loosey-goosey approach will pay dividends when they start having relationships with sweeties as young adults? And they process their feelings? And find that, well, they’re freely expressive? And not retentive?
No, really. Don’t get me started with the diapers. Â Clearly we’re in the dark here.
On a cheery note, though, we took the same tack with the older sister — encouraged her regularly, had her watch her older cousins to see what fun they were having with it all, told her that at some point at preschool they may just mysteriously run out of their diaper supply (enablers!).  But when she was ready, she was ready.  Never wet a bed. Never looked back. Like a bird taking flight from a nest.
Bless, that is ADORABLE!
My son went through a stage when he was about a year, where he was really into my jewellery. I kept the bright bead and plastic stuff in boxes by my side of the bed, and in the mornings he would have such a terrific time going through my stash, taking everything out, festooning himself, putting it back. It looked like a little pirate with his horde.
Several times I took him to playgroup in whatever getup he seemed keen on- one particular occasion he was wearing a triple string of plastic pearls, a stripy blue jumper, jeans, rubber boots in the shape of frogs and he had a beaded handbag slung over his shoulder.
Sadly, he outgrew this.
My mum very rapidly potty-trained him using bribery, and I’ve been trying the same technique to get him to sleep in his own bed,but with no luck so far.
x
Wow! Thanks for the tip on Labels Are for Jars. Looks like a good blog … and it looks like there are several others out there on this. The revolution is afoot.
Your boy is so lovely.
My wife and I are coming at this issue and thinking these thoughts for different reasons … we both shop in the men’s sections, when we shop at all, but our girl is GIRLIE! She’s all about pink and sparkles and princesses (we’re hoping the princess obsession morphs into fairies). It’s a very funny thing to be slightly butch/androgynous and have a teeny femme on the loose in the house. We’re embracing the pink, feeling a bit nostalgic for the tiny western shirts. I know my heart has opened to this … I’ve developed a fondness for that pale, bunny-ear pink. And that’s the point, isn’t it?
Thank you, THANK YOU, for writing about your son so poignantly and candidly. May other folks with perhaps a bit less courage and a bit more anxiety and a lot more heteronormativity structured in their lives find this and be moved and inspired by it. This IS how progress is made.
I remember when my brother and sister-in-law were anxious about my nephew’s “late” transition to no diapers. They read in a book somewhere that said you should let the kid run around completely bare from the waist down when playing outside. The theory went that if he wet/soiled himself it would be more uncomfortable and, therefore, and incentive to mastering how to “hold it”. I’ll never forget watching my nephew, pantless, trying to climb up the slide backwards with his butt in the air. He turned away to look at something and revealed a huge leaf that was partially wedged in his crack of which he was completely oblivious. It was the last day they tried that experiment. Que sera, sera.
You’re boy….he’s beautiful. Diaper and all, I’ll say (from the not-dealing-with-it-daily perspective, that is).
Thanks for the honesty and courage of sharing this look into your life and for the blush-inducing mention of my own little blog. It seems it’s fulfilling it’s intention, if you are reading multiple sets of eyes.
Looking forward to hearing more about this journey of yours as we continue to wend our way along the path.
I foresee a blog interview somewhere in the future….perhaps?
Youbetcha bygum on the interview. If you let me do one of you first! Blush schmush! We were all little, once! Says the former zygote, current who-knows-what/ever-in-transition/alls-I-know-is-that-loving-still-matters.