The whole washing hullabaloo has not been the biggest drama ever for most of the kids. They are all pretty used to searching through clean washing on the 'washing lounge' (names make lounges special after all.) The only one not coping so well, apart from me, was Henry.
Henry is cool. He really, really is. He is a sixteen year old in a four year old's body. He completely loves choosing clothes, adding his own flair. He can manage to pick out plaid pants, a random tee, green slip-on shoes, and he is good to go. I use threats of track pants as punishment. And I can only cut his hair to the maximum school allowable length.
Yesterday he attended the school book parade for his siblings, in the freezing cold and rain, with Grandma, Daisy and his cousin (yay Grandma!) He had on a Batman suit with clothes on underneath. Only there were no clothes. His few pairs of 'cool' pants were in the wash. Apparently freezing cold with no clothes is better than clothes that don't reach his high standards.
I could have argued with him. I could have told him that he has perfectly good clothes in his drawer.
But I didn't.
Here's why.
It's his thing. He likes to dress the way he does, with his hair never looking quite brushed, and he will NOT accept anything less. With me, that's totally okay.
Because I have things too.
I have lots of things. I like to read instead of fold washing. I need warm Activite before bed. I sleep the best under a quilt I made plus a dressing gown (it's the exact right weight- which matters!) I hate breakfast and peas and mornings. I love nighttime and sleep and tea. I find comfort in words: spoken, written, and meaningful. I live for the lightbulb moment in a child's eyes. Laying down next to one of my children calms me almost instantly, and a hug can always improve my mood.
So I have things. All grown ups do. Yet so often I hear that kids just have to learn to fall into line. Whatever that line is.
The problem with the line is that the line is invisible and kids just don't see it. I say yay for them. Often they are just too new to the world to conform or walk the imaginary line. When I see them skipping through the shopping centre dressed as fairies in gum boots, it reminds me of the different that is actually normal. Usually, it's just hidden by the sensible adults we have tried to become.
Our normals are all different. What is regular, ordinary and common for one person or family, would in fact be different for another.
In a way, I decide what I think is normal. And I'm wrong most of the time, because my normal is different from everyone else's normal. Which means that normals are actually mostly different. Yep. Different is in fact the only really norm.
It's a little like there really isn't an out-of-the-box, because there really isn't an in-the-box. Reason? Because the box doesn't have to be a thing in the first place. Thinking can be just thinking. It doesn't need a label. It doesn't need someone to give it a high five and tell that it is out-of-the-box. Thinking can just be because, and for no reason or purpose, or use. Thinking can just be.
And so can the creativity of kids. But that's a topic for another time.
While I hide my different with perceived normal, from habit more than anything, I will encourage my children to be okay with their different.
Their 'things' which make them, them, are all good with me. Whether it be a teepee in the backyard, doing homework with music on, taking 15 teddies to bed, liking only orange veggies for the moment, or wanting to wear only 'cool' pants; it's fine. I support the different. I support them.
I will continue to tell them different is normal. The world would be a pretty boring place if we were all the same. We are all different on purpose. And the box just doesn't exist.
So off the shops we went.
Henry chose some bright blue corduroy pants. He plans to wear them with his green shoes and cool top (I have no idea which one.)
For us, this is oh so normal. And awesome.
Indeed, being different is normal.
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