Underwear Slave

Okay.  This whole underwear thing of Madeleine's is getting out of control.

I may have mentioned in past blog posts that Madeleine has, somewhere along the way, designated a specific pair of underwear for each day of the week.  It took me awhile to even understand this concept, as she came upon this decision without providing any information to anyone.  In the early days of the specified underwear obsession, things went kind of like this:

MADELEINE: Mommy!  You picked out my SATURDAY underwear, and today is THURSDAY!
ME: ?....?....?!?...


I gradually came to learn which underwear are her Saturday underwear.  The light blue ones with black polka dots.  It helped that she also had a designated Saturday outfit, at least during the summer months; a magenta sundress.  It also helped that during the summer she was mostly in bathing suits for the mornings, and would pick out her own clothes and undies after we returned home from swim clinics.

Then the school year started and the underwear hit the proverbial fan.

Because Madeleine is SO.  DAMN.  SLOW. about getting herself up and groomed and dressed in the morning, I make sure that she has an outfit picked out and laid on her floor the night before.  This doesn't necessarily make her move any faster because she is an expert at finding stalling techniques, but it at least removes the wasted time in the mornings digging through drawers to find an acceptable outfit to wear.  Here's the problem, though: I am expected to pick out the correct underwear corresponding to the day of the week.  And I just might have a lot more pressing issues occupying my brain than remembering which pair of underwear goes with which day.

Madeleine finds this unacceptable.

Here are some examples of the criticisms and demands lobbed my way should I drop the ball on the underwear thing.

MADELEINE: Mommy!  Why did you pick out my SUNDAY underwear?

or

MADELEINE: Uh, Mommy, can you do laundry today?  Because my THURSDAY underwear are still in my laundry basket!

or

MADELEINE: Mommy, you ALWAYS pick out my Saturday underwear on days that AREN'T Saturday!


One day, at school pick-up, the bell rang and Madeleine ran to where I was standing on the playground.  Instead of being greeted with a hug or a "hello," this is what I got:

MADELEINE: Mommy?  First of all: TOTALLY wrong underwear today, and secondly...

I actually don't even remember the "secondly" part, because my brain was so outraged by the recrimination over the underwear.  I mean, can she not just put the offending underwear back in her drawer and pick out the correct ones her own self?!?  Does she think that I'm going to have hurt feelings if she changes the underwear I picked for the "proper" ones?  Man, it's a good thing she gave me that dressing-down, because now I'll think twice before I pick out the wrong underwear for her.

This is how I know things have gotten out of control.  (As if the aforementioned isn't enough.) Sunday evening, after Ethan and I returned home from a rehearsal, I snuck into Madeleine's bedroom to lay out an outfit for the morning.  (Something I had asked her at least three times to do herself throughout the day, which she promptly ignored.)  Ethan walked by Madeleine's open bedroom as I was frantically rummaging through her underwear drawer in the dark.

ETHAN: Everything okay??
ME: (frazzled) I can't find her Monday underwear because I can't see anything in the dark!

Last night I tried something new.  I laid out Madeleine's outfit but no underwear, because although I'm pretty solid on her Monday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday underwear, I can't for the life of me remember the Tuesday ones.  I figured she can just get the underwear herself.  Like the 7-year-old that she is.

Nope.

This morning Madeleine came out of her room holding the underwear she had just slept in.

MADELEINE: Mommy, wrong underwear!
ME: Honey, those are your Monday underwear.  You must have taken them off with your pajamas and then picked them up off the floor.

I mean, come on Madeleine!  Even *I* know they're your Monday underwear and that you JUST WORE THEM.  She just picked the dirty underwear up off the floor.  Without even realizing it.  Seriously, Madeleine, get it together with this underwear thing.

And even more seriously, it's definitely time she do this on her own.  I refuse to be an underwear slave any longer.  FREEDOM!