The Daily Battle

"The American father cannot be trusted to put together combinations of clothes. He is a man who was taught that the height of fashion was to wear two shoes that matched." - Bill Cosby


This quote is mainly for the mothers out there to read, especially my wife.  As a father, I recognize my limitations.  Dressing children, especially three daughters, is not my strong suit.  If the other fathers out there are like me, then this applies to them, too.  Yet, my parental duties require me to tackle this obstacle daily.  Here is a synopsis of our daily battle.  As you read you will understand why I say battle... 

So, every morning I take Cooper to school.  Cooper is in Kindergarten and her mother seems to believe she needs to dress at the height of fashion on a daily basis.  She must go to school dressed to the nines with her "hair did."  She also appears to be under the misconceived notion that I am fully capable of doing that.  Now, with me being a man that keeps his hair short because I can barely keep it looking presentable; how can I be trusted to fix up Cooper's golden Shirley Temple locks?  My fix most days is to stick her head under the faucet and pull it back into a pony tail.  That I can do.  Well, so long as Cooper lets me.

Every morning is the same thing.  It actually reminds me of the story Bill Cosby tells in "Himself," that he called "The same thing happens every night."  He tells of how each night his wife would tell their children the same thing each evening.  He goes on to say that if the children would just listen to their mother there would be no beatings.  Of course, they do not do what they are told, and the beatings begin.  Now, children know there is a routine and it should be fairly simple to follow it.  My children are no different.

I get Cooper clothes from her dresser.  Now, Ashley has everything organized so she can find stuff.  It is supposed to be helpful to me too, but I am a man who is afraid to dive into any female's wardrobe.  My tired stupor makes it more difficult to find anything that matches.  I remove a shirt and a pair of pants that in my blurred and no-fashion having vision looks okay.  Later in the day however, I learn how bad of a job I did.  There have been afternoons however that, when Ashley sees Cooper, she looked at me with absolute confusion as if to say, "Are you blind?"  I do not dare respond if I know what is good for me.  Granted, some of my fashion choices have been shall I say, ill-conceived.  But hey, I am dad, right?

Each morning after I get Cooper dressed in the easiest clothing option I can find, I tell her to go to the bathroom so I can fix her hair.  Here is where everything gets fun, sort of.  Each morning she stomps from the living room to the bathroom with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.  Keep in mind that Monday through Friday...this is no surprise.  It will happen without fail.  But for some reason she seems surprised by my request.

I say, "Coop I got to fix your hair."  She looks at me with tired eyeballs underneath the huge bed head nest on top of her head.  Ever seen the old commercials from the 70's?  Remember the hair styles were HUGE?  Imagine Cooper...our fresh faced 5 year old...with a tangled, curled...actually, think Bride of Frankenstein, only blond and without the wavy white streak on both sides and no makeup.  Huge hair.  But I digress...

So, she throws her arms in the air, mumbles something about her mother, crosses her arms and stomps to the bathroom.  I toss a towel over her shoulders while she is with all likelihood plotting my demise.  While dunking her head in the stream of water, she cries.  Every morning she cries.  Not because I am drowning her, but because I am apparently insensitive to the fact I have my fingers tied up in the tangles.  I then realize why she is crying and begin to feel bad.  And so our day begins with trauma to Cooper and I both.  I pull her up from the faucet and attempt to pull the brush through her now soaked, and still tangled hair.  I manage to get her hair brushed and pull it back into a pony tail, which is all I know how to do.   

A side note is needed.  There are those probably wondering, "where is Riley during all of this?"  Here is the funny part.  Riley is dressed in a similar manner as Cooper, but with no hair to fix (thank you Lord).  Riley is sitting on the floor right outside the bathroom...are you ready for this...laughing.  I look at her with her one tooth blazing at me and think she is laughing at me.  She realizes what Ashley does not want to realize.  I am ill-equipped for the task at hand.

So, as a father that sends his child to school most mornings looking like, well, what Ashley describes as a "ragamuffin," I take solace in one thing.  It is not my fault!  No father can do it!  If you think you can, be at my house at 6:30 AM tomorrow.  Since I assume no one is going to show up, I will continue to do the best I can to no longer traumatize my daughter, and work towards improving my fashion eye. 
Lord, help us all.