Alternate Titles:
So Long and Thanks For All the Socks
I’ve Been Sock-Shamed
Socklessness is Not the Greatest Problem Facing America’s Poor (potentially too presumptuous, I shouldn’t speak for others)
Sockless by Choice
A couple of weeks ago, one of my children came home with a brand new package of socks, fresh from the store. Perplexed, I asked why. “I don’t know, my teacher gave them to me.” Did the teacher give everyone socks? “No, just me.” Upon further questioning, it was revealed that said child has not been wearing socks to school (which frankly, other than finding it preferable to wear socks, is not something I have the emotional energy to mandate). When asked about it, instead of explaining that it is her preference not to wear socks, she thought it would be easier to justify her choice by claiming not to have any. Sigh.
I was embarrassed, but again, I lack the emotional energy to be overly mortified. I briefly thought about emailing the teacher and being like, “Hey, just so you know we do have socks, she just doesn’t like wearing them,” but I felt like that would exacerbate the embarrassment. Undoubtedly the teacher would respond kindly, perhaps share why she feels socks are important (which I’m not saying they aren’t), and emphasize to please let her and the school know if we have unmet needs so they can help… which we do, but they are a lot more expensive than socks. Things like another vehicle and therapy. You know, stuff that doesn’t fit in a backpack.
The next day I was getting Oliver ready for preschool. Oliver also is not a fan of socks. Again, low-emotional-energy mom here… I don’t have it in me to fight about socks on a daily basis. I would like it if they wore socks. The shoes smell when the kids don’t wear socks. But whatever. Nevertheless, on this particular day, with the mild-to-moderate embarrassment of being assumed to be too poor to afford socks fresh on my feelings, I decided to try to put socks on him. I was quickly reminded that of classic blunders I try to avoid, in addition to never getting involved in a land war in Asia, never get involved in a power struggle with a three-year-old is pretty high on my list. I casually brought out the socks and tried to slip them on his feet, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Foolish, foolish mommy. Of course he noticed. “I don’t want socks!” I tried to play it cool. “Look, Mommy has socks! They will keep your feet cozy warm and feel nice in your shoes!” *Reassuring smile* Yeah, no. He started to flip out so I tried to backtrack. “That’s fine, you don’t have to wear socks.” Too late. The next 15 minutes were an intense back and forth of him vacillating between wanting socks more than anything he ever wanted in his life to vehemently despising them, and me, for ever suggesting them. I went full Switzerland, utterly neutral to whatever he decided about the socks, but it was too late to extricate myself from the drama. I ended up having to put him in the car with neither socks nor shoes on his feet. In the end he decided at the last minute to put both the socks and the shoes on, but only after I started to back out of my parking space at the preschool to go home because he was clearly too escalated to be in public. He proceeded to have the worst drop off, followed by the worst day ever. When I picked him up, his teachers told me it was a rough one. I decided to explain that this all started because my older daughter came home with new socks, but that I would not likely be choosing this battle with him again. They commiserated and laughed with me about the ridiculousness of the whole thing, and Mr. T even went so far as to reassure me that he didn’t like socks either at that age.
Fast forward to a week later. A new teacher started at the preschool. She is now the head teacher for his room. She had been hired at the end of summer, but her start was delayed by the background check process. A few days in, she excitedly handed me a paper outlining the allegedly optional and even more allegedly “fun” sartorial schemes and themes for upcoming “homecoming” week. I tried to manage her expectations up front. “I’m not sure that he has any green clothes… hmmm, we definitely don’t have anything sports themed,” etc. She helpfully assured me that this was a week away and there was plenty of time to figure it out. I tried to play up the overwhelmed-single-working-mom-of-12 angle and that I’m not even always the one getting him ready for school because of my work schedule, etc. Anything but outright saying, “I do not value this assignment (event? project?) enough to acquire new clothes and/or make sure these things are laundered for the right day.” Undeterred, she recounted how when her kids were little, sometimes she would lay everything out a week in advance to make it smooth and easy when it was time. My brain said, “Are you out of your mind?” but my mouth said, “Oh, that’s very forward thinking.”
She cheerfully went back to the flier she had given me, “So anyway, it’s just a fun way for the kids to feel some school and community spirit, and they always have fun with crazy sock day!” My face betrayed me. I let out a chuckle. She looked me in the eye with great sincerity and said, “We can help if you need socks.” Sigh. I tried to explain the dramatic sock-centered events of the previous week in a light, humorous way. She looked skeptical and assured me again that if we ever did feel like we needed socks she was there to help.
For the record, we have socks. We have a lot of socks. I don’t even know where they all came from. For all I know, well-meaning strangers and community members have been donating socks to my family on the down low for years. I even buy socks on occasion. I stopped trying to match socks after laundering years ago. I have maintained a sock bin, basket, or drawer for years. Anyone who cares to wear matching socks has the option of digging through the collection for matches, but several of us (myself included) do not value the matching of socks enough to make the effort. Some of my younger kids might not even realize that it is the norm in the rest of society to wear matching socks (if they choose to wear them at all). Whoops. But the main takeaway here is that we have socks. Lots of socks. More than enough socks for everyone. No really, we have them, I swear.
Eden's daycare has a "special" clothing required day at least once a month. Each time Rebecca has to go buy her something, as most of these items aren't something they just happen to have in their closet. Personally, I don't like this requirement as day care is expensive enough as it is. I guess the kid doesn't have to show up in appropriate attire, and hopefully no one makes a big deal of it if they don't. Good luck with the green shirt...... you probably can't even easily find one this time of year. Maybe in March.
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