Who's your Mommy?

Who is responsible for this boy anyway? Me? Oh yeah. Well I tried, but the boy will not wear anything on his bottom vicinity unless they are purposed for sleeping, nor will he keep shoes/ boots/ sandals/ crocs (or "craps" as Kate innocently calls them) on his little toe-banged-up feet, no matter how many goat heads, slivers, bloody big toes, or stinging neetle he encounters. Oh yeah, and he is insistent on wearing somebody else's 2-day-ago-food-crusted shirt. By being "insistent" I mean a crying, pulling, even-if-I-do-get-it-on-him-it's-off-the-second-my-hand-releases-it, pertinacious child.

But isn't that what I wanted from this lifestyle? Not the stubborn child (However, I do hold a place in my heart for one so stubborn, for I am the same way, as Weston often reminds me. You just have to love someone who is so determined! I actually love the fact that he wants to be so independent by picking out his own clothes-the fact, mind you, not the clothes.), but the perogative (thanks Bobby Brown!) for us to go without shoes or to feel that you didn't have to dress super nice everyday because you're just going to be stepping in cow poop anyway-nice outlook huh? (I'm being a bit over-dramatic, in case you can't tell.) I mean, look how happy he is with his chocolate face:

Huh...(exhale). So nevermind my complaining. I'll just take a chill pill for now, make peace with the daytime use of crooked jammie bottoms and unmatching tops, buy more band-aids the next time I'm at the store, and save my baby-boy-dressing battle for sunday morning.