[title subtitle=”WORDS: Stoney Stamper
IMAGES: courtesy Stoney and April Stamper”][/title]
Can you believe that summer’s almost over? It seems like yesterday that we dropped Abby and Emma off for their last day of school. You could feel the excitement oozing from their pores as they enthusiastically jumped from the car for their final day. Then, when we picked them up from school that afternoon, their exuberance was nearly uncontainable. Three months of freedom! Sleeping in late, no homework, no teachers, no fundraisers, no cheerleading practice, no choir recitals!
However, summertime means very different things to parents, doesn’t it? For the children, it just means NO SCHOOL. But for the parents, it means that the kids are going to be home all the time. And for us, that’s especially true, because we don’t have any family nearby, so they are home ALL THE TIME.
So, as our summer quickly comes to a close, again, my wife and I have very different views than our children. They see their three months of freedom coming to an end, and we see nine months of freedom just beyond the horizon, waiting for us. Yes! Hallelujah!
April and I married a few years ago, and that’s when I became a dad to her two daughters. Since that time, there have been certain things that baffle me, daily. School, or no school. I have had to become accustomed to the daily comings and goings of the prepubescent female. And without a doubt, one of the most difficult, and sometimes infuriating things I have ever had to do in my life, is the simple act of getting girls ready for school, and out the damn door. To say it has been quite an educational experience is an understatement of epic proportions. It’s like calling a slice of crispy delicious bacon just a piece of meat. It’s much, much more than that. There have been many, many things I have learned. And even more things that have completely left me at a loss.
One of those things that continually leaves me scratching my head is getting our ten-year-old daughter Emma dressed, in a respectable and presentable manner, on my own. She is without a doubt the most flamboyant and eccentric individual I’ve ever known. No amount of sparkle is enough. She wants loud, flashy colors, sparkly shoes, rhinestone belts, bright red Chapstick®, shiny, gaudy jewelry and as much pomp and circumstance as humanly possible. Nothing is too ostentatious. Nothing is too over the top. Admittedly, her spunky attitude and extravagant taste in clothing and accessories can be completely adorable, but if you’re a new dad, just trying to get by, it can be unbelievably exasperating.
Last year, as my wife became more and more pregnant by the day with our youngest daughter, Gracee, and sleeping less and less, I tried to give her all the time to rest I could. So I took on the responsibility of getting the girls up and dressed and would deliver them to school before I’d leave for work every day. Waking them up? No problem. Getting them some breakfast? Easy. Getting Emma dressed in clothes that wouldn’t embarrass her mother to the point of not wanting to go out in public, not quite so simple. If left to her own devices, Emma could easily go to school looking like Cyndi Lauper and Boy George had a secret lovechild, and then hired George Clinton to be her stylist. It’s gonna be funky and cool. Trust me.
On one such sunny day in March, tragedy struck. Now, I had definitely let her get to school in some questionable outfits before. The occasional raised eyebrow from mom when we got home was a telltale sign of disapproval. Generally, in the mornings, I was more concerned with getting them out the door and to the school before the bell rang. She may have flown under the radar a few times in moon boots and a tutu. But on this day, I’ll admit, it’s possible that I wasn’t paying attention. I was talking on the phone as she came out a minute or so after Abby and I, and climbed into the backseat. Off to school we go. “Bye girls! Have a great day!” I said. And then I headed to work.
Well, that morning, April began to have a few contractions, and I was afraid to get too far from home, so I worked the afternoon at the house, then at 3:00, we went to get the girls from school. First, we picked up Abby from junior high, and then to the elementary school to get the blonde. We pulled up, and out walks Emma. As she walked up to the truck, I was equal parts frightened of her mother, and dumbstruck. She was wearing a yellow shirt. So far, so good, right? Red hair bow. OK, probably not the best choice, but we’d take it. There were sparkly pink and silver Toms on her feet. Ok, it was getting worse. However, on bottom, she was wearing a pair of old, faded yellow Dollar Store pajama pants with green writing on them, that were MUCH too short, coming only just below her knees, but with black tights protruding beneath. The poor girl looked like a tiny hobo.
As her teacher walked her up to the car, April wheeled around on me like a mama bear.”WHAT did you send her to school in?” I stumbled and stuttered for an answer, but I simply didn’t have one. “April, I SWEAR I’ve never seen those pants in my life. That’s NOT what she was wearing when I dropped her off this morning!” As Emma got in the truck, April turned to the backseat and said “Emma, what in the world are you wearing?” Emma rolled her eyes, and then said, “Well Mom, I was bent over my desk signing my homework, and Mrs. Elliott came running up to me and said ‘Emma, you can’t wear those pants, because I can see your panties through them.’ And then she sent me to the nurse’s station and they told me I had to put these stupid pajama pants on because I was only wearing panty hose! And these pants are the ones that they give to the kids that pee their pants at school. But I’m pretty sure they’re clean.”
April spun back around. “You sent her to school in PANTYHOSE?” My mouth opened, I tried to speak, but no words came out. Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.
In my defense, the sun wasn’t all the way up yet, and I couldn’t see her all that well. And where the heck was my backup? Abby was supposed to watch me and make sure I don’t do something stupid! She TOTALLY let me down.
Moral of the story, guys. Pantyhose, by themselves, are extremely inappropriate attire for school. Or, really, for any place. At all. Anywhere. Well, now I know. Next time she tries that crap with me, I’ll be all over it. “No way Jose,” I’ll say. “It ain’t happenin’.
Next time. Like a boss.
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Stoney Stamper is the author of the popular parenting blog, The Daddy Diaries. He and his wife April have three daughters: Abby, Emma and Gracee. Originally from northeast Oklahoma, the Stampers now live in Tyler, Texas. For your daily dose of The Daddy Diaries, visit Stoney on Facebook or on his website, thedaddydiaries.net.
