I did not dress her!

My daughter and I have this little war going on. We're going into our third year now and the axis of evil is losing strength (that's me). She's a girl, in every sense of the word! Down to the way she combs her hair and what she reads. Most importantly is what she wears, it's a never ending battle! And I should just be grateful that it's not over miniskirts and tank-tops, but when my daughter gets up in the morning and dresses herself... I get a little itchy to argue the outfit. I think of her on the playground or in the classroom, more importantly I think of her teacher's on the playground and in the classroom. I want to put a big sign on her forehead that reads, "I DID NOT DRESS HER!"
No mother in her right mind would send a kid to school in striped, multi colored, tights, a purple woolen kilt (straight from Scotland), a pink Hello Kitty shirt and a black velvet shrug. I have to remind myself of this, I have to convince myself that other mother's will see this as her own work. Usually I fail miserably and that's when the war begins.

"Why don't you wear a white shirt with that skirt, dear, it would look cute. Look I've got this one I just bought you with the lace on the collar."

"I don't want to wear that!" she whines, "I think this looks pretty."

"But, honey, that doesn't match! See there is no pink in that skirt, but there is purple and white. Maybe you should just wait till the weather warms a little so you don't have to wear tights."

"Mom!" she cries, throwing herself on the ground. "I want to wear this!"

"Please, baby."

"NO!"

It's not usually so calm, typically it consists of flying clothes, shouting voices, and tears. It probably wakes the neighbors.

So I've given up, at least for now, and taken to photographing (for evidence) the myriad of wild concoctions she comes up with. It seems much easier in the mornings to say, "Honey, go get dressed," and not worry any further. Then it is to stress about every little article she puts on. My eyes may hurt when I help her out of the truck, my cheeks might burn as I kiss her goodbye, my head may ache as I watch her run to the playground, but at least she doesn't have the sound of my raised voice following her throughout the day.

Still, I wonder if I should start a shirt making business, with logo's embroidered on the back: "Her mom didn't dress her!"