Why I dress the kids

It started simply enough as these things do.

Seven was a stay-at-home dad until Nicky was two, while I worked full-time. Luckily for me, I worked close to home and could come home for lunch and to nurse when he needed it -- Nicky, not Seven. One afternoon, when Nicky was two months old or so, I came home to find my husband in sweats and my son still in pajamas -- mismatched pajamas, at that. He had on the light-blue top from one set with the red and white striped pants of another. Didn't Seven have time to get the two of them dressed? Really, what did he DO all day long?

"Is that what he's wearing," I asked casually.

"What? He's comfortable," Seven said, irritated. You have to know my husband to know that he is a very patient man and not easily irritated.

I couldn't argue with comfortable, so what I said was, "Well, couldn't you put the matching pants on to that outfit?"

While what I thought was, "This is our firstborn son. He has a CLOSET FULL of adorable clothes that he's outgrowing by the second. What is so hard about putting a cute outfit on him and taking lots of pictures of him in all his cuteness? Why is he always in pajamas or the same two 'comfortable' onsies?"

Meanwhile, my husband said nothing and thought, "Who is this woman glaring at me? Where is my wife? We're not going anywhere. Who cares what he's wearing?"

The years passed. When Seven dressed the kids, it was for comfort. When I dressed the kids, I matched their tops to their bottoms. Sometimes, if Seven dressed them in something weird, I changed them. We didn't say anything about the kids clothes.

One Saturday morning, Seven very sweetly got up with the kids, got them dressed, and went down to breakfast, while I dozed. When I came down, Laney was in this.

The guys reading are probably thinking, "So? She's wearing pink." You girls understand me, though, right? Is that plaid with stripes?

So it just became one of those unwritten house rules. I get the kids dressed every morning, even weekends and holidays when Seven is home. Seven doesn't bother, because he says, "You're just going to change them anyway."

I think this is another example of how men and women are just wired differently. I know which top goes to which bottom of all the kids' clothes. My husband simply doesn't care. Gasp! DOESN'T CARE!

Of course, it could be a genetic thing. This was my mother-in-law's pick for an outfit.

While he looks so cute I could eat him up, what on Earth does he have on?

My kids are roughly the same age in those last two pictures. Is it just me or do they look like they could be twins?