A quirky Mom

My husband called me the dreaded "a" word the other night - "anal". He didn't say it as an indictment, just a passing comment. As much as I hate to admit it, he's probably right. There are certain things that I'm rather, "quirky" about (that sounds so much nicer than anal). For example, I know which color top came with which sippy cup, and it just seems to me that they are a pair. The cup that came with the pink lid (that would be the blue cup with the bumble bees on it) should always have the pink lid on it. That cup does not belong with a blue lid, a purple lid, or a yellow lid, it belongs with a pink lid. I'm sure you can imagine the knot that forms in my stomach when dear hubby gets the ice water ready for the sweet kiddos to take to bed and puts the pink top on the purple cup that came with a purple top. Perhaps in deference to "quirky" moms like me who notice (and are bothered by) such things, the sippy cup manufacturers seem to be putting matching lids on cups lately. Don't even get me started on Tupperware, yes it does matter which top goes on which bowl.

The incident that led to my husbands lovely name for me involved a onesie. Shortly after Phillip was born a friend of ours gave us a set of Winnie-the-Pooh onesies with the days of the week on them. For someone who is, ahem, quirky, things like that send a shiver up the spine. I knew that I would never be able to just grab a onesie and put on him, I would have to make sure it was the correct day. It wouldn't do for him to wear a Friday shirt on say, Tuesday. Nevermind that Phillip was only three months old at the time and could have cared less, I would have been bothered by it all day.

Fast forward a few years to our sweet Bella. It was hot one night last week so I decided to put Bella in a onesie to sleep. It was late and I was tired, so I grabbed a onesie off the shelf of the changing table and put it on her. Of course, it was a "Sunday" shirt, and it was only "Tuesday" night. With great restraint I managed to fight the demons inside of me that were insisting I change the onesie. After all I reasoned, the other kids were in bed, it was just me, hubby, and Bella, who would care? Within ten minutes of putting the onesie on Bella my sweet husband looked at it and said to me with a little grin, "as anal as you are about things I can't believe you don't have the right day on her". That did it. I scoured the changing table shelf, the dryer, the basket of clothes to be put away, the basket of clothes yet to be folded, and finally, finally, I found Tuesday. As I removed Sunday from our little girl and replaced it with Tuesday I was struck by another dilemma. In a few hours it would be Wednesday, so maybe I should be putting Wednesday on her so when she woke up in the morning it would be right? Briefly I considered searching for Wednesday, but instead smacked the little quirky voices in my head back into the shadows, and vowed to do the same to Robbie as well if he dared to suggest such a thing.