To Smock, or... "Hell no!" says The Coach

There has been trouble a brewing in the Mack house.  It's been brewing since Jacoby came rumbling into town.  I knew it was going to happen, and I've been dreading "The Fight".  

We never ever fight.  Honestly.  We disagree every once in awhile, we discuss it, we compromise and we move on.  That's the way we do business.  There is no fighting.  But this time, there was a fight of epic proportions.  We went back and forth until we both started getting all squinty-eyed and mad at each other and then we dropped it with no resolution.  He kept looking at me, eyes wide and jaw dropped, like "I can't believe she's going to do it anyway".  And I held my ground.  And The Coach was PISSED.  When Jack was born, I threw in the towel and just gave up the fight.  But this time, I went ahead and purchased the controversial items to give myself an extra power boost in case I got weak and started to lose the battle.

What was the epic fight about, anyway?

It was about gingham, seersucker and peter pan collared shirts.   Monograms and smocking.   Jon-Jon's, longall's, shortall's, rompers and bubbles.  And it was about white knee socks with white leather shoes.  

It was about the red gingham shortall with the anchor applique and the white dress shirt with the peter pan collar to wear for Joe's retirement ceremony.

It was about the white smocked romper Jacoby will be wearing for his baby blessing.

And it will be about the light blue sailor suit bubble that hasn't come in the mail yet...  and it will be about the white knee socks and white leather shoes he will wear to church when he starts walking.

This is the way a baby boy dresses in the South.  Well, not all of them do.  But mine will.

  If you live outside this region these sorts of outfits for baby boys absolutely blows your mind.  I get it.    The Coach was raised in the Bronx.  Yes, the Bronx.  In the projects no less.  I understand that if you dress your son in white knee socks with a smocked bunny outfit on Easter in the Bronx that he will get beat up and have to move to a leper colony.  

But we don't live in the Bronx, right?  We live in the South.  Where smocked bunny outfits and appliqued anchors and monogramed bubbles are a way of childhood and a rite of passage.  He has the rest of his life to dress up in a suit and tie like every other boy and man out there.  But he only has a year or so to dress like a baby.  And dress like a baby he will.  

Our fight started about a week ago when the anchor outfit came in the mail.  We dropped it after that, and I wasn't about to bring it up again because I was on the losing end of the fight.  My bullet proof plan was to dress Jacoby however the heck I wanted to for church because The Coach has to be at church very early in the mornings for meetings.  I am the one dressing the kids and we come to church separately.  You can see my genius plan unfolding, right?  

But out of nowhere last night, my sweet and wonderful Bronx-raised husband asked me to put the anchor outfit on Jacoby so he could see how it looked.  

Joe:  "Put that stupid outfit on him please.  Let me see how it looks on him before you have him out there looking like a girl."

I then held my breath and instead had Jacoby try on the "worst" outfit I had purchased.  It was a light blue bubble with a peter pan collar and smocked farm animals across the front.  It was really pushing the envelope.  But I knew if I could possibly get away with this one I'd be home free with the rest.

The Coach rubbed his forehead and said: 

"Dear GOD woman, what in the hell are you doing to our son?"

But he didn't say it like he said it before... he said it like... 

"I love you with all my heart and I'm going to let you do this even though it repulses me and goes against every fiber of my manhood."

And I felt the love.  And secretly inside, my heart did a tiny little cartwheel of joy.  And I gave The Coach a giant and heartfelt hug.  

And no more words were spoken.

And my sweet little boy looked absolutely adorable at church today in his farm animal bubble.