Babies, It’s Cold Outside: A Boy Mom’s Winter Manifesto

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Babies, It’s Cold Outside: A Boy Mom’s Winter ManifestoEvery October, early in the month, I take an inventory of my kids’ winter clothes. Do they have enough hoodies to layer on chilly days? Do their snow boots fit? Can I squeeze one more year of life into their ski bibs or is it time to buy more? What about their heavy coats? After I’ve combed through the back of the closet, feeling the layers of puffy down and various fabrics, I stand back, look at my work, and know deep down I’m a delusional fool because I, like so many other boy moms out there, AM RAISING BOYS WHO ARE APPARENTLY NEVER GOING TO DRESS RIGHT. 

You see, around the same time my seasonal inventory begins, something snaps in my children’s psyche. Whatever part of the brain that tells a person’s body it’s cold goes on lunch break until about March and my kids refuse to dress in seasonally appropriate anything.

Mornings usually go something like this:

Me: “Hey guys, I need you to go ahead and get your coats on, I’m going to go start the car.”
Kid: “Whyyyyyyy?”
Me: “Why am I starting the car? Because there’s frost on the windows.”
Kid: “No, I mean whyyyyyy do I have to wear a coat?”
Me: “Because…it’s cold outside?”

Afternoon pickups are met with me asking, “Guys?! Where are your coats?! Why don’t you have them on?! It’s literally snowing. Look — Safety Patrol has on earmuffs and gloves. Please go back inside and get your coats. Because you’re going to need them for tomorrow. I don’t care that it ‘feels fine out here’ to you…”

Y’all, am I missing something? Is there something about a coat and long pants that I’m just not understanding? Can someone clue me in as to why at the very mention of a jacket my kids scream like I’ve turned into Jigsaw, strapping their limbs into some kind of macabre torture device and asking them if they want to play a game?

And the judgy stares…that’s really the best part. Yes, I know Karen in Target. It’s 46F degrees and my son should be wearing more than a tee shirt, but I’m not prepared to die on that parenting hill today so thank you for the condescending glare. (I’m also not married and I let them watch electronics whenever they want and sometimes my oldest eats Little Debbie Christmas tree cakes for breakfast. Move along.)

I know I’m not alone.

I’ve seen countless articles and Facebook statuses of my fellow boy moms who are begging their sons to not wear shorts, you know, since it’s 40F degrees and all. Is this just a fact of life raising boys? Am I to just expect them to eat Thanksgiving dinner in shorts (actual thing that happened) and then go out and play in flip-flops…IN NOVEMBER?

A few weeks ago we had some issues with our heater. When we got home, for the day the house was chilly but manageable 57F degrees. My boys quickly put on nearly every piece of pajama clothing they owned, piled under blankets on the couch, and begged me to start a fire. The way they were acting, I half expected a woolly mammoth to come lumbering through the kitchen. But, I thought I had maybe turned a corner. For once, they were reacting to cold. It was a miracle.

The next morning, with the heat working again and the house warmed back to 70F degrees, I woke my sons to find various layers of PJs peeled off in their sleep. “Come on guys, I need you to get up and get some pants and a long sleeve shirt on, then get your coats by the door before you come out to the car.” “UGHHHH MOM, WHYYYY DO I NEED MY COAT?!”

“Because baby. It’s cold outside.”

#solidarity boy moms. Maybe they’ll dress right one day.

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Ashley
Mama to Maddox, Walker and Finn plus three unruly dogs: Nick Carraway, Ladybird, and Charlotte. Owner of Nest, a custom painting and furniture restoration business run out of my SoKno home. I've written for Knox Moms since 2014, and have also written for The Dollywood Company, Her View From Home, and Today.com. I'm a recovering type-a personality, overcaffinated, sleep with too many pillows, am a better person near water, and love a good British period drama or anything about gruesome true crime. I'm going to die trying to pet something I shouldn't or lifting furniture I have no business lifting, and am a firm believer in convenience meals. Probably a top contender for the title of World's Okayest Mom.

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