Right around the time my baby turned 3, pajama time became a nightmare. He became very obstinate about changing from his clothes into his pj's. There were some nights where I had to hold him down, straddling my legs around his while sitting him down on my lap, as I attempted to undress and redress with pajamas. By the time we had made the switch I was breathless and my heart was racing from the intense work out. You get the picture.
Now, picture this scenario with a grown adult. One of the struggles we have with my mom is that she doesn't change her clothes very often. Everyday, she puts on the same clothes as the day before. On occasion (maybe once a week),she will trade one outfit for another and throw her worn clothes into the laundry pile. You will notice in the pictures I post that most outfits look the same.
A few weeks ago, while I was over at mom's, she smelled very...fragrant. Foundation stained the neck of her blouse and when I leaned in closer to mom, I could smell that her clothes desperately needed to be wash. The tricky part was getting her to change. She doesn't comprehend anything I try to say to her, so I knew explaining that wasn't worth the effort. And there was no way I could change her by myself. Besides that, it feels like a violation to have to undress my grown up mom against her will. Still, something needed to be done.
Lucky for me, dad ended up coming home late that morning. We discussed the showering/clothes changing situation and I noted that mom's clothes really stunk. I'm sure it's not easy for my dad to have to take charge of mom, but he does really well at it. While I'm still nervous sometimes to go in and do things against her will, he just goes in and does it whether she likes it or not. I think she kind of looks at him like her father figure in some ways; she listens to him a little better. However...she was not understanding the concept of changing her clothes.
"Deana, we need to wash your clothes, they stink," dad said, a countless number of times. When mom was unresponsive to dad's prodding, dad sat beside her and started to take her shirt off.
"No, stop it, don't do that," mom said with a little smirk on her face. She glanced at me from the corner of her eyes with a mischevious look...like maybe she thought dad was trying to get frisky with her. Ha ha.
"No no, you can't do that, she can't see me," she remarked.
Despite mom's protests, dad successfully got mom's shirt off and then started to work on her jeans. Mom became even more stubborn.
"No, no!" she said, struggling but also still smirking.
"Deana, stand up," dad said, trying to get mom to stand to make it easier to slip off her pants. Of course, mom wouldn't budge. I figured I was going to have to step in and help dad.
"Here mom, stand up," I said. Together we pulled her off of the bed and held her in a standing position.
"No no, you shouldn't be doing that, no," mom continued.
"We need to change your clothes, mom," I said.
I held her up while dad scooted her jeans down past her hips. Mom quickly dropped herself down on the bed and I began to take off her shoes.
"No no, why are you doing that, stop it. Stop it!" Mom said, breaking out into a giggle while she swat at my hand. She laid down on the bed, eyeing us both suspiciously and giggling with protest. My dad and I started chuckling; as adamant as mom was that we leave her alone, her giggling and smirking made our chore a little more bearable.
We were able to successfully pull off mom's clothing and dad immediately took a load of her laundry into the washer, handing her a clean pair of clothes to put on. Needless to say, it is much easier to catch those dirty clothes at night when she takes them off then it is to struggle with her to change once she's already dressed! She still isn't happy when her clothes disappear into the washer (she lays them out right next to her bed so she can see them in the morning), but we do what we gotta do!
My son is 3 1/2 now and lucky for me, his phase didn't last too long. I'm happy to report that he's pretty easygoing these days about changing into his jammies. Unfortunately for my mom, the struggle has just begun.