On Tuesday, in an effort to distract myself from the swirling eddy of depressing thoughts still lingering in my weary brain after my appointment on Monday, I went out shopping. My Beloved was in need of some short sleeved shirts and since I am capable of at least giving him that (I'll pause while you roll your eyes at my nauseating self deprecation), I figured I'd head out to the mall.
I went to my favourite discount department store (I engage in retail therapy, but I'm notoriously thrifty about it) and headed down to the mens section. On the way there I passed a rack of Mother's Day t-shirts. They were cheap and cheesy - and I decided I wanted one really badly.
My first reaction was to avert my eyes and walk quickly by, but then I stopped, turned my cart around and went back.
It was suddenly very important for me to get one of the tacky little #1 Mom tank tops. I figured I could wear it around the house or under something when I'm out gardening. No one (save My Beloved who sees me in all kinds of horrendous "at home" outfits) would ever have to actually see it.
I do realize how pathetic and creepily needy it is to buy yourself a #1 Mom shirt for Mother's Day, by the way - particularly when you don't have any living children - but having that tank top was important and soul soothing at that moment. And besides, as a childless mother I'm not included in Mother's Day celebrations as a mother myself. I'm invisible.
And I get that - I do. It makes sense and all, but still, it doesn't make it any less depressing. So a hidden tank top would have been nice.
But alas, they didn't have one in my size. So I left the rack of cheesy tops meant for smaller mothers with, who are we kidding, living children and continued on.
In the end I bought myself a pair of Snoopy slipper socks instead. On sale, of course. It's May - and unseasonably hot at the moment - so I won't be using them anytime soon, but some chilly Fall day I'll be very pleased with my Mother's Day consolation prize.
6 comments:
:( I am sorry.
You are not invisible here, but this is my hope for you: may this be the last Mothers' Day when you are not recognized by the establishment.
BTW, my comfort item, for a while now, has been a flavored latte from Star.ucks. It's expensive, but it hits the spot.
I'm not a mother in mourning, so I don't at all presume to say I understand how you feel or that I feel the same way. However, I am an adult who longs for a child (and as I am not yet married, or in a relationship, it seems impossible). All that being said...
I went Mother's Day card shopping yesterday, and there were all these "To my daughter" cards that had young women carrying little ones around. And I had to get out of there - because my mom doesn't get to buy me one. I'm weird, I think.
My consolation prize, albeit in a different fashion than yours (I wish you could have gotten your shirt, because no doubt if Thomas could shop you would have gotten one) is a bracelet that one of the girls I nanny for made me at school. She informed me that it is NOT for mother's day, but she did tell her teachers that I am "like a mother." So that was nice.
Let me know your size and I'll try to find one around here...
I found one for you online. Email me (beskimo@yahoo.com) with your size and address... I'll ship it directly to you. You deserve it!
Well, miraclebaby beat me to it...but if you want two tank tops/shirts - send me your info. (bigpandme@yahoo.com)
You totally deserve that shirt. You are an awesome Mom.
There was nothing creepy or needy about what you described. In fact, I think it sounded very brave and self-aware. I understand that feeling of needing *something*, anything to help you tangibly claim the fact that you are the mother to a child that no one can see.
Even though I was technically part of the recognized clan of mothers since I had two living children, it still felt very important to me that I also be recognized as the mother of my two who are gone. It still does.
Happy Mother's Day to a wonderful mother!
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