For maybe three years now, I’ve been wanting to get a shirt that indicates, somehow, that I am a supporter of my children’s activities (as though showing up, looking world-weary, holding jackets that have been shed and tossed onto the ground, and having snacks at the ready isn’t showing my support enough). There’s a whiny 10-year-old’s voice (my own) in my head. “All the other moms have shirts!” The calm, with-it 40-year-old’s voice (also my own) in my head responds, “if all the other moms jumped off a bridge, would you?” Answer: some days, it seems like it wouldn’t be a bad idea.
But I digress. I whittled my wardrobe down into almost nothing a year and a half ago (my uniform is going swimmingly, I’ve now worn the same five dresses to work every day since last August), and I am very wary of adding any clothes to my collection. At the same time, I’m super cheap and only want things that are…super cheap.
The shirts that are being sold tend to be custom-made (“my favorite dancer, Sonya, calls me mom!” or whatever…$$$), or sold as part of fund-raisers ($$$), or sold in the local store ($$$). In a world where I seem to have no trouble dropping a hundred bucks on matching Christmas pajamas, it doesn’t make sense that $22 is too much for a shirt I’ll wear a thousand times, but, well, I’m an enigma.
At any rate, at the annual open house, they were selling very ugly tie-dyed shirts with the school name on them. Last year, the ones they were selling were bright pink. If I’m adding one shirt per three years to my wardrobe, it can’t be bright pink or tie-dyed. I spotted one lone navy blue shirt with a plain logo on it, just the thing I was hoping for. “These are left over from a fundraiser,” the woman behind the table said. “Five dollars.”
Unfortunately, the size said XL. “Extra large in youth sizes,” she said. “It’s about a medium in adult sizes.”
Sold! And that’s how I finally, finally came to have a tee-shirt indicating that I’m not just some creepy lady on the sidelines with snacks, I actually belong to a kid on the field. Sure, it’s a kid’s shirt, and I’m middle aged, so maybe that in and of itself makes me creepy, but whatever. Don’t hate, appreciate.
My favorite soccer and basketball players call me mom!