Mother’s Day was very nice – I was awoken by three beautiful children who brought me a donut and glass of milk in bed and showered me with many beautiful hand-made gifts and one Japanese-made gift, followed by church, brunch and time with my mom. The girls and I then headed off to the mall to look for bathing suits.
Ahem. For them. I spent Saturday at the mall with my little shopper (Mare) looking for a suit for me. And while such melodious comments as “that one makes you look too skinny!” (I think she had her adjectives confused) coupled with the ever judicial “that one isn’t your style” were helpful, I was still depressed enough to put off making a choice.
So. I decided to focus on spending money on my kids instead of me, my typical response to poor body image. The thing is, shopping for bathing suits for young girls is fun because my god, their bodies are just so incredibly perfect. What suit we buy is all about color and design and making sure it will stay on when they get a little crazy and, I dunno, swim. We found a cute one for Mare right away at Justice, where most of the suits are skimpy and tied on – not a good combination unless your six year old plans to spend her summer lying by the pool instead of getting in the pool.
There was nothing acceptable (tankini -not bikini – with straps that are sewed in place) in Bridget’s size at Justice, Limited Too, Macy’s or Nordstroms. Or, if we did find something acceptable it was, per Bird, ugly. Finally, we headed up to Dick’s where, at last, we found some cute, sturdy suits that were made for swimming.
I dropped the girls off and swung by my mom’s so she could go back to the mall with me and give me an unbiased opinion on, shudder, swimsuits for me. The fact of the matter is, the pool opens in two weeks and my kids will want to go. She agreed that the one I was leaning towards was the best option. My only hesitation had been the matronly factor. But in the end, well, who am I kidding?
After dropping a crap-load of money on a suit that makes me look like I’m 50 70, I came home to John feeding dinner to two of the three kids and the third kid in tears because nothing sounded good and dad had lost his patience with her. Bird continued to refuse to agree to eat what we had available so life went on and we decided to go for a bike ride. At the last minute, I threw a granola bar and a package of graham crackers in my bike basket. Thus, when the inevitable meltdown occurred half way through what was otherwise a wonderful family ride to the park, I was prepared, and, after Bird had a couple squares of graham cracker, we were able to all ride home together, happy.
As we were riding home I saw a friend in her Chevy Suburban at a stop sign. I waved, which caused her to look past the helmet and sunglasses and recognize me.
“Is that Sara?”
“Oh my God! I was just commenting on that poor mother who has to spend part of her Mother’s Day on a bike!”
I laughed and told her, truthfully, that I wouldn’t have it any other way.