Mothers Who Shop

Ben made a comment the other day when we were going to shop for Kyan’s school backpack. Kyan asked why we were going to Pottery Barn Kids and Ben said, “Because, Kyan, that’s where Mommies who want to compete with one another go.” I got really mad, but the truth is I got mad because the truth hurts.

There is this part of me that totally competes with other moms. It’s like a little voice in my head saying, “are you going to let them ‘look’ like a better mother than you?”  or “if you don’t get him the cute and expensive version then everyone will think (know) that you don’t have a lot of money.” 

This is the sad reality and yet I’m a very open person. I don’t lie about the fact that we don’t own our house or have a lot of money to buy things, I don’t even hide it.  

So what is it with this competition that we mothers insist on engaging in? I see the ridiculousness of it in my mind’s eye and yet I continue to make choices that are based on my insecurities and my need to “prove” something to other people. I’m not sure how I got here.

Yesterday Kyan was making up a song while playing the guitar and I was sitting out in the living room just listening. In one part of the song he sang (approximate version) “I love my mother because I love her a lot and she loves me…she loves me so much because she gives me something special because she loves me so much…” Listening to that I had mixed emotions, obviously Kyan knows he is loved, but he equates receiving a gift or something special with love. That isn’t right. Seriously. This kid has no idea what it is like to want something REALLY badly and not receive it. Everything he has ever really wanted he has eventually gotten. It’s hard, as a parent, and hard for his grandparents, too, not to buy him the things he wants because he just seems so genuinely happy when he receives them and it feels so good to make him so happy. The issue is that he is beginning to equate this with love. Love should be so much more than the giving and receiving of material objects. 

I remember as a kid wanting a Cabbage Patch doll so badly that it’s all I could think of. My parents kept deferring to Santa Clause and Christmas as the chance to get it, but they didn’t promise anything. They didn’t have a lot of money and I knew that so I thought maybe if I told Santa over and over again he would bring my Cabbage Patch Kid. On Christmas morning I opened all of my presents and there was no Cabbage Patch. I tried really hard to be okay, but I think I might have started to cry when my parents told me that was it. Then they sprung the surprise that there was one more hidden present…of course it was my Cabbage Patch. The reality was I knew, for the most part, at that point that my parents were Santa and that they had a hard time affording Christmas, so that’s why I tried to be okay when it wasn’t there at first, because I knew it was a hard thing for them to afford. I understood the sacrifice they were making to some degree and I knew that I couldn’t have everything I wanted. I carried that doll with me everywhere for a long time. It was even saved for years, it may still be around. 

she looked JUST like this!

I thought that Kyan’s obsession with Buzz Lightyear a couple of Christmases ago was akin to my obsession with that Cabbage Patch kid, so I knew I had to get it. The difference is that I got him Buzz, and Woody, and Rex the dinosaur…amid a myriad of other things that totally overwhelmed him to the point that he actually stopped opening presents and said he was done. He never questioned for one second that he would get Buzz and wasn’t even surprised to have the entourage of characters appear, too.
I overdid it that year and I tried not to do that this past year, but it’s hard. I tell myself that, on one hand, the boys having fun toys makes my life easier because they are entertained. True, in part, but absolutely not the entire story. Yesterday Ronan and Mason entertained themselves for more than a half an hour by taking all of the pans out of the cupboard and carrying them to various places in the house and then setting them on the floor and stepping in and out of them. Kyan spends more time being entertained by sticks than he ever does with his $30 light saber. So, who am I buying all of this stuff for? Is it for me? So that when we have play dates everyone can see how much we have and how lucky my boys are? Maybe in some part, I don’t think that’s the whole story either, though. 

I want my boys to appreciate what they have and to feel what it is like to want something they can’t have. How can I achieve this when I along with their 4 loving grandparents like to get them everything they show interest in? I can’t tell everyone to stop buying presents. I can’t turn Christmas morning into a “give your toys to needy children” event and let them go without. There are little things that people do, like have kids donate to a toy drive etc, but I don’t think that’s going to get the real message across, it just makes us parents who have abundance feel like we’re at least making an effort to teach our children about those who don’t. I have no idea how to achieve it, but I truly want Kyan to want something and to be unsure he will get it. 

I suppose I can start by not competing with other mothers to have the cuter backpack or lunch sack or shoes for the kids, etc. I can stop allowing myself to judge my worth and status as a mother by how my children and their possessions appear to others. It’s a start. I don’t have any idea how successful I will be in my endeavor because the reality is that the need to compete comes from deep seeded insecurities about how others see and judge me. I know that my worth as a mother has nothing to do with those things, but I have to convince myself that others know that, too. Of course those people that I care about most and are true friends don’t judge me that way, but unfortunately I care what everyone thinks, not just those friends. I suppose I can begin with a different kind of Christmas, one where I don’t go into debt in order to overwhelm my children with the abundance that I can provide for them. It’s a start, and maybe next time we’ll look for a new backpack at Goodwill instead!