A Holiday Sample of My Own Particular Mommy-Madness
I don’t know what I was thinking. There I was, late afternoon smack in the middle of Spring Break, on line at the Flagship 5th Avenue Build-a-Bear with a flaccid, waiting-to-be-stuffed plush toy and mandatory outfit. A camp full of kids from out of town had descended on this Manhattan tourist trap unannounced, leaving the store understaffed. But I couldn’t just walk away…
You see, the Easter Bunny made me do it. My son had been pining for this particular bear since he had eyed a coupon that had crossed my threshold uninvited a few months back. Usually I dispose of these intruders before they can cause a problem. But my vigilance had waned, and so here I was.
Mind you, I don’t get my son every trinket or toy he asks for. But there’s something about these plush toys, the kind that never move at tag sales, which capture his imagination. I guess it’s the whole ‘make your own and give it a name’ thing. That and the not-so-little ‘house’ boxes they come with. We have a veritable Build-a-Bear Village in our narrow floor through apartment at this point. The toys each get their own home, which leaves our family where? On the outside of all those damn boxes. Homeless in a sense. I’m a street person in my own apartment, with out enough space to call my own.
Now, I realize I could ameliorate this situation, so I don’t want to sound like such a victim. But part of me wants this. I can’t stop telling Harper that there’s an Easter Bunny, a Tooth Fairy and a Santa Clause, nor can I seem to stop supplying the attendant material wished-fors. Why? Because they echo the most unique of pleasures, one which we are allotted only briefly in our lifetimes, provided we are fortunate enough to experience it at all: that of dreams, wishes, expectations and promises being fulfilled magically, of having hope satisfied, unencumbered by guilt or lack of entitlement.
One day Harper will grow up, and then I’ll have to. In the meantime, at least these damn plush squatters are conducive to some imaginative play. And they work without electricity! Magical.
© 2010 Rahti Gorfien
Rahti Gorfien, of Creative Calling Coaching, is a Life Coach and Park Slope mom specializing in mothers with universal and yet unique challenges to succeed both personally as mothers and professionally in their chosen vocations. She is also a regular contributor to Momasphere. Contact her to schedule a consultation and find out whether her coaching can help you create the life you want.