My husband has probably thirty T-shirts. I say probably because I haven’t actually counted them and neither has he. When I mentioned this interesting fact to him recently, he was astonished. “Really?!” he said. The reason he hasn’t noticed is that he just doesn’t care. He has been collecting T-shirts without meaning to for a number of years now (we’ve been married for four and a half years and it’s been going on that whole time). Every so often, he gets a shirt from work – or two or three – and others have been given to him over time for birthdays and Christmas. He has his 3M paint shirt from his first autobody job and his yada yada whatever performance shirts from the big truck autobody job and his “I may not be perfect, but I’m Canadian and that’s close enough” shirt that was, I believe, a gift from me a few years ago. The “collection” has gotten so bad that almost an entire drawer in our dresser is devoted to his shirts alone, mine getting smashed into corners so that his will fit.
The dilemma is that I know I should get rid of some of them, but I just can’t do it. I’m afraid that I’ll get rid of one that he really likes, such as the shirt he got five years ago in his last year at camp as a cabin leader. Also, he needs to have work shirts and dressy shirts (dressing up for Mike is putting on a black t-shirt that has no slogans on it) but I really would like to get rid of some of his work shirts but I’m afraid that he’ll start wearing his dress shirts to work. What’s a girl to do?! I guess the best answer is to have him go through the drawer and pick the ones he doesn’t want anymore (and then we could count them while we’re at it). This is easier said than done right now because Erik is rooming with us somewhat indefinitely and anything more than sleeping, folding laundry or quietly talking in the room seems to disrupt his sleep. I shouldn’t tiptoe around him, but I really need my sleep which means that he needs to stay sleeping after I put him down for the night.
Anyway, enough about the shirts and on to Mondays. This is a silly story, but it’s in my head and I’m just going to start feeling sorry for myself if I don’t get it out.
My friend has an aunt. My other friend moved here because of the aunt’s kids and the aunt has become a sort of aunt/mother to this friend since she’s been here. Both friends have kids – the niece has four, the other has two. Every Monday, they go to the aunt’s house (I feel silly doing it this way, but it’s better not to use names in these sorts of situations). They’ve been doing this for awhile as far as I know and the whole time that I’ve known about it, I’ve never been able to figure it out. I know that other women go there and I once saw a picture from a secret Monday Mom’s Meeting and it looks like there are a good deal of them. My two friends talk about it often, but they never say what it is they are doing there. I always assume that they’re just visiting, but they’ve never been specific enough for me to tell. I don’t want to ask because I don’t want them to think I’m trying to score an invitation from the aunt. I know that the aunt likes children and it sounds like she thinks of these Mondays as a pretty special time. I get the feeling that she is the one that decides who gets to come – it is her house after all – and that you don’t just get invited because somebody who goes there wants you to come. I imagine the aunt overlooking the girls in church and thinking on who deserves a place on Mondays the most. Well…
Tonight we had a baby shower for friend number two at friend number one’s house. A number of girls were there (women, mothers…I still call them girls: “I don’t wanna grow up…” sorry, tangent) as were the aunt and her two daughters. Another friend of ours, I’ll just call her friend three since that seems to work, was there as well. She has one child. Towards the end of the night, I heard friend one say to friend three, “Aunt ______ has invited you to her house on Mondays! Do you want me to pick you up?” Later, friend three said that every day was the same for her and the aunt said, “Well, Mondays will become something special for you now.” I cannot tell you how jealous I felt at hearing that. How am I supposed to feel when this secret club seems to be meeting weekly and now other friends of mine are being invited while I am not? All three friends, the aunt and two others who attend on Mondays (not people I know) talked about this around the rest of us like we weren’t there. Bah!! It’s not so much that I’m dying to be invited, but that I spend all days of the week (as in Monday through Friday) but Thursdays (Bible Study, thank goodness for that) at home, often feeling flustered and sorry for myself and lonely and wishing for company. I get out now and again and visit people, but most weeks are spent at home with the kiddos. It was easy enough to ignore it and not feel bad about it when it was just friend one and friend two, because they had family connections to the aunt and were the only ones from our Bible study who went each week (to my knowledge). But now, with friend three invited, I’m afraid that the green eyed monster will be rearing its head constantly. I hate feeling left out of things and already deal with that when it comes to my mother-in-law spending time with her daughters and not with me. And whatever, I can handle it, but I worry about how I’m probably bottling things up over time and what will happen when they all come bursting out someday.
Anyway, I’m rambling. My brainstorm after said conversation about/invitation to the secret Monday Mom’s Meeting is to just ask friend three about it after she goes on Monday. Because at least then I would know what they’re doing. Because for heaven’s sake, if they’re quilting or scrapbooking or something, I won’t feel like I’m missing out as I’m really not into those activities. Of course, this could backfire in a number of ways. If friend three decides to tell friend one or two or the aunt about my questioning, I may garner a pity-invitation, which I definitely do not want. The other way is more likely, as I can be blunt and swear friend three to secrecy and avoid the first scenario. However, if she reports back that it was so much fun and the kids had fun and she met new people and had lots and lots of F-U-N, I will probably just feel worse and really feel like I’m missing out. My strategy to combat this is twofold. Number one: think about it in terms of what is required to go somewhere every week. Pack the kids up, pack diapers and changes of clothes in case of spills, etc. pack kids into car, drive somewhere that is not home and expect them to behave and spend so much time chasing them and telling them no that I don’t enjoy myself at all. Number two: stay quiet, don’t think about it and maybe someday get invited out myself.
At the moment, I’m thinking it would be better if it was a secret Monday Mom’s Scrapbooking Meeting, because I really wouldn’t feel bad about missing that.
Maybe I should just start my own secret Monday club. We could swap t-shirts and make a mess of each other’s homes.