In 2020, My Last Mother’s Day In My 30s

I’ve worn the dress before. In high school, in 1998, when long dresses were in, it fit me perfectly. Which doesn’t make sense, because I’m at least four inches taller than my mom ever was, but some things in life just don’t make sense. Probably, she wore heels, and I wore Birkenstocks (in 1998, and now, because everything old is new again). I’ll keep it for Salem, because if the dress has survived the last 40+ years, it’s clearly made from some space-age 1970s synthetic fabric and should last forever.

My mom kept a lot of my clothes from when I was very young. I’ll never know if what she kept was specifically because she had pictures of me wearing it, or because she loved it, or because she just kept lots of stuff. Lots. I know my mom would adore seeing Salem in these outfits, so I’ve done my best to make sure I take photos of her wearing them. Some are obvious choices to have kept–sailor dresses, fancy Christmas clothes, something I wore on my birthday. Some are seemingly random–a classic 80s graphic tshirt, a nightgown. Is there a story behind these items? Did she tell me and I forgot, or did I never ask? Likely, she was planning on telling me as Salem grew old enough to wear the clothes.

The bathing suit photo hung for a long time in our house. Who takes their two-year-old to Olan Mills for an indoor bathing suit shoot? Was this a thing? I’ll never know. But my mom loved this photo. She even kept the towel. So naturally, I took Salem to JC Penney for a re-creation. Salem is only a couple of months older than I was (both about 2 1/2), but is much taller with much more hair!

I wore this wool sailor dress for my 3rd birthday as dutifully noted on the back of the 3×5 prints. I actually forgot to put this on Salem in November on her birthday, so her photos are from February and again you can see she is so much taller than I was! That dress was to my knees and is barely covering her bum. Also–ascot, sash, whatever.

This nightgown is one of Salem’s current favorites. I’m guessing my mom kept it because she really did catch me with my hand stuck in the cookie jar–and took a picture of me crying on the counter. Check out that early microwave! We were fancy in Lakewood, Ohio.

There are plenty of reasons why this Mother’s Day isn’t what I thought it would be. (Could be? Should be?)

We’re in the midst of a global pandemic. Today we are at home, playing inside and outside, and eating home-cooked food, like we have every day for the past eight weeks.

Eric is actually home. We have a running joke that he’s always gone hiking for Mother’s Day, and I’m always with the kids in Ohio for Father’s Day. But this year, we’re all together.

My mom isn’t here. I spent my first Mother’s Day with her here in Colorado, and my second I went to Ohio with Tyler and told her I was pregnant with Salem. She didn’t get to see me as a mother of two on Mother’s Day.

Jess is coming over later, with her dad and Sean and Jack. Because her mom isn’t here to celebrate with us, either. She got two Mother’s Days with three generations, same as me.

2020 is my last year in my 30s. Forty is out there. I am so proud of Tyler and Salem and how they made me a mom, and me and Eric parents, and us a family. But I still miss my mom.