T's 70-year-old, diabetic, partially deaf mợ 2|aunty #2 has been industriously sewing me a new bà bầu wardrobe pulling all nighters this week out of concern for my seeming lack of pregnancy-appropriate attire. i guess she missed the elastic waistband demonstrations or didn't think it was adequate.
it's one thing when it's malnourished brown orphans deprived of childhood and limbs industriously producing one's wardrobe piecemeal for pennies because there is the global economy, multinational corporations, layers of manufacturing subcontracting, clever marketing ploys, shiny store displays and discount store prices to buffer and inure me from the human consequences of my first world decadence.
it's a whole nother thing when it's your kin. and its heartfelt concern. and its muumuus. and they are made from love.
maybe like the golden garments of love that Ariel learned to spin from the depths of her heart for the wraiths in the fantasy novel DarkAngel, the muumuus will wear less burdensome than garb made from coercion, loathing and pain, and will wear lightly filled with the grace of compassion and the gift of sisterhood.
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hmmm. i knew something was up when they didn't even ask me my measurements or what colors i prefer. i only got to choose sleeve length.
so there are two muumuus and a top. the muumuus are short-sleeved, empire-waisted, with gathering below the bust, a tie-back (so not strictly muumuus per se), crew neck, ankle-length. plenny o'room to grow. roughly the same material as vinamese curtains--so polyester jersey. prolly very very flammable. the pattern is... very densely populated, small daisy-like flowers on a white background. one dress is red daisies, one is green (this one has a narrow neckhole that i can barely fit over my head). by unfortunate coincidence i happen to not like daisy patterns. the top is... beige and black bold chevron stripes, polyester, loose-baggy empire waist, long sleeve slightly above my wrist bone in the way of most vinamese shirts made for shorter people. i also happen not to wear stripes very much. but clearly this is not about me or my preferences really. we're two for two here. or three for three depending on how you count.
so i had strategically worn a comfortable cotton jersey dress this weekend (the cute tangerine, black and cornflower blue color blocked spaghetti strap one i got from liz). MIL's comment was "aren't you cold? we should make you some long sleeve shirts." i realized i cannot win unless i wear the fobby pregnancy clothes. yes i called them fobby. and that it boils down to control and generational gap. so i readily responded "i have a lot of maternity clothes hand-me-downs from Lily, my sister, friends. i don't need any more clothes. don't waste your time & labor." (doesnt sound as harsh in vinamese.)
the part of me that appreciates the gesture and affection on mợ 2's part will dutifully wear the muumuu in her presence (i have a month's grace period while she is visiting her cousin in Pinole) and who knows, when i'm ready to pop, maybe i'll appreciate the muumuu-ness of it all. the part of me that likes to be me, defy other people's attempts to control me and is vain enough to aspire to cuteness wants to wear my hot maternity designer jeans and the regular stylish solid tops that i have been wearing. after all, if i give in about maternity muumuus now, what happens when it comes time for all those tricky parenting decisions?
Ok, I am quiescent, like the Mexican fruit bars, about you asserting your own style. Who wants to be a fobby mommy when you can be fab mommy?
We know its love and you'll wear them at least once to quiesce mo 2. That's what counts.
T
okay okay so last night i couldn't find my house clothes/pajamas so i put on the freshly laundered muumuu. and... it was comfortable. i looked like Laura Ingalls Wilder minus the bonnet & apron, but it was comfortable.
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