Things I Regret

On Saturday I had a little meltdown in Costco. Right in front of the rack of little girls' spring dresses they'd just put out. Fluffy, sweet, innocent pastel dresses.

They put me in mind of my own days raising a little daughter. I remember looking at similar dresses, and then casting my eye towards my two younger little boys. "I can't hand this down yet," I thought. "Maybe I shouldn't get it." Even when I was pregnant with Haley, and knew she was a girl, I hesitated at buying lots of pink. "Buy neutrals," people encouraged me. "Things you can pass down to whatever other babies you have."

Oh how I regret listening to those recommendations and to my own financial "wisdom."

I wish I would have jumped at the opportunity I had to drown my life in pink cuteness. I wish I would have bought all the pink, purple, flowered, or laced baby outfits I loved but put back on the rack in the name of practicality. I wish I would have bought more dresses.

The natural way to end that last sentence is with a "for her": I wish I would have bought more dresses for her. But really, I would have been buying her dresses for me, too. I would have been feeding my own inner little girl instead of starving her with thoughts of fiscal responsibility and Rubbermaid box counts.

I wish I could have learned, before I had my first child, that no matter how many babies you have after that one, you never have that one back. I regret looking toward the future so hard, regret taking solace from my "she is growing up" sorrow by thinking "but one day I can have another baby." I wish, instead, I had celebrated that individual experience. I wish I would have made more pink blankets and bought more tiny purple shoes and used more spring green floral headbands.

Whatever joys came in the future (and they did...I am not discounting any of those future joys), they were still their own, individual experiences. They weren't that one, that first one and, it turns out, that only one. Maybe if I had savored more, and wrung more girlish happiness out of Haley's childhood, I wouldn't stand in front of a rack of spring dresses and have to work at hiding my weeping.

I regret letting the assumption of "I will do this again" leverage the present moment. I regret not knowing, until it was too late, that you never have the chance to do it again. You only do it differently. So I regret: the baby girl clothes I didn't buy. The frilly shoes. Not taking her to Disneyland when she still loved Ariel with that innocent devotion of preschoolers. I regret the times I made her wear jeans even though she hated them. I regret not letting her wear a pretty dress every single day just because she wanted to. I regret not painting her bedroom yellow and finding ethereal fairy costumes for her to play in. I regret all the things I did out of practicality. I regret not being frivolous.

And I know. I know all the arguments. I know my gratitude for her should outweigh the other sorrows. I know I am tremendously lucky to have each and every one of my four children. I know that the way things turned out is simply the result of choices, choices I made and cannot change.

But I also know this: what is here now is what is real. The bitter truth is that you learn what you need to know only after it is too late. Much as I wish, I cannot change those days. All I can do is learn to live this day better. And mixed in, always, to my current joy is that undercurrent of regret, loss, and bafflement. This is what I have. This is what is real. So instead of trying to fight my tears at Costco in front of the new spring dresses, I let them fall. Feeling that regret for lost days is part of savoring this current day, as contradictory as it seems. And I will continue trying to not make that same mistake. I continue trying to live in, love, and appreciate the now instead of counting on tomorrow to be different or better.

Comments

[Kary in Colorado]

Brilliant. Thank you. Perhaps because my babies were so hard fought (years and years of infertility), I was decidedly not practical when they finally did show up and I do not have your same regrets. But there are other things not done, not savored, moments not appreciated. I am trying hard this year as my two oldest (born 8 years apart!) will be getting married within a month of each other, to enjoy this crazy, busy time and be present every moment. Thank you for your reminder. (And now you know why grandmas go overboard buying stuff!)

[Karla]

You said it so perfectly. I on the other hand in eyes of my dear husband go too far on those things of today. Painted rooms with castles and flowers, which made it incredibly hard to paint over when the time came to move to another house. I often have to have that fight with why we were late to church while I made a special hair bow to match the dress perfectly, I didn't have that same hue of pink already. Although I think Robert is on the totally other side of regrets, not having a boy. He wishes to do all those boy things which it seems will never come. Regrets are really hard, and it seems like they are things that don't seem important at the time but later you see how important they are. Thanks for sharing your thoughts. It was nice to remember to live in the moment of now. I try sometimes too hard to be somewhere in the future too fast.

[Jody]

I never had the chance to have a family of my own (I'm too old now) so I spoiled my nieces and nephews - all 9 of them. I'm the one who painted castles or jungles on their walls. The one who bought the gifts their parents wouldn't or made them the latest fashion to wear. But sadly that is coming to an end. They don't want castles on their walls or toys (not that I can afford, anyway). I am now waiting - not so patiently - for them to have children so I can start over. Life goes by to fast.

[kim g]

regret....such a hard thing....especially as a mom.....i have daily regrets i have to get over....you write things so well....wish i could do the same...and stop using the dot....dot....dot....love this post
thank you

[heidikins]

I have been thinking about this post all morning, and I want you to know it has struck a serious chord with me. I think so many people in my life are so enthused with practicality, and it has always made me a little sad. I love that I choose color over neutrals, and chocolate over fiber bars, and shoes over, well, anything. I don't want to look back at a life of practicality because it seems like a mostly dreary choice.

Here's to buying something pink, sparkly, and/or ruffly. ;)

xox

[Maureen]

I bought my 6 yo baby a heart dress at old navy, for $15, and I thought twice about it, because she had a red shirt with a heart on it, an didn't need the dress, after reading this I will never second guess a $15 heart dress again, thank you.

[Melanie Bell]

I was told by everyone and my inner miser to buy things for my daughter, also my first, that I could pass down. But I fell in love with dresses, and the color pink, which I had previously hated. And I have gradually put aside frugality when it comes to girly stuff. Especially now that I'm realizing that girl #2 is not likely to come. I'm starting to feel that hurt and longing, because I was always sure there'd be another. So to combat that feeling, my current motto is "I've only got one girl, so why not?" I buy a new dress almost every time Costco gets a new batch. We're starting ice skating lessons next month, and hopefully horseback riding this summer. I think I'm overcompensating, but only because I know I will eventually be the one in tears next to the dress rack. And yes, I'll let the tears flow.

Sorry for the long comment, but I really feel you on this one.

[Pamela K.]

I never had a girl to dress up in pink and decorate her room in fairies and castles. But believe me, I already warned my hubby that if we get a granddaughter someday, watch out! Thank you so much for reminding us to live for today. God bless!

[Pat Passamonte]

Oh Dear Amy...
In some of your posts lately, including this one, you seem to be having that particular sorrow that comes when you know that you won't be having any more babies. One of the earlier ones felt like you were pre-planning for empty nest time. It's a hard transition, but there is something wonderful coming one day--Grandbabies! And with any luck, at least one grand-daughter. Near where I live, the Burlingtons has racks of dresses that I refer to as Gramma Racks. They are full of the most frivalous, beautiful girly little dresses that a gramma could ever want. And there's "Lil Dollys" on line, where they will make the most ridiculously frilly dresses ever! What you are experiencing is SO what happens a lot. When you are a parent, you rush through their childhoods, you are filled with practical ideas, responsibilities, and you just are not aware how fast it will all go by. But when you get the next generation... Your job is to love them and spoil them. You don't have to take care of them 24/7, so you can focus on making every day that you spend with them special. And by then you do know how fleeting their childhood will be. No, your grandbabies won't replace the "firsts", but the job is so different, you can just relish it and enjoy it... So don't be sad about what you didn't do, plan ahead for what you will do when the next generation "first" comes along... Have a great weekend!