Susan Fancy
I recently bought new bathroom towels, selected mainly because I love the colours. Two cerulean blue hand towels with matching bath, and one butter yellow bath towel.
While folding and bagging the five towels, the young male cashier asked, “Are these for your kids’ washroom?”
“No,” I said, unsure why towels would prompt this question.
Then he said, “When I was young, these were the colours in my washroom.”
“Oh,’ I laughed, “No, I just love these colours.”
Then I added, “Guess I’m just a kid at heart.”
He nodded and slightly smiled. I smiled widely, pleased with the quick and comfortable way I’d handled yet another person’s expectation that everyone has children.
As I walked back to my car, this short conversation made me think about other times when I’d been mistaken for a parent while in a shop.
I recalled an afternoon years ago when I took my young nephew for ice cream. At the time, he was around 7 years-old. I can’t recall the conversation with the woman who took my order and payment, but afterward, my nephew quietly said, “She thinks you’re my mom.”
He had a smile on his face and I felt touched he seemed delighted by this woman’s assumption. I was delighted too.
About twelve years later, I took this same nephew and his brother out for coffee. While we all stood at the counter waiting for our order, the cafe owner looked at my two nephews who towered over me, each around 6’5” tall. She then looked at me, smiled and said, “You must be a proud mom.”
After a brief pause, I smiled and said, “Actually I’m a proud aunt.”
Later, when we walking to my car,we laughed about the woman’s mistake. One of my nephews said, “It was ok. You didn’t have to correct her.”
While I can’t recall how I responded to him, I remember thinking, “But, I am a proud aunt. I am not a mom. I don’t want to be mistaken for being a mom anymore. I want people to know and acknowledge who I am. People need to understand that not everyone is or gets to be a parent.”
During the years in between my visit to the ice cream store with one nephew and the later visit to the coffee shop with two, I tried unsuccessfully to become a mom. It was a devastating time. I came to dread questions or comments from others who assumed I was a mom. I felt like an injured deer already hit by a massive car, and the incessant questions and comments were like more headlights coming at me.
It took years for me to be able to speak up about who I am. A lot of healing, time and courage goes into asserting who we are, and who we have become.
I am a kid at heart. I am a proud aunt. I am so much more than most people know.
