fuzzy recollections

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Scarf Collection

A very, very, very long time ago, Engie posted about her beautiful scarf collection. That was when I vowed to someday write about my own scarf collection. The time has finally come. 

Apparently I own 17 scarves. Twenty, if you count the three I couldn’t find. This number is much higher than I anticipated; I would have guessed 10, if you’d asked me. 

The thing is, I WANT to be a person who wears scarves. I think they are so lovely and fun! And also practical. And if I love anything, it’s something that is practical but also fun. A scarf has so many uses. Need to spruce up an outfit? Add a scarf! Love to wear black, but feel like an occasional pop of color? Scarf time! Feeling chilly around the neck? Scarf, baby! Trying to disguise an actual baby from your work colleagues or TV viewers? GIANT SCARF! Need something dressy with which to cover your shoulders at an event? Say it with me: scarf!  

Top Row, Right to Left:

  • Grey infinity scarf: I got this from Stitch Fix, which means that a stylist chose it and sent it to me, I tried it on, and then agreed to keep it and paid for it. I may have worn this scarf one time. I feel like I’m wearing it wrong. Engie wrote a helpful Scarf Tutorial, and I still feel like I have no idea what to do with this scarf.
  • Grey scarf: I don’t recall buying this scarf, or wearing it, nor do I have any desire to wear it. It’s very soft, though. It’s made of a formal feeling material. Perhaps I bought it to wear for dressy summer occasions?
  • Burgundy scarf: This is a thickish material that seems more appropriate for winter, so I’ve only ever worn it in the winter. It’s not, like, a winter scarf, though. I do OWN a winter scarf, but I have no idea where it is. The key point of this bullet is that I have worn this scarf, and multiple times. 
  • Grey scarf: This scarf is from Paris! My mother took me on a trip to France one summer during college. I noticed that everyone was wearing a scarf, even though it was summertime and not cold. Scarf with T-shirt, scarf with sundress. I wanted a scarf too so I bought one as a souvenir. Scarves were not yet popular in the US (this was in the early 2000s), and I am not a trendsetter, so the scarf sat in my closet, unused, for several years until they became A Thing and I felt like I could wear one without feeling ridiculous. I have worn this scarf a good number of times.

Middle Row, Right to Left:

  • Burgundy, white, and – you guessed it – grey scarf: This is another Stitch Fix scarf. I haven’t worn it a single time. I guess if you really want my money, dangle a cute scarf in my face.
  • Blue scarf: I don’t recall the origin story of this scarf, but I really like the color. It reminds me of my husband’s grandmother, and it is possible it once belonged to her. 
  • Pink scarf: I want to say that this scarf is from Paris, too! I think I bought it while on my honeymoon with my husband. I could be making this up. My scarf-source memory is rather fuzzier than I would have thought. I have definitely worn this scarf though. The color is so bright and cheerful. I love it. This and the other Parisian scarf are both “summer weight” scarves, and I would never think of wearing them in the cooler months.

Bottom Row, Right to Left: 

  • Navy scarf with red and white flowers: I think this scarf belonged to my husband’s grandmother. For some reason, I wound up with several of her scarves. This one is very pretty. 
  • Black scarf 1: This scarf is one I bought to wear with dresses for fancy occasions. It’s very slippery. 
  • Black scarf 2: This scarf is wider around the shoulders, almost like it’s trying to be a shrug. An armless shrug. I bought this to wear to my dear friend’s funeral in 2019. 
  • Ivory scarf with birds: This definitely belonged to my husband’s grandmother. I remember her wearing it. It makes me feel closer to her. And I get compliments on it every time.
  • Turquoise and green scarf with flowers: This MUST have belonged to my husband’s grandmother. Or maybe it belonged to MY grandmother? I have never worn it and probably wouldn’t ever wear it – the material is stiff and scratchy and it’s a little more formal than I can see myself wearing. 
  • White scarf with turquoise and blue flowers: This scarf is very soft and has only ever belonged to me. I’ve worn it a few times. 

Top Row, Right to Left:

  • Black and white scarf with flowers: I went to a sock-hop themed dance back in 2007 and wore this scarf tied around my ponytail. I don’t think I’ve worn it since. 
  • Black and white polka dot scarf: This scarf is much thinner and shorter than most of my scarves. I am almost certain it belonged to my husband’s grandmother. My husband is pretty sure we bought it for her as a gift. 

Bottom Row, Right to Left:

  • Flower and bird scarves previously described
  • Grey scarf: I do not know anything about this scarf. Where did it come from? Why is it so similar to other scarves I already own?
  • Blue scarf with paisley (?) pattern: This is another odd-sized scarf; it’s also silk. My husband is certain we bought it for his grandmother. 

Unpictured Scarves:

  • Black scarf, green scarf, identical but for color: I bought these two enormous scarves in the early winter of 2012/2013 in an attempt to disguise my pregnancy from my colleagues. I had JUST STARTED my job there, and now I was pregnant, and I wasn’t ready to tell anyone. So I started wearing loose flowy cardigans and enormous scarves to detract from my growing belly. Since it was my first winter working there, I hoped that my colleagues would just assume this was my normal winter wear. 
  • Grey winter scarf: I do wear this scarf, in the winter. I have a matching hat. The pair are cute but a little bulky I feel a little claustrophobic when I’m wearing the scarf, like it’s a boa constrictor trying to suffocate me to death.

Have I worn a scarf in any of the time between Engie’s post and this one? No I have not. Have I gotten rid of a single scarf? No. Do I plan on wearing a scarf anytime soon? Not really, no. And yet, with such scarf abundance, I COULD. At any moment, on any given day, I could decide, I am a person who wears scarves and I could sling one ’round my neck and sashay off into the world with a fresh perspective on life. 

  • Grey Scarf Count: 3 (plus 1 not pictured)
  • Family Heirloom Scarf Count: 5
  • Scarves I Would Definitely Wear Count: 11
  • Scarves I Would Definitely Never Wear Count: 3
  • Scarves I Have Never Worn (in These Photos, Not in the Known Universe): 5
  • Scarves I Want to Get Rid of But Probably Won’t Count: 5
  • Scarves That Don’t Appear in This Post Because I Have Lost or Failed to Unpack Them: 3
  • Usage of the Word “Scarf” (but Not Scarves) Count: 64

Do you own any scarves? Are you a scarf wearer? (Which are clearly two separate questions!) Does the word scarf look absurd to you now? Do you think of Peter Sarsgaardd and this SNL skit every time you read the word “scarves”?

I am kinda sorta attempting to complete NaBloPoMo, with the full expectation that life will make it impossible any day now. If you want to follow along, or join the fun, check out San’s blog here. 

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Babysitting Anxieties, Then and Now

I had no idea that one of my biggest side hustles as a mom would be trying to find a babysitter. Maybe this isn’t true for everyone – especially if you have nearby relatives who are happy to take a kiddo for a few hours – but man it has been true for me: I spend a ton of energy trying to find and keep babysitters.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to feel comfortable leaving Carla with a sitter AT ALL. Our first regular sitter lived down the street. She’d just graduated college, she had a bunch of siblings and a history of taking care of kids in the neighborhood. Plus, she was a former lifeguard so I knew she was a) CPR certified and b) schooled in handling emergencies.

At one point, she was always busy when I asked her to watch Carla, so I stopped asking. (Who knows – maybe she really wasbusy. But if she was just uneasy telling me she no longer wanted to babysit, I wanted to take the hint.) That was a sad loss.

I tried one of those websites where you can find a sitter… but I have to be honest. I freaked me out. Too many options, and too much potential risk, I guess? I know many people have used those sites with great success. But it’s not my thing.

A neighbor mentioned that her high school son would be interested in sitting for Carla. But… Carla is scared of him for some reason. Maybe not scared, but totally apprehensive at the idea of having him watch her. So that’s off the table. (And, I’m sure, so is asking his older sister; talk about insulting!)

Finally, we found a sitter who worked at Carla’s old daycare. Again, I was delighted! She and Carla knew and liked each other. She’d been vetted by a place whose very business was taking care of kids. Plus, I just liked her. But she moved out of state. Before she left, she recommended one of her former colleagues from the daycare, who was also a great find. But then she had a baby and I never heard from her again.

Just a year ago, I felt flush with an abundance of sitters. Carla’s swim instructor was happy to babysit. And one day when she was unavailable, she recommended a friend who is a speech pathologist and works with high-needs kids. We met her and she was excellent. So that’s TWO sitters to call on if we need it. But they are both really expensive, which is a factor.

So when Carla literally picked up a sitter at camp this summer, I was over the moon. (I showed up in the car line on the last day of camp and Carla dragged this young woman over, and the young woman said, “Hi! Can I give you my number so I can babysit Carla sometimes?” Um. YES.) She was Carla’s swim coach at camp. She was a high school student, so she commands a lower fee than the two adult professionals we’d been using. And she was wonderful. Full of energy and obviously deemed capable of wrangling a bunch of five year olds – in the water, no less – by Carla’s school. We had her over to watch Carla and Carla had a blast and keeps asking when she can come over again.

My husband and I haven’t been on a date in MONTHS, so I am ready for one. And I want to sign up for this Sur la Table class so I can cross it off my to-do list. So I texted the sitter… and she hasn’t responded. I am going to give it until this weekend to follow up (she’s in class during the week, obviously), but I am worried about how best to contact her. I could email her… but do kids these days email? Or I could call her… but do kids these days use the phone? (I doubt it. I don’t use the phone and I’m a billion.) Probably I’ll just text her one more time and then if she doesn’t respond I will begin the grieving process. Because I don’t want to badger her.

Did I ever tell you about the horrible babysitting experience I had in grad school? I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it here. As with most of my past (a phrase that makes my earlier years sound unnecessarily mysterious; they were not), the incident is kind of fuzzy. I have a truly dreadful memory. But the broad strokes and the pervasive dread have stuck with me.

I had a professor that I loved. He taught a class on my all-time favorite author, and we spent the semester reading books I loved and delving into the author’s craft and I loved every minute of it. Much of the reason I loved it was the professor, too. He was engaging and smart and he seemed to value my contributions – slim though they were; I once got an A- in a class I otherwise excelled at simply because I didn’t speak up enough – and I really liked him.

One day, he asked if I would babysit his two young kids. I can’t remember if he put the request out to the class or if he asked me specifically. But I said yes and gave him my cell number so he could send me details. I sat for the kids one time and it was… rough. I’m not much of a kid person as it is; I don’t really know why I said yes in the first place. I have a very blurry recollection that maybe the professor was in a bind and I said yes reluctantly just to help him out. I’m pretty sure I told him right then that it was a once-in-a-while deal, that he should not count on me as a regular sitter. But maybe that’s one of the tricks your mind plays on you, after the fact, filling in what youshould have done. Maybe I was eager to help out, at the time.

So I sat for the kids and then I was done. Once was enough. Again, I don’t have anything specific to hang that reasoning on. Maybe the kids were unruly or mean or fought a lot or cried a lot. Maybe I felt overwhelmed or realized, yeah, I don’t like kids. Maybe the parents were late coming home or I felt uncomfortable in their house. I have no idea.

But he asked me again and I said no, I couldn’t do it – blaming it on some other commitment, feeling horrible for leaving him in the lurch.

(A little part of me can empathize with him, now that I’m well-versed in trying to find a sitter for my own child. You find someone you like, and you want that person to be Your Person Forever. When you have no other options, you might be a little more willing to be annoying in pursuit of getting what you want.)

And then he called me again, to ask me to babysit. And I declined again. And then he asked me again. Did I go back and sit for the younger kid, one more time? I think maybe I did, but maybe I wanted so badly to say yes and stop the badgering that I invented that memory. In any case, he called again. And again. I stopped answering my phone when he called. I felt guilty about not wanting to help, and uncomfortable about lying about my other commitments, and awkward about having to see him in class.

And then, in class, he started telling us stuff that struck me as really inappropriate. Stuff that maybe you shouldn’t share with your students. But it sounded like he and his family were going through a really rough time – my memories here are more specific, but I don’t want to share the details because a) they aren’t mine and b) if I ammisremembering, that makes sharing them even worse; suffice it to say it was really, really disquieting stuff – and so I can understand that he might have been so consumed by what was going on that he lost his sense of judgment about what he should and shouldn’t share. Or hey, maybe it was perfectly reasonable for him to tell us what he was going through, and my particular high-boundary personality coupled with my strained relationship with him is what made it seem out of line.

He would talk about these things they were going through, and how desperate he and his wife were to figure them out, and how they had all this time they had to spend away from the one kid while they were struggling to help the other kid.

In any event, it made me feel awful. Sad for him and his family. But also like he was guilt tripping me about not babysitting for them. In front of the whole class. He and his wife neededsomeone to help them out. The younger kid neededsomeone to be there for them, while her family’s lives were in a tumult. And I couldn’t even be bothered to babysit???

I realize that a lot of this is my own personal interpretation. And you weren’t there, and you aren’t getting his side of the story. But I hope you believe me when I tell you I felt a tremendous amount of pressure. And I felt I couldn’t do anything about it, either. I couldn’t drop out of the class – it was too far along in the semester by that time. I didn’t feel that couldn’t go to anyone in the department, because it’s such a small department and he had such standing in it that I didn’t think anyone would believe me that it had become a bigger issue than a stupid babysitting request. I didn’t even tell my closest grad school friend about it, because I was afraid she’d say something and I’d get blackballed by the department.

Writing it out even now, it seems ridiculous. How could an entire semester be ruined for me because someone wanted me to babysit his kids and I didn’t want to? And of course, I’ve lost (or blocked) the details so I can’t lay it out for you to fully examine. Instead, you get these shards and fragments. How can I expect you to form a clear enough picture that you understand?

Well. This is all I’ve got.

And it did ruin the semester for me. Worse, I haven’t picked up a book by my once-favorite author since.

Like I said, I do have some empathy for him. Now. After the passage of many years has softened the anxiety and discomfort I felt at the time. And knowing what I do about the singular desperation a parent feels in the face of losing a perfectly good babysitter.