"We'll see."
"'We'll see' means no!"
How many times did that exchange play out when we were kids? At least once a week during the trip to Granite Falls to get groceries and [maybe] stop by the Ben Franklin, at least when Grandma was working. I'm sure it happened even more frequently when we visited the metropolis of Marshall and went to Woolworths, ShopKo, Alco, and (on rare occasions) the mall.
My brothers and I longed to have the toys that the kids in the TV commercials played with, thinking that we too could make the Hot Wheels cars fly off ramps and magically land on the ground and keep rolling through the checkered flag... or the My Little Pony that would gallop along, mane flowing in a gentle breeze, then returning to the stable to be groomed and pampered and tucked into her little pony bed. All the wonderfully fun-looking games like Hungry-Hungry Hippos, Rock-em Sock-em Robots and Simon, and don't get me started on all the cool action figures and special edition Barbies and Cabbage Patch Kids, not to mention the always-coveted video game systems.
I'm not trying to paint a bleak and sparse picture of my childhood. To the contrary, we did get toys for Christmases and birthdays. And I'm sure each time we bargained, begged and/or pleaded for a certain toy, mom was making a mental note of it as she said, "we'll see." But to us at the time, we felt horribly cheated and marginalized. We were absolutely certain that "all the other kids had [insert-over-priced-plastic-toy-or-sugary-candy-here]" so why couldn't we? It wasn't fair! Ah, the eternal childhood lament.
My mom was, and is, a frugal person who has always had a keen eye for a discount, bargain, deal, freebie or coupon. We would often tease her about it and try to get her to buy things that weren't on sale, occasionally slipping full-priced items into the cart, only to have her immediately notice it and
As a kid, I accepted that that's just how it was. And a part of me was eternally pouty. I thought that "we'll see" was just a cruel phrase -- that mom never intended to buy whatever "it" was for us, before or after we asked for it, probably out of some arcane philosophy that kids should play outside with sticks and dirt (or something).
But as all kids do, I grew up.
Now, more than ever, I realize what mom's true intentions were. Clipping coupons and watching the sales circulars weren't just fun hobbies while we were growing up, it was a necessity. There were some pretty lean years on the farm, particularly during times of drought, and with one income, every penny had to be stretched to the absolute limit.
I'm sure it was hard for mom to see her kids yearning for toys that she truly did want to buy for us. I'm not yet a parent, but I do have an understanding of wanting to spoil little kids, just to see their faces light up and hear them laugh with delight. It had to be especially hard for her when we kept asking over and over again if we could have this or do that, knowing that each request carried a significant price tag and that she would have to somehow convey that we couldn't.
All this is to say that I suspect mom chose the words, "we'll see" because it was less painful than "no." The word "no" is so final and completely squashes any hope, and telling your child "no" when you so much want the answer to be "yes" had to be crushing. "We'll see" was a way around that, leaving the possibility open, just in case something changed and she would in fact be able to give in to our whining.
This Mother's Day, I wanted to write this blog to let my mom know that I get it. I get that she was doing the best she could with the resources she had at the time. And that even though I never did get a Lite-Brite or a Moncchichi Girl Doll or Perfection or a Skip-It, I wouldn't have traded my childhood for that of any of the kids who had all those toys and then some.
Now I understand that "we'll see" meant LOVE.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
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My eyes are leaking all over the computer keyboard. Thank you, Mimi. xxoo
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