Hats
I have always loved hats.
I don’t really look very good in hats, but sometimes the glee with which I wear them helps me pull them off.
Evidence for dubious hat choices:
I wore a rather unfortunate “Life is Good” branded bucket hat through most of college. I wore it so much that it faded from navy to light gray, which I interpreted as a badge of honor. Commitment. That’s my game.
I still have the blue Nike fabric baseball cap that I started wearing while goalkeeping in soccer games when I was about 12. It kept the sun out of my eyes and I looked like a badass who was definitely not afraid to dive into a pile of kicking feet to grab a ball. I haven’t decided if it’s charming or highly uncool that there are photos of me wearing that hat in three - soon to be four - decades.
I once stole a bowler hat off of a father of the bride at a wedding. I would like to be the kind of person who can spontaneously add a bowler hat to an everyday outfit and look like a person stepping out of the Justin Timberlake Suit and Tie video. I highly suspect I am not. It still hangs on the corner of my mirror, and I take it down to dust it from time to time.
I actually own one of those Goofy hats from Disney World. You know, the ones with the big eyes above the brim? Where the brim itself is Goofy’s nose and the fabric ears hang down like floppy strips of bacon? Yes. I loved that hat. On an SD card circa 2004, there is video of me on a plane flying home from Disney World after a high school music trip, with that hat pulled down over my face. I had just finished Of Mice and Men, and needed to hide the tears that would not stop flowing. Cue the moment when the beloved choir director saunters through the cabin with his video camera. He flipped up my hat, thinking I was sleeping, and Goofy’s big mischievous eyes and odd whiskery nose revealed the ugly cry that Very Sensitive people reliably do at the end of that book. I think I tried to smile, grimaced instead, gave him a thumbs up, and dismissed him on his way. Now, Goofy always makes me think of poor Lennie and poor George.
Anyway.
I love a hat. Sun hats, party hats, costumes with hats, winter caps, old time-y hats, I am here for them. And if you attempt to wear a cool hat in my presence, I will see you, I will praise you, and I will be jealous of your courage and of your hat.
I wear more metaphorical hats than actual hats these days. I sort of wish that special hats came with the uniforms of ministry directors, lawyers, and moms, but alas, they do not. About half the time when I answer a question about “what I do,” the person who asked me immediately references hats, and I probably haven’t even told them about my aspirational gardening, which is one of my only regular activities that legitimately requires one.
I have been a Busy Person all my life. I like the mental challenge of juggling activities. I like to learn and explore. I like the praise that comes from being good at lots of things. I like the performance and the competitive nature of busyness too. I don’t judge people for being less busy than I am, but I judge myself when it feels like I can’t keep up with them. My first act when I wake up might be to fantasize about when I get to go back to bed, but I go on to conquer the schedule and defeat the day, one parking lot email, one mom-taxi client call, one multi-tasking meal prep, one distracted game of Candyland at a time.
When deciding between two choices, I have always tried to figure out how to do both. I learned a slew of instruments growing up, played on at least 2 (often 3) highly competitive soccer teams at once through most of high school, double majored in college (ahem, double degreed), and went to seminary and law school at the same time. I couldn’t figure out exactly how I wanted to save the world. Procrasti-learning is a real thing.
I love physical hats; but I might be oddly dependant the metaphorical ones.
I still have not figured out exactly how I want to save the world. But I’m not sure I want to be conquering and defeating my days anymore. I wasn’t very good at imagining the way that bringing two tiny lives into the world would change my priorities. It feels…wasteful to have a veritable stack of qualifications and to contemplate stepping back from using all of them at once. I worked hard to earn them and am so lucky to have had the opportunities. But I highly suspect that I cannot busy my way through being the kind of parent I want to be. No amount of multi-tasking makes an hour of quality time with a child take anything less than an hour. And so, perhaps something has to give.
The Jen who is the Wearer of the All Hats looks around and feels this - is it compulsion? - to find a way to hoard the hats. But maybe I should be looking for a new way. A forgiving way, maybe? A more humble way. I am trying now to make peace with the opportunity costs of actually having to make choices, which really seems like something I should know how to do by now. However, it is not, so I will learn. Maybe I’ll acquire a fedora to make the learning more stylish.
Incidentally, my daughter looks amazing in hats. She has an extensive collection and pairs hats with costumes and accessories with the imagination and confidence only a four year old can muster. I continue to aspire to her confidence.
