Oh, mama, I see you standing there in your sweats, hair pulled into a messy bun with that ugly bill in your hand. Your heart thumps, stomach roils. Maybe, even, your hands shake.
You went in for an oil change and came out with a new carburetor on the van. The x-ray for your kiddo’s broken arm is nearly the cost of your mortgage. Why did the water bill go up again? And goodness—insurance is due next month. How did six months go that fast?
You tell yourself it’s just money and everything will work out, but the familiar nagging thought prickles your mind: How are we gonna afford this? The truth is from diapers to braces to driver’s licenses . . . it’s not cheap raising a family. Even the “sale” prices in most places give you sticker shock. That’s why you’re a secondhand mom.
When the kid complains their shoes don’t fit, it’s okay because you know every good thrift store and consignment shop in a 20-mile radius. You should have a bumper sticker that reads “I brake and U-turn for yard sale signs.” (Of course, you do the drive-by first to make sure it’s not just some grandma overselling you on her cat-clawed upholstered chair or chipped table lamp.)
Your Facebook Marketplace and Offer Up feeds are tailored to your search preferences. And when your friend offers you a trash bag full of hand-me-downs, you are a resounding yes!
It’s hard to explain why there’s magic in things that get a second (or third or fourth) life. Maybe it’s because you’re keeping perfectly good things from landfills. Or you remember someone you love wearing them when they were ittier and bittier. Or maybe, the things are grateful in their own inanimate way, like the characters you’ve read about in the most endearing children’s stories. Perhaps you simply believe everything (except lice and germs) is better shared.
Regardless of your why, you feel proud of your secondhand achievements. You find yourself bragging to your thrifty friends about this deal or that one. You delight in knowing the Bucko bucks have been saved. And really, your kids aren’t dressed too shoddy. No one would suspect their clothes didn’t at least come from Target. (Well, except for those days when they adorn themselves in a decoupage of mismatched patterns paired with the hand-me-down clogs three sizes too big. But that’s childhood, isn’t it?)
With a little searching, you always find a great, barely-used pair of shoes. Maybe even, score some new-in-the-box Nike high tops from the neighbor’s moving sale for 15 bucks.
The beautiful thing about secondhand mom life . . . your kids learn how to find treasure troves in the most unexpected places. To think outside the department store box. To be sensible and economical in their spending. And to appreciate and give life to discarded, forgotten things.
In a way, secondhand mamas, you are the nursery fairy who fills their closets with Velveteen Rabbits hoping to be needed again. And for that, your children know your love is real.