The Coat

The weather is constantly in flux here. Sure, we get all the seasons in the correct order, but there is no certainty of when they will begin or end. Some years you sweat on Halloween and the snow waits until March to make an appearance. That’s why the instructions from the scout leader to “dress your child warm and in layers,” are open to interpretation. I immediately start overthinking.

Sweatpants, T-shirt, sweatshirt. Boom-done! If she gets too hot she can take off the sweatshirt and tie it around her waist. But, what if she needs her winter coat? No, that will just be a burden if it gets too hot and has to carry it the whole time. What about a hat? Isn’t like twenty percent of body heat lost through the top of your head?

I stick a hat on her head. She rejects the hat.

“Maybe we do need the winter coat.” I hand it to her and she starts stripping down to the T-shirt “No. No. Both! You need more options!” My caffeine headache festers and I start sweating. “Let’s just have it with us and decide in the car.”

“We’re going to be late! She’s fine, let’s just go,” her dad waits with his hand on the doorknob.

After we drop her off we will have several hours of child-free downtime. A leisurely breakfast. Time to write. The world is our oyster.

I leave the coat draped over the back of the couch.

It’s a scenic drive, a kaleidoscope of color changing leaves. Nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the campsite is about an hour from home. We are lucky to be able to give our daughter experiences like this, but I don’t have the energy to volunteer. I am happy to leave it to the wealthy overachieving Instagram moms. But we always feel a bit conspicuous pulling up in our noisy old Corolla with the missing hubcaps. In spite of that, everyone has been kind to us and the kid is thrilled to go “camping” with the scouts even if they can’t stay overnight due to Covid restrictions.

I have goose bumps forming under my own inadequate clothing choices. So out of desperation, I add another layer to the child. A bright orange and black Halloween hoodie I find in the back seat among the loose McDonald's fries and empty juice boxes. There’s a stain on one of the sleeves, so we roll them up 80’s style. The other girls are clustered around the leader in various styles of quality winter gear. Gloves! Those never even occurred to me! Who the hell manages to keep track of gloves for their seven year old? I’ve never been able to hang onto a pair of gloves for longer than 24 hours. “Keep your hands in your pockets,” I tell her.

“Come on, let’s get breakfast,” my husband lures me back to the car. As we drive away the doubts in my head get louder.

“It was cold out there. I feel bad we didn’t bring her winter coat.”

“Ugh. If we go back that’s half the day! What do you want to do?,” he says dryly. I press my head against the window. “I don’t know.” But I do know. I want to go back for the coat. We drive for ten minutes blaming each other, grumbling about our mutual lack of foresight, and cursing weather gods for the unexpected cold snap.

“Wait. What if we just buy her a new coat?”

“We are talking about thirty or forty bucks at least and she already has a winter coat!” I frown.

“Consider it an investment in having a better day. We can salvage breakfast. Plus we can get it out to her sooner.”

“You’re right.”

I run into the store and head straight for the children’s coats. She’s seven, so the perfect coat is one for an eight year old. I shuffle through the rack, zeroing in on the price, the thickness, and the size. Too big. Too small. Bingo! I use the self check-out and run back to the car with it.

As I sit down it dawns on me. “This is the ugliest friggin’ thing I have ever seen in my life! What have I done?”

“Well, she’ll be warm,” he says, pulling back onto the main road.

“What kind of pattern is this?”

“It’s like that digital camo. She’ll be safe from a drone strike.”

I laugh and then sigh. What a long stupid day it had already been and it’s only 10:00 am. I still have to get the coat out to her in the woods and since we don’t have the scout leader’s cell number, they will be hard to find.

“I’ll go,” I insist. I wander into the crowd of scouts looking for my daughter, hoping to spot that bright orange hoodie. There is a big line of girls and their chaperones gathered around a folding table in front of a big cabin. It occurs to me that I am not technically permitted to be here without the required background check and approval from the leaders (another reason why I volunteered to go in instead of my husband). I try to be as polite as possible as I approach each group. I only have the leader’s first name and nobody I encounter seems to know her.

I talk to some women building a fire. They tell me there was a group of Brownies up the hill. I start jogging in that direction, but of course, there are multiple hills. Half way up the first one I don’t see any activity, so I trudge back down and keep walking. I start calling my husband when I hear voices in the distance. I immediately hang up and start following the sound. Then I spy a sliver of orange through the trees, so I run up a second hill. Clearly not up to the task, my calves and lungs start burning in protest.

My daughter is rather unsurprised to see me. “Did you buy this?,” she asks as I rip off the tags.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry it’s weird, but you will be warm.”

“No, it’s okay,” she says.

I zip it up and, give her a quick hug and turn to leave. Then I see the leader distributing hoodies, gloves and other layers to some girls with thinner jackets. I donate the extra orange hoodie to the pile.

My phone rings. It’s my husband wanting to know what happened. “I answered the phone and all I heard was heavy breathing. I got nervous,” he says. “I thought you’d been snatched by a cryptid.”

At this point I was already jogging back down the hill. “Sorry....wheeze...hill…wheeze. She has the coat...wheeze...Coming back now.”

I get back to the car with a sigh of relief... “If it makes you feel better at least three other parents made the same mistake and they did not come back."

“Yeah, I guess it does,” he says.