Barbie Day + Traditions

On August 3, 2023, I went to see the Barbie movie with my Mom.  It was one of her last outings before she got (more) sick and weak.  I remember her calling me during the week and asking if I’d like to see the movie with her, to which I replied apprehensively, “Of course... But are you sure you’re up for it?”.  The significance of seeing the movie together isn’t lost on me.  My grandmother, her Mom, had started the tradition of buying me Barbie ornaments every year for Christmas since…1993 or 1994.  After my grandmother passed away, my Mom continued the tradition (yes, even into my 30’s).  So seeing the Barbie movie together was special, and not just for me.

I bought tickets for an afternoon showing, her request since mornings were so rough for her. We dressed up in pink (the unspoken rule across the world when seeing the Barbie movie), and I met her at the Movie Tavern in Collegeville. (My dad was driving her.)  She was moving slowly that day, and we were a little late, but with previews, it was fine.  We got the comfy seats closer to the front and reclined back.  I was working hard to hold back tears as I knew this would be a special memory I fondly remembered.   I tried to relax, but I was so nervous that it was too much for her or that she was uncomfortable. Eventually, and probably due to the help of the beer I ordered, I settled in and watched what would become one of my favorite movies ever.

For so many reasons, I found the movie to be incredibly significant — a movie about women's empowerment, women's strength, and women simply being good enough. Getting to watch this movie next to my role model was so important to me.

When the movie was over, and we had cried a few times, we took pictures in front of the sign, and I walked her back to their car. When we got to the car, she handed me a present, and I opened it.  A Barbie ornament.   My stomach dropped, thinking to myself, "It’s August; I can’t get this in August; it’s not Christmas."  I told her that, too, and she said, “Don’t worry - you’ll still get one for Christmas, too”.  (Side note - 2 Barbie ornaments in 1 year is unheard of in this tradition).  (Side side note: I did get my Christmas ornament. My husband bought it for me. In one of their final exchanges, he told her he would carry on the tradition.). What I didn’t realize at this moment was this was her, knowing that she wasn’t going to be around for Christmas but still wanting to give me an ornament and see my face light up over it.  My heart breaks every time I think about this because I didn’t put it together. I was so mad at myself when she died, and I played back our summer together, looking for hints that she knew.  There were plenty, and for whatever reason, my brain chose not to acknowledge them.  When I brought this up with my therapist, she helped me realize that there was nothing to be mad about — my brain was letting me live in the moment rather than catastrophizing the future.

Recently, I was looking back through my photos and came across the ones we took after seeing the movie.  I knew I wanted to do something special to honor the day, but due to work and other schedule conflicts, I couldn’t make it happen today — on what I'm now declaring: Barbie Day.  So on Thursday, I ordered an obscene amount of sushi, grabbed a bottle of Rosé, and rented the Barbie movie.  I invited my husband to join the tradition if he wanted to (I did take him to see the movie last year, too). He said if I was going to be upset at any point [during the movie], he wanted to be there with me.   To say I have a good husband is an understatement.  He transformed the living room into a cozy den, lit one of my favorite candles (it smells just like my Mom), and sat next to me.   I started crying during the opening scene.  

Truthfully, I cried a lot through the entire movie, more than I remember when I saw it the first time.  I cried even more at the end.

I don’t know how long I’ll maintain this tradition, but in a year full of weird firsts, it was really comforting to create these few hours in what feels like a celebration of my Mom, her strength and resiliency, and her beauty.

If you're reading this up there, I love you, Mom.

I miss you so much.